spiderbility | ( OPEN POST )

( continued. )

So what're you doing nowish?

I'm free as a bird
You want me?

I want you to come team up.
And maybe there will be burritos in there? After, during.

And the rest of it, we'll just. I don't know. Play it by ear.
I'm lousy with the being a person part.

All right, I'm on my way, Sweetums~

Don't call me that.

You prefer baby boy? I can do that instead

( peter is (more or less) easy to find, based on the sounds in the city (or the police radios, if one is so inclined to listen in on their channels) or even just vaguely aware of the best vantage points and his usual haunts. nobody needs a gps pinpoint dropped to their phone, especially not deadpool, who generally seems to know how to find anyone at any point for any reason. it'd be disturbing if it wasn't so beneficial to peter's interests: cutting corners to save lives.

( but he does wonder sometimes, what it means, how far it goes. does he know his entire identity? where he lives? who his people are? is that going to be a problem later? and yes, he hates thinking like that; hates that other people he cared about made it his problem to preemptively consider these avenues of suspicion. )

but he's here, in manhattan, on a rooftop they've rendezvoused on before, waiting, completely in the suit because that's their norm. he's nothing if not a stickler to what makes him less anxious, although the entirety of their conversation??? problematic. an issue. deeply concerning. scary in the way that knives, bullets, and getting thrown into buildings isn't. )

What's wrong with Spidey?

( he likes baby boy in a way that makes him slightly unsettled because wade shouldn't be able to turn him on in .001 seconds with two words. )

[ Wade didn't respond, was too busy humming his own theme music and riding his adorable red vespa through the streets of New York. He should be getting praise, really, for not texting and driving like an asshole.

He knows exactly where he's going, and it doesn't take long. His vespa gets parked in an alley near by and he heads for the elevator. Look, not everyone had Spider-man's ability to climb walls and even with the endurance for stairs it feels like a waste. In the meantime, Wade checks his phone and a smirk pulls at the corners of his lips beneath the mask. Oh, Peter. Wade's gonna eat you alive if you make it that easy.

Then it's just a quick trip up the ladder and onto the roof, where his heartmate awaits him. He strides forward, completely confident and without an ounce of anxiety in him. They're opposites that way, the two of them. ]

Because I can tell how much you like it when I call you baby boy.

[ There's a grin in his tone, and if Peter could see his eyes he'd see the pure delight in them. It was mostly a guess, but Wade had a feeling he nailed it. ]

I hate it. ( he lies like a liar with a lilt in his voice and everything. it's fine. who cares? not him. certainly not someone whose love language is physical touch and quality time, who has been deprived of both in the absence of both the love of his life and his best friend in one fell swoop — one to irreversible death and the other to prison, except for the multiverse, which peter tries very hard not to think about and obsess over.

( it's a lot easier with strange's spell to forget. )

for the record, he's not his heartmate. he's just a guy.

a spider-guy who's painfully out of the league of legitimately everyone because he plays it the absent way, and he's now faced with the consequences of offhandedly flirting. peter generally moves more — he jumps, he climbs, he evades. he's energetic, in the way that has to be burned up. but also because if deadpool gets close enough, he's afraid that same devouring energy that he has with anyone he's attracted to is going to devour him, force him to lean in and breathe the same air. captivate him enough to mirror every movement, until everything is wade's exhales, fabricated in opposite movements.

it's horrifying, to someone that has gotten everyone killed or turned evil, not because he's wade. not because he's a hot-blooded guy. peter's pansexual, as far as he's concerned with himself. it's the other stuff, the baggage. )

I'm going to need you to cool off. ( like he's not looking at those arms right now, sure. )

It's a good thing I like them bossy, baby boy. We can cool down in the showers after.

[ He just winked, unaffected by Peter's refusal to just let him have what he wanted. People were constantly telling him to stop doing something, to shut up, pushing him off, stabbing him in the brain. Didn't stop him from pursuing, and all of that intense energy was focused on the guy in front of him. It was probably a lot to deal with but that did not even occur to the merc.

Whether or not Peter bought into it, Wade was sure he was his heartmate. Those idiot witch girls proved it when they summoned him. Peter didn't feel the same, and Wade wouldn't deserve him even if he did--but none of that mattered because the heart wanted what it wanted. And his heart wanted the dork with the nice ass in the spandex spider costume. So he'd keep chasing after him, and appreciating the view.

Sirens blared in the distance and Wade pulled Bea and Arthur from their sheaths on his back. ]

Sounds like that's our cue. Let's kick some ass.

[ He didn't even wait for the response, just took a full running leap off the top of the building. That was his style. And he knew Peter wasn't going to blow off saving some innocent people, so he'd join in either way. ]

Maximum effort!

( kudos to the mask for saving what's left of his dignity as good as a duct tape fix-all. peter's quiet, mouth agape, staring (shocked stupid) and wordless gets neatly concealed from view. then his brain catches up and he turns his cheek, feels the clockwork survival instincts kick in: the eyeroll, the casual scoff, the practiced disbelieving mm because deadpool is nothing but a man that loves to hear himself talk and inevitably, without fail, picks the most attention-grabbing language in his arsenal.

sure, it can be real annoying, exhausting even, when peter thinks they're having a heavy conversation for once and then all of a sudden, it's a joke again or heavily insinuated filth. what it also is, is safe from a carefully detached distance.

is it, though? detached? how disinterested can a guy be if he knows what to expect and he puts himself close to that? it's not always wade finding him. see, the thing about operating in the responsibility corner means he can assume he's trying to do the right thing, it doesn't leave a lot of room for questioning his other motives. granted, spring boarding off of a car you've just been tossed into also doesn't allow for much introspection, either. the point is that even flabbergasted or red in the face from mild irritation (surely), he never turns the judgment inward and asks himself why. if he's so bothered, why is he smiling?

the tingle down his spine, the hair standing up on his arms tells him what's coming before those katanas come out.

he's up and diving before wade's started to descend, perpetually aware of the man's tendency to freefall. just because he can't die doesn't mean he should continuously test the bounds of regeneration, not that reminding him does anything. )

Do me a favor! Try not to die before we get there. You'll be doing all their work for them.

[ To Wade's credit, he did have a lot more durability than the average man. Stronger bones that were harder to break, muscle tissue that was harder to injure. He had a higher pain tolerance, too. Shit definitely still hurt, but with his fucked up brain he didn't remember half of the awful things he'd been through anyway. ]

Worried, baby? Shit, you got me twirling my hair with my fingers over here.

[ He ignored the criticism as he always did. Half the fun of having the curse of immortality was doing stupid shit that every day people never got to experience. Free falling off of buildings was a life sentence for most. Since not being able to die was a huge bummer in a lot of ways, he needed to get his kicks in where he could. And Wade was good at getting his kicks in.

They hit the ground running and the thing is, the two of them made a really great team. Peter was one of the few that managed to work well with Wade's unpredictability, and Wade made a genuine effort to shoot fewer people so he didn't piss off his little Spidey. Not only to avoid the lecture he'd be in for, but because he genuinely liked having Peter happy with him.

Motivation was everything.

It meant less work with his desert eagles, less slicing and dicing, but he still managed to cause a concussion here and there. He was still a hell of a martial artist and bad guys deserved a kick in the head or two, all right? Peter was never going to be able to convince him that wasn't true.

And maybe he showed off a little more than he did when he wasn't performing for someone. Threw in a few extra quips. So what? ]

( although he would be hard-pressed to confess anything of the nature, working with wade was great, both because they had a way of communicating soundlessly, improvising off of the other's movement and because he came out less black and blue, stumbling home by willpower and the skin of his teeth alone.

pulling his punches cost him about as much as the times when he didn't.

not having to worry means that he can focus on the little things — slowing down debris with quick webbing and a yank, sweeping people out of the path, disarming officers that might shoot the wrong menace to society here, all of which he's multi-tasking within the flips and kicks, and a few well-timed tackles. it's probably more dangerous, getting out of his norm. peter is not an extremely offensive fighter by any means, leaning on the side of defensive, preventative, too flighty to be contained for long. there's an assurance in the back of his head that he rarely maintains, like he's learned there's no hot water with deadpool watching his back. he doesn't rely on it, tries not to anyway because doing that implies some level of being okay with the fallout of whichever poor soul has him subdued, but it means he does throw caution to the wind some.

they're both guilty of a level of performance in their craft.

so when he does a silly little handspring backflip onto the hood of an abandoned cab to land in a crouch, back of his hand swiping at a bloody nose through his mask, it's totally not because wade is watching. )

I had that, ( he explains, somewhat out of breath, a bit dizzy, even as wade is left standing from a particularly heavy head kick that peter is pretty sure was ... crunchy. )

Edited (i can type ) 2024-08-14 00:58 (UTC)

[ The adrenaline rush of a good fight was unlike anything else Wade had ever experienced. There was a reason that he became a mercenary even after getting booted from the military, and it wasn't just his flawless skill when it came to kicking ass. Helped that he liked getting to do the right thing. It was just that what he believed to be the right thing was a little different than the average guy. An opportunity to put lead between the eyes of an actual monster? He'd do it in a heartbeat. Some evil couldn't be reformed.

But this wasn't that. This was just the two of them rounding up some dumb assholes that tried to rob a bank. So Wade put some hurt on them but left them alive and mostly not bleeding. Not heavily bleeding, anyway.

His bones were breakable, though he was fairly certain a kick alone wouldn't crush his skull. Still rattled his cancer riddled brain around like a pebble in a plastic egg. Not the best feeling, but it wasn't like had to worry about consecutive concussions giving him CTE.

His eyes turned to watch Peter's acrobatics and there's a very approving nod that rattled his brain a little further. Even gave him a double thumbs up. ]

Very nice. You're doing amazing, Sweetie.

[ Did he mean Peter's moves or the way his ass moved in that spandex? Because Wade was certainly helping himself to a look. There was nothing wrong with admiring beauty in all of its forms and a suit like that didn't leave a lot to the imagination. Yes, he was a pervert. Hardly a revelation.

Sure, Peter had it. Wade wasn't smart but he wasn't dumb enough to miss how less injured the younger man ended up when they teamed up. Wasn't gonna call him out on it though. ]

Yes, you're a very brave boy and we're all very proud of you. I think you're bleeding through your spandex, by the way.

Hm? What? No. My suit's red. You can't—it's fine.

( it is probably fine with how quickly he metabolizes calories to healing (not as fast as deadpool, but quick enough) that he'll shake it off. less fine is the wince from watching wade absorb an impact that should've knocked him silly instead and he does take a beat to scrutinize him. he seems okay, what with the banter, but peter's been witness to some deathbed-style ogling, so really who's to say? maybe in his guilt he lets him look for longer because he feels bad enough not to point it out without grimacing at his own dick move.

(to be clear, a reference to a character flaw, not how tight his suit clings to him, wade.)

any are you okays die in his throat, constricted by the officers that turn their attention on them as they're dusting off and getting up. a clear indication that it's due time to scramble. go figure, these guys can never just be grateful for the helpful hand until it's some monstrous villain beyond their means. he leaps off of said cab to join wade in fleeing, spurred towards a nondescript alleyway, and maybe yeah, he does a thing.

a little unmentionable thwip action to spring wade from ground level to onto a fire escape with him, out of reach. maybe he underestimates the impact, maybe he doesn't —but he's glad they're both safe. )

[ Jesus christ, Peter. He saw you wipe your nose through the mask.

Wade was an idiot, but he wasn't entirely stupid. He knew the guy didn't have the flu or anything. Though he did have a sneaking suspicion that such a thing wouldn't keep him indoors if he felt the world needed saving, and Wade could not get sick the way any normal person could, he probably wouldn't have been inviting Wade along and putting up with his... everything. It was a lot. He was a lot. And he knew it and didn't have any shame about it at all. Mostly.

There would be fucking riots if Spider-man was arrested, but no one would blame the NYPD for putting Deadpool behind bars. Then again, no one was dying to know who he was behind the mask. They all preferred he kept it on, thank you very much. So he appreciated the help in bouncing out of that little situation. Landed on the fire escape and made his way to the roof of the building where he would feel a little more safe. Out of reach.

That seemingly endless level of superhuman stamina meant he didn't really need recovery time. He could, as Cap liked to say, do this all day. But he still let himself flop onto his back on the roof and stare up at the starless sky. His brain was fine, he was fine, and maybe he just enjoyed being a little dramatic. ]

Y'know that whole thing goes a lot faster if you just blast them in the knee caps and leave them there for the cops to collect.

( it's relief, peter realizes as he's climbing over the ledge of the building. he's conducting a baseline examination with his senses and trying to be sure he's alright (when your starting point is: i should have died years ago and anything after is a bonus/curse, it makes the read challenging). wade isn't anyone. he's more resilient than most of his coworkers and how he plops himself down like a mirror image of exhaustion has peter swallowing apprehensively. it's the snarky commentary, the not-so-helpful sidenote that has peter snorting tiredly and dropping to sit at his side. )

Yeah, I bet it's a real crowd pleaser. A little pop-pop-pop and you've slowed them down with bum knees permanently. Presto, no more armed robberies on the books for Jimmy.

( all the right words, none of the actual lip service. peter's edge is dulled, more amused than disapproving, which says a lot for how often this line of poking fun at bodily harm comes up. )

How do you sleep at night?

You say that like it's a bad thing. Besides, you're the one with the fan club, Deadpool doesn't have a crowd to please.

[ Wade gave a smile, turning his head to look over at Peter. It wasn't lost on him that Peter wasn't using his usual bossy, disproving tone that came whenever Wade used or even mentioned a gun. It was nice, being able to joke about it a bit without getting lectured.

Maybe someday Peter would trust him enough to believe he only did what he felt was necessary, or maybe he was just too tired to fight with Wade this time. Either way, he'd take it.

His hand moved, coming to rest on the younger man's shin. His thumb gently rubbed against the spandex there, unsure if he could get away with the touch or not.

See? He wasn't all violence. ]

I can tell you one thing, there is some hot competition for Spider-man boxers. Practically have to beat people away with a stick when I buy them

As if I have any control over when they are and aren't casting stones at me. ( literally, figuratively in the bugle's case, it's all the same. ) Fans, am I right? As unpredictable as the city itself.

( so it's a good thing he doesn't do this for the t-shirts or the gratitude because while one is plentiful, the other is severely lacking, and neither of them cash out in his pocket. when he considers where he really started and how he began with vengeance in his heart, he can see how and why someone like deadpool would want to nip a repeat offender in the bud — take a life, protect the loss of another, maybe multiple. he prefers to leave those decisions to the people that do get paid for it, his only task now is keeping the streets clean(er). bearing that in mind, he knows where he comes from and he knows where he's trying to go, and in that same vein he can understand where those preemptive, angry thoughts grow.

his head empties like a watering can when he feels wade's hand on his shin, trickling out onto the rooftop around them. if not for the camaraderie and the residual flirting, he very well might shrug wade off. get defensive, work himself up, deflect, deflect, deflect. )

You're touching my leg, ( he word vomits, though softer than any projectile. it's not a stammer, more of a murmur. it's not openly accusatory, but that over boasting confidence is swapped for inquisitive uncertainty. like wade needs a reminder that his hand is doing a thing he actively chose to do. he's in bodily contact with people all the time, but not like this, not gently. not for a good long while. this isn't thick innuendo or pawing at him, it's unexpected somehow even if wade's been saying it very seriously for some time. ) Did you mean to? Do that?

——I'm sorry, my mask is on your underwear?

( that sprinkles some braincells back into the mix, jostles some sass loose to crack the reverie. )

I can see why you're an Avenger. [ Wade lifted an eyebrow when he heard Peter point out the obvious. He didn't sound offended, exactly, but didn't sound real sure about it. The question went unacknowledged because.. of course he meant to do that? There wasn't a person alive that could possess his mind enough to move his body. One of those fun little quirks about him.

With a soft pat to Spidey's leg, Wade moved his hand back. He let it rest against his abdomen and turned his gaze to look up at the sky again.

Honestly, he knew better than to do what he was doing, but something about Peter made it difficult to stop himself in the moment. There was still a softness underneath the layers of everything else that made up Wade Wilson. Much harder to find, but in there somewhere. It receded quickly, though, because he wasn't enough of a dumbass to actually be vulnerable when things seemed to be headed south.

The mention of his boxers made him grin to himself and he went with the new topic instead. Back to a comfortable place. ]

I wear a jockstrap with hearts on it in the suit, but at home? Fuck yeah it is, I've got at least five different kinds and they're all comfy as hell. Maybe if you're lucky I'll show you sometime.

Oh, is it the haircut? ( listen, it's lackluster. he knows good banter but that ain't it on his end. put him in a lab setting or give him a puzzling equation to solve, smart guy. people? dumb of ass, big of heart. the microexpressions are lost in translation, particularly when he is an overreactive persona in the suit. he's not specifically unsure about deadpool, it's anyone (that anyone would want to be close to him, but more broadly, with someone in a mask). wade gives him a pat that's probably not supposed to carry as condescending, but it is, as an unintended side effect of being significantly bad at communicating, comparitively.

the gears are turning, they're rusted but they work. )

You know, you talk an awful lot about your underwear for a guy that can neither confirm or deny whether he wanted to touch me.

( passive aggressive, him? really? there's the beginnings of a smile coloring his voice but the challenge is there, too. )

I'm just saying. Objectively.

[ Being challenged was unexpected. The merc pushed himself to sit up, twisting his body so that he was facing Peter. With a mask covering his face, it was hard to read Wade's face and tell exactly what was going through his mind. It must have been due to the genuine affection he felt for the guy that his fucked up cancer-riddled brain decided not to get set off by something stupid and go to violence, rather than play. He was glad for that. Would have ruined things pretty quick. ]

Yeah?

[ He can't help the smirk that twists onto his lips, tilting his head back and looking Peter over. Did he even understand the self restraint Wade had to use not to just shove him down and kiss him so hard he stole the breath out of his lungs? Tempting him, even as a joke, wouldn't be very wise.

Oh well. Challenge accepted. ]

Sounds like you liked me touching you and aren't very happy that I stopped, since you're not willing to let it go. You want me to touch you again, baby boy? You just gotta say the word.

( there's a calculated risk in raising the wager, peter knows that, though his quickening pulse asserts that he doesn't know how much he's biting off. peter doesn't get flightly when wade sits up, suddenly face-to-face and alert. it's wild, the flip of a switch. exhilarating, too. he definitely hasn't done anything worthy of wielding that level of power over someone else.

but as uncomfortable as the attention is (not for the reason he would think), he's weirdly electrified by it. )

I can let it go. The operative word being can. ( if that's what wade wanted, he would. ) I'm capable.

( it'll live in his head rent free, next to pet names and could've, would've, should've. letting go, suppressing, same thing. he stretches one leg out, loosening his locked posture, while the other stays bent towards his chest. )

But subjectively, yeah, I wanna know. Are you down for that?

[ At first, all Wade can do is laugh. Not cruelly, of course, but out of disbelief. Was Peter really asking if he was down to touch him? How had Wade somehow been so bad at communicating that it was exactly what he wanted? He clung to the guy, said they were practically lovers, left hearts made out of bullet holes with his name in it out of all over the city. Wade was obsessed with him. ]

You are the dumbest fucking smart guy I know.

[ Maybe not totally fair. Wade did flirt with a lot of people. But Peter was special. Would always be special.

Wade reached out, pressing his leather gloved fingers to the edges of where Peter's mask lay. He wasn't going to do anything without permission, but he allowed the tips of his fingers to sneak under the spandex fabric and press against the bare skin of his neck. Then he waited.

Peter had never let him see his face before. Always refused, wanting to keep the people he cared about safe. Wade wasn't sure he'd even get to now, but he felt more confident than he ever had about it before. ]

I want to touch you. [ He said it bluntly, staring the younger man dead in the eye. Almost a challenge, but not quite. ]

( look, after the inital shock of downright abrasive flirting wore off, peter presumed that it wasn't about him, that deadpool was like this with everyone. that he used flirting with people (and danger) as a means of keeping people at an arm's length because it came on so strong that it couldn't not be exaggerated versions of his real feelings. wade flirts like peter breathes, it is non-stop on his good days. he's still not anticipating being called dumb, which while not technically incorrect (he thought it just a moment ago), it confounds him. )

Okay, man. You're not interested. Just say that. We don't need to get nasty.

( rather than answering him in the instant, wade moves, reaching for his face and peter lets him. that's okay, they don't need words, this is good enough. the textured pads of his fingers against peter's neck are nothing, chaste, but it's the only thing he can focus on with tunnel vision. his own fingers come up out of reflex, catching the edge at the other side of his mask. holding on as he swallows hard.

i want to touch you.

in another universe, another timeline, maybe there are a plethora of spider-mans that would plummet to their death before unmasking in front of deadpool. this peter parker has already showed his face to two members of the stacy family, two other versions of himself, one of their friend groups. an archnemesis or two. he's a correct for consequences after the fact kind of rebel, beg for forgiveness and all that. and if wade wanted him dead, he's had so many chances. )

It's a mess under here. ( a valid excuse, really, with the blood streaked under his nose, the light bruising. peter takes a breath and tugs, pulling the mask over his head as he moves, shifting to a crouch next to wade because he's too chickensit to straddle his lap yet. )

Ta da! ( very softly and with low energy, like he's not sure what wade is going to do or think about this unveiling. he half-heartedly grins, definitely feeling the nerves rise. fake it til you make it, etc. )

@notryanreynolds

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dreamwidth ate this notif

all good!

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naked in manhattan plays in the background somewhere

oh no it's the perfect song

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