I...don't even know about this one-shot. Seriously, it's just crack. That's it. Nothing makes sense, but it was SO much fun to write. XD

But I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Wade gave a quick glance over his shoulder, heard the pitched sirens in the distance, and watched the rising smoke with an almost pained grimace. That building was run-down anyway and didn't - hopefully - have innocent people inside.

He whistled a low appreciative sound regardless, "That was close. Alright, Spidey, best we made a speedy escape. Calling Spider-Uber, Wade needs a li-" he turned and halted, swiveling left and right.

"Spidey?"

The wall he had sat his partner against was empty, aside from the trash bags Spider-Man had been using as a seat. Wade looked over the alleyway a few seconds longer, checking to make sure he wasn't hiding in a corner and jogged quickly toward the mouth of the alley to peer out into the street.

"Spidey?" He called again.

Sure enough, a pigeon-toed red and blue figure was bungling down the street, swaying from side to side like a man who hadn't been able to handle his alcohol. Spider-Man tittered to the side as if tugged by an imaginary string, paused, and promptly ran straight into a street-lamp. Wade turned his jog into a hasty run and made it to his side as Spider-Man shot to his feet, arms out to steady himself, swayed again, and pointed an angry finger at the post.

"Watch it, pal," he growled, jabbing his finger into the metal, easily denting as if it were made of putty. "M'walking here!"

"And he's very sorry," Wade said, steering Spider-Man by his shoulders, away from the lampost and somewhere, hopefully, more secluded. "Hey," he said, turning Spidey around when he stumbled over his feet, "Look at me Webs. I know that drug they nicked you with made you high as shit right now, but you've gotta-"

"And what are you looking at?" Spider-Man demanded, his attention directed to the side of Deadpool, where a woman walking down the street was staring at them as if they were a couple of punks that might need a visit from the good ol' boys in blue. Spider-Man leaned forward, as if to walk up to her, but instead of moving he kept falling forward and would've face-planted the sidewalk if Wade hadn't caught him in time. He planted Spider-Man back on his feet, one arm still poised against the hero's middle to keep him stabilized, as he shot the woman a wave.

"Nothing weird here," he assured her, pulling Spider-Man's weight into his arms when the man didn't try to stand on his own. "Just normal dudes doing normal dude things. Keep on walking, yeah - just like that. Alrighty, nightie night. Don't call the cops. That'd be bad."

As the woman quickened down the street, stealing anxious glances over her shoulder, Wade gathered up the piling mess of superhero and side-stepped into the nearest alleyway. "Hey," he said softly, snapping his fingers in Spider-Man's face to catch his attention as soon as he had him propped against the wall, "Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up, Webs?" Wade held up 5 fingers.

Spider-Man stilled and stared at his fingers, the fabric between his eyes creasing in thought. A long minute passed and the lenses of his mask squinted into slits and he leaned forward and kept going till his face landed in Deadpool's palm, humming delightfully.

"For fuck's sake, I gave you an easy one," Wade muttered and propped him up again. "Hey," he said this softer, "I need you to listen, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"'Yeeeep," Spider-Man chirped, falling forward so his arms were around Deadpool's neck. "M' listening." He leaned in close to Wade's face, voice dropping low, and whispered, "What is it?"

"Look," Wade said, pushing the webbed-face away when Spider-Man masks got within centimeters of his own. "Normally, I'd enjoy this. But you're high as fuck right now so it kinda makes it unfair. Maybe when your heads not roaming Saturn we can do this for realsies, but right now I need you to listen to my words."

Spider-Man put a finger to Wade's lips. "Sshhhhh," he whispered loudly, "Your words are..." he paused in thought, before settling on, "Loud. Your words are being all loud and - and loud."

"Okay," Wade whispered back, doing his best to ignore the fingers still on his lips, "They're quiet now. Now tell me, do you remember those bad guys, Spidey?"

Spider-Man nodded eagerly, trying to pull Wade closer as if to tell him a secret. Which was a feat in itself because there was barely an inch between them to spare. "They poked me," he said, "Riiiiiiiiiiight," he lifted a shaking finger that swayed in the air like a drunk fly, before jabbing himself in the neck, "here." He poked it again for emphasis. "Right here."

"Yeah. Those bad guys are still following us. We need to -"

"LET'S GO BEAT THEIR ASSES!" Spider-Man exclaimed instead, shoving himself off the wall and using the dumpster as a railing to walk himself toward the alley mouth.

Wade grabbed his wrist carefully, bringing Spider-Man's attention back to him, "No," he said, grabbing Spider-Man's other fist when it made grabby hands for the dumpster. "We need to regroup. I'm sorry Webs, but you're in no condition to be fighting anyone, and that's coming from me."

"I can fight," Spider-Man mumbled, almost offended. "Watch," he made a jerky, lazy swing to the open-air, that landed flat and almost threw him off his balance. "See," he said once he got his footing again, preening up at Wade.

"Okaaay, super impressive, but how about this," he thought desperately, "uh, let's go get food first? Huh? Are you hungry?"

All aggression melted off Spider-Mans frame like droplets of water and his lenses widened, almost childishly. "Yes," he whisper-gasped. "I am."

"Cool, I know this wonderful place. You'll love it. Let's go right now."

"Right now?"

"Right now!"

"Okay!"

He let Wade lead him back out onto the street without complaint.

It was late in the night, and given that they were in a shadier part of the city, not many people were roaming the streets, and those that were out, instantly turn-tailed and went in the opposite direction when they saw the brightly colored duo approaching.

Wade kept vigilante, despite how tame the night had become since just 10 minutes ago. They've been tailing those drug cartels for weeks now. The cartel was sly, clever, and made sure to tie up all loose ends, which made them a pain in the neck to track down. Now that he and Spidey had gotten an eye-full of their operation, they were targets, which wouldn't have been a problem in most cases. But those cases usually involved a fully functioning Spider-Man that didn't giggle every time he saw their shadows on the ground and whispering to Wade that "the underground people were following them."

As they slunk from street to street, Spider-Man's antics got less childish and more twitchy. His fingers periodically flexed, squeezing Deadpool's hand, and his head fluttered from side to side. His breathing was getting heavier and he pulled and toyed with the spandex clinging to his chest with his free hand.

When Wade inquired of him what was wrong, he whimpered, "Hot," and fanned his face, "It's getting hot. Is it hot to you? I think it's hot, Wade. I think I just," he shook his head as if dizzy and stopped to hunch over his knees, groaning in a way that suggested he might puke.

"You okay?" Wade asked a concerned hand on Spider-Man's back, rubbing it soothingly.

Spider-Man shook his head. Then shook it again, and again, and again, mumbling, "It's so hot. Ve - very hot. Too hot. M'sweating. I think- " he took a deep breath, curled his fingers under the hem of his shirt, seemed to think better of it, and hunched over again. He lasted a minute like that before he made a noise of frustration and tore the spandex shirt right off and threw it on the ground.

"Whoa-" Wade coughed into his fist, "Okay, ignoring how insanely hot that was," he helped Spider-Man back to his feet, who seemed to already be doing much better now that the cool night air was soaking into his skin, "Let's keep going. I got a safe house not far from here."

"That's better," Spidey sighed, tilting his head back, almost drinking in the thick air. He was sweating profusely, and through his gloves where Wade was stilling holding his hand, his fingers inched upward and he could feel Spider-Man's pulse beating frantically. That probably wasn't a good sign.

He swallowed down the concern building in his throat and pulled on a wide smile, "Yep, much better. Okay, let's keep going."

Spider-Man nodded once again before his body went tense and a sharp intake of breath severed the space between them. Wade moved on instinct, having seen this chain of reaction enough times to know what that meant. He pulled the firearm strapped to his thigh out quicker than a wink and shot the lackey leering at them from the shadows. He fell out into the light, clutching his leg with a pained scream. The weapon that clattered next to him was too advanced to belong to any street thug, which meant the drug cartel was closing in.

"Fuck," he swore and tucked Spider-Man close to his side, "They're onto us. Spidey-sense still working?"

Spider-Man started to nod, but it turned into a disgruntled shrug halfway through and he clutched onto the strap running across Deadpool's chest, eye-lenses clenching as if nauseous.

"Alright, it's working but you can't do shit about anything. Good to know. Ah," he looked around desperately. His safe house was still a few blocks away and the cartel was closing in fast by the looks of it. Spidey, as amazing as he was, was completely out of it, and Wade couldn't defend him and keep those guys off his back. Not without some serious mass murder, which he was trying to stop. Besides, the chances of killing them all off and Spidey leaving without a scratch was laughable.

But it was obvious they weren't going to make it to the safe-house in time. Besides, he'd only be leading them to it, which wouldn't put them in a much better situation.

However...there was one place nearby, but he wasn't sure if it was any better than the drug cartel.

Then again, he didn't have much of a choice.

"Alright, Webs, new destination. You staying with me?"

"Uh-huh," Spider-MAn murmured, but he was shivering now. Sweat still clung to him, but tremors racked his frame. Definitely not good.

Wade put an arm under Spider-Man's shoulders and hefted a majority of his weight. They passed a hobo hunkering in an alleyway and Wade forced the large, ratty over-coat he wore away from his angry form and draped it over Spider-Mans' naked, shivering shoulders.

"What the hell, you mother-fuckin-" the hobo started but Wade shoved a few hundred-dollar bills in his mouth and hastened on. That was his take-out stash money, dammit. Having a conscience fucking sucked.

"Almost there, just hang in there," Wade whispered into his ear. They slipped into a new alley. Wade glanced over his shoulder, searching the shadows, before approaching the side-door of an old, ratty-looking building. His eyes roamed over the dirtied alley one more time, before turning the knob and hastening into the warm room inside.

As soon as he stepped inside, the rumbling conversation inside immediately stopped. He closed the door behind him, adjusted Spider-Man's weight, turned, and waved awkwardly. "Hey, guys."

The cold, hard eyes of countless villains glared back at him.

The Bar With No Name. A bar only members of the criminal underground would know and a dominate resting place for villains looking for new jobs, hatching a plot, or licking their wounds after having been foiled (again). Bringing Spider-Man here was bringing a dog into a den of ravenous, angry wolves.

Buuuuut, if the villains made a scene, even here, it'd blow their cover and the bar would have to relocate again. Which no one probably, hopefully, wanted. Besides, the rules of the bar were that there would be no fighting once inside, no matter who entered. And if that didn't keep them off his back, despite turning over a new leaf, they all knew Wade's reputations and that he'd kill them in a heartbeat if he wanted to - rules be damned.

From a table sprawled with poker cards and chips, Black Ant lurched to his feet, "What the hell is he doing here?" He demanded, pointing a finger at Spider-Man. "You know the damn rules, Deadpool! No heroes allowed!"

"Stop being a fucking 2 years old," Wade shot back, snootily sticking his tongue out.

"This is our space!" White Rabbit snapped, standing so quickly her drink toppled across the table.

From the spot opposite to Black Ant, Taskmaster said, "Just because we can't stop you from coming here, doesn't mean you can bring filth like him in here!"

Wade snorted. Spider-Man? Filth compared to literal villains? Yeah, right.

More clamoring from the crowds as more people got up, voicing their complaints.

"Do we kick em' out?"

"Kick em'? Imma blow their brains out!"

"Hey, what's wrong with Spider-Man anyway?"

"Who cares? I call first dibs. Guy tossed me in jail and I think a few broken bones are in order."

"Kay, but why's his shirt off?"

Wade backed up a few steps, before glaring and grabbing one of his guns. A shout of panic as the hoard either ducked for cover or went for their own weapons, but Wade simply fired several shots into the ceiling, silencing them all instantly. He pointed the gun toward the crowd, holding Spider-Man close.

"Okaaay," he said loudly, "Obviously, ya'll are a bunch of pricks and can't share a fucking bar like a bunch of good evil-villains with a revenge fetish, but if any of you touch him, I'm touching you...with my fists and bullets, if it wasn't obvious. Point is, I have swords and they are the only point you need to worry about. Kapeesh?"

Irritated grumbling. Hands lingering near weapons.

"AND," Wade emphasized, "He's also high as Iron Man shooting a missile into deep space, so it's not like he can do anything about your little bar anyway."

That seemed to break the tension.

Shocker, who had retaken his seat, sat straighter, waving his arms around, "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, "You telling me you got Spider-Man high?" He looked over Spider-Man again, leaned back in his seat, and nodded appreciatively, "Respect."

"What?" Wade said, "No! I didn't do this!"

"Huh-uh."

"Seriously, tell em' Spidey!"

Spider-Man finally looked up, gaze roaming over the mass of faces that all promised some sort of pain. He looked back up at Wade, then at them, then at Wade again. "I wasn't listening," he slurred, "Whut?"

"Okay, asking you probably wasn't the best option."

More roused now, Spider-Man straightened up, still sagging into Wade's side for the most part, but enough that he wasn't doubled over. He squinted at the villains, lenses pinching tightly, and whispered loudly to Wade, enough for the crowd to hear, "I think I know these guys."

There was a long silent beat as the villains let that sink in.

Then, "Holy shit, he really is high."

Shocker erupted in laughter, head thrown back, one hand slapping the table. When he finally finished, he heartily put all his chips in the middle of the table like a man who'd just come across a winning hand, "I'm all in."

The rest of the bar inhabitants were in the throes of laughter as well, jovely going on about how they never expected Spider-Man, of all people, to be a pot-head. It must've been loud and grating, as Spider-Man growled under his breath, rubbing his temples sorely. He took it for another minute before lurching up, throwing his hands in the air.

"Just shut the fuck up," he yelled, massaging his head more roughly as he swayed on his feet. His voice pitched higher, shrill and irritated. "And you wonder why we beat the shit out of you. Fucking rude. You sounds like Wolverines claws on chalkboards. Especially you, quilt-man," he shot this at Shocker, who suddenly looked far less amused as he muttered, "Quilt-man?"

Deadpool reached out to stabilize him, but Spider-Man brushed him aside, and stumbled forward, almost collapsing on the nearest table where the likes of Bullzeye, Crossbones, and Beetle were mulling over some kind of hit-job. Spider-Man brushed the papers to the side uncaringly and poked a finger in Crossbones's face.

"And you know what else?" He demanded, "You want to know what fucking else? Huh? Do you? Do you Crossbones?"

"Uh - no. Not rea-"

Spider-Man climbed half-way up the table, shoving his finger more insistently in the mercenary's face, "DO YOU?"

"Yeah, okay, fine," Crossbones shouted back, knocking Spider-Man's finger aside. "What else?"

SPider-Man's hand cocked inquisitively to the side, "But do you really wanna know?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Really?"

"I just said-"

"REALLY?"

"YES! JUST TELLING WHAT FUCKING ELSE, YOU DAMN MOTHER-FUCKING-"

Deadpool quickly pulled Spider-Man back and pushed Crossbones back in his seat when he went for his knives, "Whoa-kay, easy there. Man, you get so riled up. Just chill. Do I need to come up with a calming technique? Breath in and out? Count numbers? The sun is getting real low?"

"Silly," Spider-Man said, bopping Wade's noise, "The sun is already down. I know," he pointed to a window that wasn't there. "I checked."

"Yes you did," Wade pat his head. "Very good." He backed them up, let him go slowly, and turned to the bartender, "Water. He needs water. Stat." But when he turned back around, Spider-Man was gone, up and wandering around the tables, swaying on his feet and bumping into people who shot glances that were as loathing as they were amused.

He plopped down at a table near the back wall and swung an arm around Trapster, spilling the man's drink down his front, "Paste Pot Pete!" He exclaimed gleefully. "I remember you. You're a funny dude."

"It's Trapster! TRAP-STER! And get the hell off me, ya little bastard," Trapster growled and shoved him away. Or, at least tried too. Spider-Man's arms refrained stuck tight to his shoulder, and after several attempts, it still didn't budge.

"See," Spider-Man said, "That's why we get along." To Electro and Mysterio, who were sitting opposite of them, he whispered, "Cause we're both so sticky."

"GET OFF!"

"But you," Spider-Man continued, ignoring Trapster and pointing at Mysterio, "Are a little bitch! Why can't you just stay in jail, huh? Why do you make it so hard? With you stupid fucking robots and illluuuusioons."

Mysterio gasped, a hand over his chest as if affronted.

Deadpool rapped his knuckles against the table, front of Spider-Man, drawing his attention again. "Stop trying to pick fights," he said, putting a glass in Spider-Man's hands. "C'mon, you can bare your heart and soul later. You know, after the drug wears off and your once more accountable for your actions."

"But I wasn't done," Spider-Man whined as Deadpool pulled him to his feet, "And you," he pointed at Electro, "Chill. Out. You are always so uptight. Do you need some help getting that stick out of your ass, because-" Deadpool clamped a hand over his mouth before he could finish and led him away.

He put him in a chair. "Now sit. Don't move."

Spider-Man watched Deadpool slowly back up to the bar before the merc quickly turned and scrambled out a frantic order of food. With his back turned, Spider-Man leaned in his chair at the table nearby.

"Psssst," he whispered, "Hey, pssst!"

Boomerang sighed, "What?"

"So what is this place?"

"The Bar With No Name, it's a bar for," he paused, "You know what, don't worry about it. You probably don't know about it anyway-"

Spider-Man snapped his fingers, lenses going wide, as he gasped, "Oh! You mean the old bar that villains go to cause they think no one knows about it?"

Boomerang sputtered over his drink, "Wha - what?!"

Spider-Man ignored him and got up again, ignoring the frantic sputtering that followed him. "I'm hungry," he announced to no one in particular. "Wade said there'd be food, but" he glowered at his empty palms, "I think he lied to me."

He spotted a mechanical tentacle in the corner and gasped, "Doc Ock? Is that you?" he leaned in closer to a look and recoiled in surprise, "Oh, it's Lady Doc Ock. Hello?"

"Do you have something wrong with me being a woman?" She snapped.

"What? No, no, no, no!" Spider-Man flapped his hands around, suddenly frantic, "I - I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. That was probably really rude, S - see, I would never - I'm a feminist, I would never," he looked shame-faced to the side, one and over his mouth, "I'm just as bad as the bad guys now, aren't I?" he whispered, "I'm just so hungry, I can't think. I'm sorry. Wade promised food and there's no food."

White Rabbit looked almost piteous. She glanced down at her buffalo wings and beer and gingerly nudged them toward him, lips curled. "Uh, here. You hungry?"

When Spider-Man looks down at her, she swore he was almost sobbing. "How did you know?"

         <><><><><>LINE BREAK<><><>

It was while chowing down on a hastily made sandwich and a glass of water, did Spider-Man lurch up from the table he was occupying with Shocker, Boomerang, and Electra, cup his hands around his mouth and yell to Wade, who was watching him from the corner.

"Hey! Hey, Wade! I'm gonna be a bad guy now! To fit in!"

"Can't wait for you to tell me all about it."

Having received the go-ahead, Spider-Man plopped back to the table, clicking his fingers together sinisterly, "Okay, tell me how to be a bad guy."

Shocker shrugged, "Wouldn't call us bad guys," he grumbled into his cup, "But, uh - I don't know, go rob a bank, I guess."

"Okay, I got this, I got this, I got this." Spider-Man nodded, rolling his shoulders as if preparing to pick a fight. "Rob a bank. I'm on top of this. I'm totally on top of this," then he added, off-handedly, "You know, kinda like how I want Wade on top of me right now."

Boomerang had to do the heimlich on Shocker due to him choking on his chips.

<><><><>LINE BREAK<><><><>

"HOLY SHIT IS THAT SUPERHERO TRIVIA?!"

"Yep, every Saturday night."

"Wade! Wade, they got superhero trivia! Wade, hurry, you can be on my team!"

<><><><>LINE BREAK<><><><>

"WHOO! DANCE PARTY!"

Deadpool lurched from the wall, "No, no, no, WEBS PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON!"

<><><><>LINE BREAK<><><><>

"WHO WANTS TO WATCH ME DRINK THIS ENTIRE BOTTLE OF VODKA? GIMME A HELL YEAH FOR HIGH METABOLISMS!"

"Holy fuck, Spider-Man, put the fucking bottle down!" Deadpool yelled over the eager, "HELL YEAH" from the villains crowding around Spider-Man, who was standing on one of the tables.

<><><><>LINE BREAK<><><><>

"Yo, Deadpool, I think he's starting to burn himself out."

"Also, his pulse is going super fast."

"...like super fast."

"...Uh...I don't know, is that healthy?"

<><><><><>LINE BREAK<><><><><>

"Are you sure we can't just take one peek under the mask?"

"You do and I'm gonna carve him a new mask with your face," Wade threatened with an open-mouthed grin.

<><><><>LINE BREAK<><><><>

When Peter woke up he felt like, well...hell.

He groaned loud and obnoxiously into, what looked and smelled, like a coat that belonged to a hobo. He hoisted himself up on his arms, slowly, squinting around the room. The lights were dull but felt downright harsh to his sensitive eyes.

"Where am I?" He whispered and it hurts how dry his throat is.

Glass crunches under pressure as a pair of boots stop next to him and crouched down. A glass of water dangled in his face, which he took eagerly.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Wade's red and black panda-mask greeted him. "On a scale of 1-to-kill me, how bad is your hang-over and drug recession?"

Peter blinked several times. "Hangover? D - drugs?!" He lurched up and almost fell back down, holding his head. "Wade, what the hell happened?"

Wade looked down at him, head in his hands, "Weeeell, that little drug cartel we were trying to stop? Yeah, they totally knicked you with that fun new superhuman drug they were working on. Got us out of there but you went totally bananas bonkers, like me, but a lot clingier."

"Debatable," Peter mumbled.

"Anyway, they were following us, so I hid us out in a bar."

"A bar?"

"Well...a bar for villains"

Peter's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull, "The Bar With No Name? That villain-bar? The bar that the villains think no one knows about?"

Wade winked, "That's the one."

"What the hell made you think that was a good idea?! Do you have any idea what they could've done?"

"Noooo," Wade said, slowly, "But I'm pretty sure they're all aware of what you can do."

For the first time upon waking up, Peter gave the room a good glance over, and nearly spit up his water. Villains were sprawled around the room in large, slumbering heaps. Some were half-clothed and others draped over the tables or strewn across the floor. One guy was hugging and empty vodka bottle to his chest with the signature "Spider-Man" scribbled on the side. Trivia cards littered the floor where tabled and chairs were overturned and when Peter looked down, he noticed the cheap plastic medal that said "Trivia Night Winner!" dangling around his neck.

"Yeah," Wade said, "It got wild. Don't worry, I stopped you as best I could, but I couldn't stop them. Who knew you were such a party animal Spidey? I don't think I've ever seen them so lively."

Peter couldn't stop gaping around the room, mind still trying to wrap around it. Numbly, he asked, "B - but what about the drug cartel?"

"Well, after everyone passed out, I tucked you in, and I hunted them down. Cartel was busted. Called the police. No casualties."

"Holy shit, really?" Peter blinked at him, "Wow, that...that's great. Sorry, I'd be more excited, but..." he rubbed his temples, "My heads killing me."

"Yeah, let's get you home, okay?" He carefully helped him to his feet.

"Wears my shirt?" Peter asked, crossing his arms over his naked chest.

"Ripped," Wade shrugged, "But here," he picked up the ratty old coat, "I got you this."

"Gee. Thanks."

They left through the side door, stepping past unconscious villains as they went. They passed Taskmaster and Black Ant snuggling it out under a table, and Mysterio's helmet lying upturned on the counter halfway filled with beer. The villain it belonged to was sleeping near it, face smushed into the puddle of drool dripping under him.

Also, Peter was pretty sure his pants were on backward. "What the hell?" he repeated, rubbing his eyes.

Wade grinned, and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, "Don't worry, I'll show you all the pictures."

"THERE ARE PICTURES?"

Did you know there's woman Doc Ock in the comics now? Cool! :D

Anyway, this was just a crazy brain-baby made out of lemonade and exhaustion. Doesn't make much sense, but it was still fun to write. Hope you enjoyed.