Peter Parker was a lot of things.

He was resourceful.

He was kind.

He was resilient.

He was determined.

He was selfless.

And he was not above asking for help when he needed it. In fact, he prided himself in always knowing when something was too big for him, too dangerous, and was always willing to go to the bigger guys and pass the responsibility onto them before he could get seriously hurt.

Okay, so that's not quite the whole truth. Let's start over.

Peter Parker was a lot of things.

The blood was sticking to the inside of his mask, but there was nothing he could do about that right now.

He was resourceful.

He pushed against the metal gate and forced a hole big enough to slip through, shoving himself through as the gate and chains jangled in protest.

He was kind.

He turned back and bent the bars back as much as he could, leaving the gate in a pretty similar condition to when he found it.

He was resilient.

Every breath came as a sharp, stinging shudder. He was limping along, favouring his left leg and left side. Tasting metal, but he didn't know if it was from the blood on his face or something inside him.

He was determined.

His vision was blurring, each step taking more and more effort, but he knew he had to keep going, had to get away, had to... had to keep awake.

He was selfless.

The distant cry of a stranger has him snapping his head up, and he locked eyes with a man across the street, who had a knife held to his throat by a taller man. Fighting to keep upright, Peter didn't have the energy to yell, or give a witty remark. All he managed to do was shoot a web into the attackers chest, pinning him against the wall and giving the victim a chance to high-tail it out of there.

Once the victim was safely out of sight, Peter let out a shuddering breath and kept moving, ignoring the bad guy pinned against the building. The cops would find him. Eventually. Peter didn't have the energy to deal with it, he doubted he'd even be able to get a word out if he even called the cops anyway.

He rounded a corner into a dark alleyway, his vision swimming and legs like jelly. It was secluded here, tucked away from the view of on lookers. Or so he thought.

He smacked right into a person, caught a glimpse of red patchwork and a pair of horns, before his legs gave out and he crashed down to the harsh concrete below. Blinking up at the stunned masked figure, Peter managed to force a few words out, before crumpling to the ground completely.

"Oh, Daredevil. Hey."

"Jesus—fuck—shit!" Matt exclaimed, totally caught the fuck off guard by the person in front of him. Who was now unconscious. And he wasn't sounding good. Matt cautiously crouched down, listening carefully to the heartbeat of the person in front of him, and tenderly reached a hand out. He knew who this was, but they'd never personally met before.

"Spider-Man." Matt shook the young man's shoulder, trying to wake him. "Spider-Man, get up."

When he'd followed the sounds of a stumbling, injured person he didn't know it was spider-man. He thought it was one of the bad guys that had escaped the explosion a few blocks away.
Oh, FUCK. The explosion.

"Spider-man!" Matt shook the young hero again, more urgently now. He knew it would have been bad if Spidey had gotten mixed up in that explosion. Matt didn't even know why Spider-Man was this deep into Hell's Kitchen, but it's not like he was going to get any answers right now. The guy was out like a light.

Matt sighed. There was no way he was gonna leave him here, these streets in particular are particularly sketchy. What the fuck am I supposed to do with him? Hospital? Something tells me that's a terrible idea.

He bent down and grabbed one of Spider-man's arms, hauling it over his shoulders and feeling every bit of spider-man's deadweight as he lifted the guy—boy—up. Which to be fair, was not a lot of weight. Matt turned his head, searching with his ears for any threats. None close by.

Now he had to figure out how to get Spider-man out of here. Dragging him out towards the road, he paused and stilled his breathing to listen to the sounds of the city. After a few minutes, he picked up on it. A car pulling onto the road a few blocks away. Matt walked towards the sound, hoping to flag down the car—unless it's someone unfavourable— for some help. He was sure it must have been a strange sight, daredevil hauling Spider-man's unconscious—bleeding— body. And he could tell there was more than just superficial wounds, could smell it, hear it, fucking taste it. He could still smell the charred ruminants of the explosion. Spider-man was definitely caught up in that.

Thirty seconds later, the car was in view. Well, earshot. Well, earshot for the average guy.
Point is, Matt waved his free arm wildly, shouting, hoping the car would stop. "Hey, Hey! He needs help!"

The car zoomed past them, and Matt scowled, but then he heard it skid to a stop. A beat, two beats, and then the car backed up. The sound of a window rolling down.
"What the shit?!"
Matt lowered his head, disappointed. "Deadpool."

"Dude, did you beat up Spider-man?!"
Matt scowled. "No! Why the fuck would I—"
"This is not a good look for you, I gotta tell you. You're fighting tooth and nail as it is, seriously."
"Deadpool." Matt sighed.
"Out of everyone you could have gone after, you pick the golden boy?!"
"I didn't--"
"The favourite?! The most traumatised fifteen to twenty-one year old in the city?!" Deadpool scoffs. "If you wanted to make enemies with the entire Marvel fanbase, you could have just said so. And just when you're about to become canon in the MCU. I can't believe this!"
"Then don't! And fucking help me, for fucks sake."
"Chill, red, I'm only messing with you!" Deadpool laughed. "I know you've got loose morals, but they're not that loose."
Matt was running out of patience. "Are you going to help or not?!"
"You're cute when you're mad," Deadpool grinned, because Matt could fucking hear it, leaning on the door. The door clicked, and Deadpool pushed it open. "Hand me the cargo." Deadpool said.

"He's not cargo, you ass." Matt snapped, taking Spider-Man's arm off his shoulder and carefully moving him into the car's back seat, next to Deadpool. Matt climbed in afterwards and pulled the door closed, extra careful to make sure none of Spider-man's surprisingly gangly limbs were in the way. The tires screeched as the car took off, and Matt fell back into the seat. "Jesus—"
"Sorry mr daredevil, sir, but wade insists on travelling only as fast as the car can go, and no slower." The driver spoke up for the first time.
"That's my boy, Dopinder." Deadpool leant forward and stroked the drivers cheek from behind.
"Whatever, the speed might help, actually." Matt shook his head, checking in on Spider-Man, who was still out, and still not in a great condition.
"So what happened to him?" Deadpool asked. "Did he finally realise who Dr Doom is?"
"Explosion, i think... I wasn't actually there, but I heard it."
Deadpool winced. "That's a no-no," Deadpool said. "Dope, RIGHT." Deadpool screamed the last bit, and Dopinder, or Dope, whipped the car violently. Matt cursed.
"Don't worry, I know where to go." Deadpool said brightly.
"Not the hospital." Matt retorted. "Absolute last resort."
"Dope, U-TURN!" Deadpool screamed. "I just like saying dope. Kevin is too strict, good thing he doesn't get control in a fucking Wattpad fanfiction."
"I know a place," Matt said. "It's our best shot."
"Roger that boss man." Deadpool confirmed. After a second, Matt heard him look over. "Do you hear everything in this city? Everything?"
Matt took a slow breath in. He's doing this for Spider-Man, he's doing this for Spider-Man...
God has given all his hardest battles to his strongest soldier. And this soldier is stuck in a car with Deadpool, an unconscious and maybe dying child superhero, and a taxi driver that refuses to take corners like a normal person. This is Matt's life now.