Oh my gosh, thank you so much for all the positive feedback last chapter!

Once again, a BIG thanks to my beta Peter for staying up through the night to read over this for me! You're amazing my dude!

Wade saw Spider-Man's face by accident.

It was after a battle in Hell's Kitchen. Dare Devil was fighting a group of ninjas who had a bad guy boner for him and, being the chivalrous crime fighters they were, Wade and Spidey gave him a hand.

With the combined forces of the Devil's freakishly enhanced senses, Spider-Man's inhuman abilities, and Wade's repertoire, the battle didn't take long. But that didn't mean they went without their share of bruises. Dare Devil was limping by the end of it and holding his ribs like his innards might fall if he let go. Wade took several throwing stars to the spleen and several more stab wounds to the gut. Spider-Man got away with only a cut on his brow, but it was leaking blood into the pocket of space between his lenses and his eyes. Wade, being the epitome of a gentleman, helped him find the nearest bathroom to clean up in.

It all happened too fast. One minute Spidey had his mask on and the next he slapped onto the counter as he bent over the sink, scrubbing furiously at his eye. Spider-Man probably thought Wade would leave the moment they separated, and normally Wade would've. He only stopped to ask if Spidey needed anything, like disinfectant or a towel that didn't have the durability of paper mache. It barely took 5 seconds.

When Spider-Man didn't hear the door close, he looked up and met Wade's eyes. A beat. Then Wade slammed the door shut and bolted down the hall like he had Colossus's recruitment speeches on his ass. He found a nice, cramped janitor's closet to hide in. It was a split-second decision. One hadn't made since he was a kid, running from the sound of his dad walking through the front door. It was within this sanctuary of brooms and mops that he tried to wipe Spider-Man's face from his memory.

Unsuccessfully.

Tangled brown hair, all knotted and messy. A grimy, sweat-soaked face flushed from adrenaline and colored purple on his jaw where a ninja roundhouse kicked him (good cheekbones, sharp jawline). Deep brown eyes that went wide and panicked when they locked onto Wade's blue ones, the left bruised and bloodshot.

Wade scrubbed his hands over his face. "Forget it. Forget. Forget. We are not breaking the bro code. Nope, nope, nope. Just forget the eyes and the hair and the face."

When was the last time Spider-Man shaved? His chin was prickly with a stubble that didn't look groomed enough to be intentional.

Stop! Bad Deadpool! Erase it from your memory like everything else important in your life. If you can forget you had a daughter, you can do this.

Has Spidey been sleeping? His eyes were heavy with bags and even juiced after a fight, he looked exhausted.

Wade smacked himself.

"No! Stop it!" He grabbed a container of Clorox off the shelf and had it halfway unscrewed before his brain caught up with him. Ruining his eyes would not ruin the memory. Nothing can ruin that memory. Mephisto himself couldn't pull it from Wade's head. Those beautiful brown eyes (dark from lack of sleep) and that tangled bushfire he called hair (probably so fluffy after being washed) were going to haunt him for the rest of his miserable life.

All it took was a few seconds for Spider-Man's face to sear into his brain. Grafted, carved, and welded. Chained to him.

Wade didn't know how long he was in the closet, but he shot up, knocking his head on one of the higher shelves when a soft progression of knocks thumped on the door. Knock knock na-knock knock. A shadow moved beneath the crack of the door and Wade went ramrod straight, and then shrunk in shame, shoulders meeting his ears. Timidly, he knocked back, finishing the rhyme.

Spider-Man didn't kick the door down like Wade was expecting. Nor did he punch his head through the wall, cackling "HERE'S SPIDEY!" Instead, Spider-Man's shadow shuffled anxiously.

"Hey," he paused. "Devil and I were going to grab something to eat. Do you want to join us?"

Wade's grip tightened around the mop he was forcing into a chokehold.

"Yep," he said, too shrilly. "Yepper depper. Be right there. Gotta finish putting McMop out of his misery first. Save some chow-mein for me, would you? Okay, ha ha, bye now."

Spider-Man hesitated, but slowly retreated. Wade waited 5 minutes to make sure he was gone before releasing his breath. He pretended to tidy up the closet, rearranging all the bottles and boxes as best he could in the low light, and sprayed Windex in his eyes for good measure, before gathering enough courage to leave the closet.

Heh. Been a while since we've been IN the closet, eh big guy? How's it feel?

"Peachy keen," Wade grumbled.

He expected to get yelled at. Or threatened into keeping his mouth shut. Get accused of being irresponsible and ruining everything. He expected his strange friendship with Spider-Man to come to a grinding halt, and for Spider-Man to tell him to leave New York and never come back. Maybe even throw him out himself.

The Avengers would've. The X-Men have done so. The Fantastic Four barely interacted with him, but give it time.

Instead, a miracle happened.

Spider-Man didn't bring it up.

He couldn't meet Wade's eyes for the rest of the night, and their banter was too tight and awkward to be normal (as if they were both treading a hazy line), but Spider-Man pretended it never happened, and so Wade did the same.

They both took the easy route and avoided a confrontation neither was prepared for.

That was several months ago, and Wade still didn't know his name.

Finding out who Spider-Man was would've been easy enough. Especially now that Wade's seen his face. It was all he needed to track the hero down, map out his friends, enemies, and lovers, and memorize his daily schedule. This is what Wade did for a living, and he's the best at what he does.

Except he didn't do any of that. Why? Because where Spider-Man was concerned, these were all off-limit boundaries. And while Wade crossed a lot of boundaries, he refused to treat Spider-Man like another job.

But that didn't stop him from watching Spider-Man.

Yes, that sounded bad, but let him explain. He's only started doing it recently. It's not like he was hiding underneath Spider-Man's porch or peeping through his windows to catch a peek. He wasn't doing it for malicious reasons.

It's for science.

Like right now. Wade hunkered low by a window, peering through his military-grade binoculars, tracking his subject of interest. No matter what Spider-Man said, being a mercenary had its perks. Like giving him the salary to afford equipment that would make the US military drool like salivating dogs. Besides, it's this, or watch Spider-Man through his sniper scope, and Wade had a feeling the sniper would make this look 10x worse than it was.

For all the time Wade spent with Spider-Man, he still didn't know the extent of his spider-sense. It's a hard motherfucker to pin down, which is ridiculous because it sounds so simple on paper. "Danger sense: a 6th sense that warns him of danger." Simple and straightforward.

Turns out, it's frustratingly more complicated than that.

It didn't just warn Spider-Man of enormous dangers, like bombs or speeding trucks, but minor dangers too, like a too-hot pizza and flu germs. On the rare occasion that Spider-Man opened up, he mentioned that it also works on his family and friends, letting him know when they were in danger. How in the frick-frack-paddy-wack did that work?

This little precognitive ability made Spider-Man so blasted hard to hit, and it fascinated Wade on a mercenary level.

That also sounded bad, but it's not like that. Stop thinking the worst of him. He forwent taking jobs on his special boy a long time ago, and that would not change anytime soon. But that didn't mean Wade didn't subconsciously map out ways to get around Spider-Man's spider sense. Think of it like a sudoku puzzle. He didn't do it to use against Spider-Man, just to scratch that itch in the back of his brain.

And his brain was very itchy.

He's even scoped it out a few times. Did some tests. Nothing dangerous, just small things. Like pointing a gun at Spider-Man's back during a fight. Sometimes, without even thinking about it, he webbed the gun out of Wade's hands and kept fighting. More often than not, he turned around to glare at Wade and tell him to stop playing with his weapons.

Recently, he's stopped turning around. Wade can't decide if it's because he's so gotten used to it it stopped registering, or if there was a secret third factor that he didn't see.

As he said, spider-sense was hard to pin down.

Through his binoculars, Wade tracked a head of brown hair as it trudged through the Bugle Newsroom, carrying a large cup of coffee in one hand (black, no sugar, one scoop of creamer—because Spider-Man was the actual maniac) and a donut. Wade zoomed in on him as he walked by the window, and he stiffened. Not enough to be noticeable by anyone who wasn't watching. Just a faint tightness in his shoulders and a furrow between his eyes. He squinted as said eyes roamed the office, searching for the cause of his suspicion. When they flitted out the window, Wade quickly ducked.

A few minutes later, he peeked again and Spider-Man was back at his desk, click-clacking away at his important Bugle duties. A fracture-thin tightness lingered in his frame.

Wade wasn't giving him a very peaceful workday. Or work week. Wade needed to proceed carefully. The conversation that would result from him getting caught wouldn't be a pretty one and would likely end with him dangling from the George Washington Bridge by his toes.

He settled back into position, watching Spider-Man scarf down his donut and inhale his coffee. Five minutes passed before he trudged back to the break room and came back with another donut and a smaller cup of coffee. Both were gone in seconds as well.

Did the Bugle take donations? Sigh, even if they did, it probably wasn't a good idea to send Spidey a cheese basket. It'd blow Wade's cover faster than a teenage boy's first hand job. Maybe he could send an anonymous gift to the whole Bugle staff?

Hmmm, that wasn't a good idea either. The Bugle's been attacked by more than one crazy villain looking for information, so its staff probably wouldn't trust an anonymous gift.

Wade huffed in frustration. If Webs wouldn't feed himself, then by God, Wade was going to do it for him. The idiot barely ate any meals. Just carbo-loaded whenever he had the chance. Which brought up several questions about his appetite.

Spider-Man ate constantly and it still usually wasn't enough. If there was free food within a mile, there's a 95% chance he'd sniff it out. At first, Wade assumed it was because he didn't have enough time to do more than scavenge, given his busy schedule, but Wade didn't actually know what Spider-Man did in his apartment. Watching his workplace was one thing, watching his home was another. There were lines even Wade didn't cross. He knew where Spider-Man lived, just not the exact apartment number.

From what he can deduce, Spider-Man consumed more than your average person, but didn't eat nearly enough to sustain it. If there was food nearby, he was eating constantly. Like last night, he went to one of those lame charity balls rich people throw to make themselves look good. He was there as a photographer and set up base smack dab next to the all-you-can-eat-buffet. He rarely strayed far from it, and when he did, he had a plate piled high with food next to him. If anyone cared to pay attention, they'd have noticed that their photographer ate enough to fill 3 adult people within an hour.

Wade was going to write it off as having a superhuman metabolism, but alternatively, Spider-Man went three days without eating or drinking, and still had enough energy to go out on patrol every night.

Wade lowered the binoculars to scratch down a few more notes in his notebook. It was already half full of his observations throughout the week.

-coffee drinker (black, no sugar or cream)

-boss is a DOUCHE

-takes pictures of himself for the Bugle (onlyfans when?)

-website manager?

-wipes hands and face a LOT (germaphobe?)

-spider sense responded to being watched

-spider-sense responded to a lamp pole (germs? Secret alien detection device?)

-probably needs groceries

-wore the same shirt for the last two days, doesn't seem to notice

He added "consumes more than his body weight in food" and "can go several days without food or water without change in his energy output."

When he looked through his binoculars again, Spider-Man glowered and stood up. He scoured his surroundings with more intent, jaw clenched, and that was Wade's cue to skedaddle before he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

He snapped his notebook shut, letting the binoculars dangle from the strap around his neck as he calmly shut the window. He'd leave the building from the back and stop by the security room on his way down to cut the video loop he put the cameras in hours ago.

Ten minutes later, he walked out the back door whistling a merry tune. He even had the decency to take all the back routes so civilians didn't point at him and go "Look! Look, there's Spider-Man!" because there's always some half-brained tourist who saw Wade's black-and-red getup of death and decided that's exactly how Spider-Man would dress.

It's fun to pose as Spider-Man and all, especially when it fired the hero up. But when people approach Wade about hero work, morality, and "doing jobs out of the kindness of his heart", it deeply offends him. Not that he's been taking a lot of jobs lately. He's not exactly strapped for cash, and he's too busy figuring out Spider-Man to focus on taking out some dirty capitalist with their pants down.

Hmm, he wouldn't mind taking out Spider-Man with his pants down, if you catch his drift. Wink wonk.

Wade switched from whistling to humming as he reviewed his notes.

He wasn't much of an egg-head, but he made some decent leeway in his spider research. If you didn't already know, spiders were weird little fucks. All of them. A bunch of wee little devils with too many legs, too many eyes, and too many secrets.

Ever since Spider-Man got upset over his 'job,' Wade's read every informational pamphlet, national geographic paper, essay, and factoid about spiders he could find. And who'da thunk! Research pays off. Things were making a lot more sense now. Like the spider-rubbing.

Most spiders were heartless bastards that ditched their babies before they're even born, mated only when necessary (something even eating their partner afterward), and lived a life of independent isolation.

It sounded like Wade's life.

Is this why Spider-Man is such a loner?

Wade always assumed it was because the guy was awkward as hell and wouldn't work with a team larger than three to save his life. But maybe a spider mindset was in play here. He can't be sure. He'd need to compare Spidey's hero life to his civilian life, which he can't do because boundaries.

But not all spiders are heartless devils.

Some species rubbed their legs against their parents/siblings backs and legs to show affection. It was a soothing action to convey that they didn't mean any harm, which is kind of adorable.

Reed was right about the piggyback riding too. Wolf Spider mommas carry their babies on their backs to keep them safe until they're old enough to go it alone. Wade didn't know what he found more amusing, Spidey Jr seeing Spider-Man as his momma spider or Spider-Man accepting the role seamlessly.

It's cute though. Wade loved a family man. If he ever introduced Spider-Man to Ellie, he had a feeling they'd hit it off.

Spiders also sense vibrations, which explains the whole talking-into-the-hair thing. A nice tidbit to know next time they bust their eardrums.

He's still not sure about the food exchange. He has an idea but doesn't want to get his hopes up, so he keeps that one on the back burner. (Who cares that spiders give food to the lucky arachnid they want to bone? Wade didn't care. He didn't care at all. Spidey probably didn't mean it like that, so there's no point even considering it.)

Wade read up on social behaviors in spiders and there were entire spider colonies that shared food, so it's probably that. Food sharing between pals. The bestest pals who occasionally get on each other's nerves. Sexual tension? What's that?

What about the blush? One of the voices pipes up.

It was a hot night. The temperature is supposed to climb even higher this week. It meant nothing.

Wade scowled and circled "courting gifts" not sure if he wanted to cross it out yet. He settled on stabbing several question marks at the end and snapping the notebook shut.

He's not a scientist, and he's sure as hell not a spider-human expert. How's he to know what's going on in Spider-Man's head?

<><><><><><><><><>

Spider-Man cornered him inside a warehouse on the docks.

Wade is inside scoping out a stakeout spot so they can finally get a jump on a human-trafficking ring Weasel got a tip about. He didn't even realize he was cornered until Spider-Man literally backed him into a corner. Wade felt the presence on his back before he saw him and had his gun out on instinct. Spider-Man expected that and before he could pull the trigger, his hand was webbed to the wall.

Wade whistled, tugging on the webs. "Been here a whole five seconds, and things are already getting kinky. I'm excited to see how you plan on passing the time tonight."

Spider-Man put up a finger for quiet. Pfft, as if that ever worked.

Wade pulled on the webbing again. "Is this a stronger batch? Just for me? How hardcore do you plan on going? My safe word is pistachio, by the way. Just in case."

"Would you shut up for one second?" Spider-Man snapped, planting his hands on his hips the way he did whenever he was gearing up for a lecture. Wade heaved a sigh, kicking his feet like a frustrated toddler.

"Can I go to the bathroom first?"

"No, you're listening now." Spider-Man's lenses narrow into slits. "Have you been stalking the Bugle?"

Instead of answering, Wade leaned against the wall and casually bent to slide a knife out of his boot to slice off the webbing.

"I don't know," he said easily, "I mean, hypothetically, if I were stalking the Bugle, how would you know? It's not like you're there or anything."

Spider-Man stiffened and Wade bit back a grin. Just because he wouldn't dig up Spider-Man's name, doesn't mean he will not tiptoe around the fact that he's seen his face. They never brought it up, which is fine, but they couldn't play it off forever. Wade didn't have the patience for that.

Besides, the more he watched the Bugle, the more he wanted to know. About Spider-Man, his name, and his habits. What his room looked like. If he lived in the dump, Wade imagined he did. An ache rises in his chest whenever he thinks about it and squashing it down isn't working anymore. He'd never force Spider-Man into letting him in, but he's tugging on the line, like a fisherman testing to see if he had a bite.

Spider-Man wasn't taking the bait. He stepped back, crossing his arms casually.

"I have a friend who works there," he said with a noncommittal shrug. "Said someone's been watching the building."

"And how would your friend know it's me?"

"He's a photographer, Pool. He has an eye for these things. And a Tamron four-hundred m-m lens to prove it. Why are you stalking the Bugle?"

With both hands-free, Wade brushed off his pants. "Do you have picture proof it's me? I'm innocent until proven guilty."

Spider-Man's fingers dig into his hips because wrapping them around Wade's throat and popping his head off was probably too much for his conscience. He's probably never had to get rid of a body, either.

"I don't have pockets to keep pictures in, Deadpool."

"Ooh, full names. You must really be ticked."

"Answer the question."

"I would like to call my lawyer first, but it might take a while. Matty stopped answering my calls."

"Deadpool, for the love of-" Spider-Man cuts off abruptly, head snapping to the side. "Someone's here," he said.

Craning his neck and listening closely, Wade barely made out the crunch of tires on gravel and the thud of a van door opening and closing.

"They're coming inside."

"That's what she said."

"Shh, come on."

Wade stepped into Spider-Man's knitted hands and allowed himself to be tossed to the rafters. The throw is seamless and strong, and all Wade has to do it step onto the metal structure and grab a beam for support. Seconds later, Spider-Man is crouched next to him. Together, they peer through the shadows as the doors of the warehouse creak open.

A small group enters. Ten people total. Wade singles out six common foot soldiers, two large muscle types, and another two who lead the group in. They spread throughout the building, the foot soldiers checking for unwanted guests as the hired-muscle stands next to the two headhonchos leading this foray.

"Oooh, mystery boss battle," Wade whispered. "These our peeps?"

"I don't know," Spider-Man squinted, crouching down. "The tip said it was going to be bigger." He hummed thoughtfully. "Either way, something is definitely going on here."

"Wow," Wade rolled his eyes. "I would have never guessed. Did your spider-sense tell you that?"

"I will push you off."

"I'd rather you jerk me off, but whatevs."

For a second, Wade thinks Spider-Man really is going to shove him off the beam, but somewhere deep in the pit of his patience, he drags out another breath and pinches the bridge of his nose instead.

"Why do I do this to myself?" He mumbles to himself. He claps a hand over Wade's mouth before he can answer that for him. A second later, his lenses narrow. "Did you just try to lick my hand?"

"Yeeeah. Wasn't sure you'd feel it through the mask."

"Gross."

They go back to watching the group. Only two of them really stand out to Wade: the hired muscle. Twins, it looks like. A man and a woman, both with biceps bigger than Wade's head. The foot soldiers are all dressed generically, meaning they'd planned on being incognito tonight. The head honchos are normal-looking enough too, one wearing a gray jacket slightly too small and the other sporting a blonde ponytail that puts Barbies to shame.

Ponytail and Jacket talk in a hushed whisper, neither looking happy about being here. All Wade can make out is indiscernible mumbling.

"What are they saying?" He whispered.

"They're talking about a package," Spider-Man whispers back. "And some busted drug exchange that happened a few weeks ago. I think it's the one we busted."

"Huh, no kidding?"

"Yeah." Spider-Man paused to listen again. "I think this is another drug drop. Weasel might've gotten the tip wrong. I don't hear anything about a trafficking ring."

"One-hundred percent bona fide agreement from me, Spider-Babe. They don't have a lot of numbers, but they're packing some heat." Wade nods to their weaponry. "That's some good shit. They got the pockets for it. This package of theirs has gotta be a big one." He snickers at his own innuendo.

"If it's so important, why did they bring such a small group?"

Wade shrugged. "It draws less attention. Any bigger word might've gotten around. As good as that did them. Still, small-hand offs may go unnoticed-"

"But they're easy to break up if you find them." Spider-Man finished, nodding. "Well, I guess it's up to us to put the kiddies in time out."

Wade cocked his guns. "Give them a solid spanking for being naughty."

"Must you always?"

"Hey, if you took that wrong, it's on you, not me. You're the one with the twisted imagination, you perv."

Spider-Man rolled his eyes, but he sounds amused. That's an improvement, at least. "I'll cut off their exit."

"And I'll pay our party guests a visit in, how long do you need? Five minutes?"

"Three minutes."

Wade pulled out another gun, checking the magazine. "No killing," Spider-Man adds over his shoulder as he climbed up the beam. "If they're trying to go under the radar, there's gotta be a reason. We need them alive in case we can get anything else out of them."

"What happened to being naïve and wet-eyed for all human life? Not very in character of you, Webs."

Spider-Man flicked the back of Wade's head before disappearing into the rafters.

Wade counted the minutes in his head, taking stock of the shooters and their locations. The moment they saw him, those foot soldiers were going to engage so the big bosses can get clear. The hired muscle would stick with the bosses to ensure their safety. There's no point keeping the lackeys alive. Ponytail and Jacket would have all the information they needed, but Spider-Man probably wouldn't approve of that.

Wade hit the 3-minute mark and straightened. He took a second to stretch his neck and roll his shoulders, loosening any tension. "Alright, ya'll know the drill. Maximum effort and all that." With a loud "AIIE-AIII-AIEEE!" He leaped from the rafters, landing on one of the large crates below, back-flipped off it, and landed on the ground in a classic superhero pose.

"Heeey," He sang, sliding his swords from their scabbards. "I hate to be so forward, but could you do me a favor and give me your complete and undivided attention? My ex hasn't been returning my calls and I've just been so needy lately."

The reaction is as expected. A lot of guns and a whole lot more expletives. Wade's thoughts still and a wave of tranquility rolls throughout his body. Nothing made him more at home than having a gun pointed at his head.

He shot the closest lackey in the kneecap. "Thank you! I already feel so much better."

The floodgates open.

Wade rolled to the side and shot two more lackeys when he came back up, one in the shoulder and the other in the leg. The rest had the sense to find cover. As expected, the head honchos immediately run for the door with the hired muscle on their heels. Spider-Man lands in front of them, hands out apologetically, stopping their escape short.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you want to escape through that?" He blocked off the door with several sheets of webbing. "Whoops, looks like it's been inexplicably blocked off. But if you drop your weapons and come with me, I'll find you a nice, comfy jail cell to sit in." He dodges the punch aimed for his head. "No? I guess if you want to do it the hard way."

Wade perched behind a crate, trading shots with a goon behind a shipping container. The ones he's already shot are either sobbing on the floor, reaching for their fallen weapons, or trying to crawl to safety.

Just as one picks up her gun, Wade shoots her hand. What's a couple of fingers for your life, anyway? He never had this problem with corpses.

Skirting around the crate, Wade fires in the direction of the shipping container and tries his damn hardest not to cap a bullet between each pair of eyes he sees. How did Spidey go so long without breaking a few necks? It's so much easier.

"You are so lucky I promised not to kill any of you," Wade said, dropping behind the goon crouched behind the container, hitting them over the head with his gun. "Look at me, I'm oozing superhero moxie. When do you think the Avengers are gonna slide into my DM's? I'd look great standing next to Captain America."

"Believe me, you don't want to be an Avenger. Do you know how many debriefings you'd have to sit through? I don't think you'd survive." Spider-Man says from where he's wrestling with the hired-muscle.

"Are you eavesdropping on my fight? I thought mama-spider would've taught you better manners." Wade kicks a goon in the knees and knocks the back of their head too. "Besides, you're just saying that because the Avengers revoked your membership card."

"Hey, that's not true...for the most part. They're jealous of all my sex appeal. You know how Iron Man feels about sharing the spotlight."

"That's a debriefing I'd like to see."

Whatever Spider-Man is about to say is interrupted by one of the hired-muscle landing a hit to his torso and he sailed across the room, disappearing into a pile of crates.

Most of the foot soldiers are taken care of, so Wade swung himself over the top of a container, aiming for the female hired muscle. Just the legs, two shoots, and she'd be down. Just as he pulls the trigger, the male hired muscle barreled into him and the shot misses her by a hair. He's slammed into the metal shipping container as a large, meaty hand clamps around his throat and squeezes.

Wade knew super-strength when it grabbed him by the windpipe and this was definitely not your run-of-the-mill henchman. He pressed the tip of his gun to the man's arm just as his throat begins to collapse and an explosion of blood, bone, and flesh erupts between them.

The man lets go with a shriek and Wade stumbled back, one hand on his throat and the other aiming the gun.

"Motherfucking sonova-" Wade rasped, jabbing the tip of his gun into the man's head several times in lieu of putting a bullet in his brain, only taking marginal delight in the way the man sobs over his mangled arm. "You are - cough cough - you are so lucky I'm trying to get on Webs' nice list."

So while they had super-strength, they weren't trained in anything other than 'punch them until they stop moving' and 'stand really big and look intimidating.' It worked well with Wade's 'shoot them once and watch them cry' technique. Still, dying after getting his throat crushed was infinitely better than getting your throat crushed and being awake as it mended. He massaged his neck as the bones and muscles aligned and his spine mended.

Across the room, Spider-Man was fending off the woman easily enough. She had a bit more tact than her brother and managed to grab Spider-Man by his arms and was trying to wrestle him to the floor. A different goon Wade shot in the arm grabbed a gun with his uninjured hand and got to his feet, helping Ponytail up. He aimed the gun at Spider-Man's back as Ponytail reached into his coat pocket.

Wade shot the goon in the knee, and then the hand for good measure, but wasn't fast enough to stop Ponytail from lunging forward and desperately plunging something into Spider-Man's neck.

Wade lurched forward as Spider-Man gave a cry of pain, one hand curling around the shaft of his katana as the other took aim. He shoots Ponytail in the shoulder, then the leg, and has the tip of his blade pressed to his neck by the time Spider-Man overpowered the woman and knocked her unconscious.

"Hey, you okay?" Wade asked his partner.

Spider-Man curled his hand around the injured spot and yanked the syringe out of his neck. The liquid inside was mostly gone. A jolt of panic stabbed Wade's stomach, and he took a step toward him, only just remembering that Ponytail was still at sword-point.

"How do you feel?" Wade asked, racking his eyes over Spider-Man's body frantically. "Anything freakish happening to your body?"

"No more than usual," Spider-Man grunted, rubbing his neck. He cocked his head. "I'm...feeling a little hot? Maybe a little dizzy. But that might just be because Crazy Lady over there knocked me in the head."

Wade was half listening as he hauled Ponytail up by the collar of his shirt. "Okay, Ponytail, you're gonna tell me what you injected into my pal or I'm gonna starting taking those little piggies from her hands and feet to sell on the black market."

"Hey, hey man," Ponytail trembled, whimpering with each jostle to his newly minted injuries. "It-it was nothing. Just...just a shot of acid. That's all, I swear."

"You injected me with acid?" Spider-Man screeched.

Wade dug his katana deeper into Ponytail's neck.

"Wait, wait-" Ponytail screamed. "Not real acid. Y-you know, like blotter. Dots. It's not real acid, I swear it on my grannies grave!"

Wade mulled that over before dropping Ponytail like a sack of potatoes. "I think he's talking about an LSD. It's a drug. Tried a couple of them back in the day. Some of my favorite memories."

Spider-Man looked between Ponytail and Wade, hand clamped over his neck protectively. "Then why'd he call it acid?"

"Oh, LSDs go by a bunch of names. Acid, Blotter, Dots, Looney Toons, Hippie, Golden Dragon, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, you name it."

Spider-Man lifted a hand. "Yeah, I get it." He rubbed his neck one last time before dropping his hands. "Drugs don't work on me often, and if they do, they don't last long. But...but any idea what's going to happen to me? If it actually does anything."

Wade chuckled, swinging an arm over Spider-Man's shoulders. "Look at you! So cute that you've never done drugs before. Do you even know where to go to get a drug?"

"Yeah, Walgreens," Spider-Man snipped, shrugging off his arm. "Just because I don't snort cocaine doesn't mean I don't know where to get one. I have the option, Pool. I've busted enough peddlers to figure it out."

"Alright, boy scout. That dose looked like a lot, but because you're jacked on spider-steroids, it probably won't do much. If you're lucky, you'll get that sweet sweet euphoria. All the pleasant, happy tingles. Maybe even some fun reality warping. You ever wonder what the color yellow tastes like?" He clapped Spider-Man's shoulder. "You know, I'm kind of jealous. Drugs don't work on me anymore. Old me would be seething right now."

"Whoop-de-doo," Spider-Man deadpanned, crouching next to Ponytail-who'd fallen unconscious-to file through his jacket.

Wade laughed and fished his phone from his pouches. "Alright, Webs, I'll call the coppers and we can blow this joint. Or, you can at least, you druggie. Burgers are on me tonight since, with any luck, you'll be flying higher than a kite."

"Your empathy is truly moving," Spider-Man said wryly. He sat back on his haunches as he pulled out a small package wrapped tightly in plastic bubble wrap. "Well, what do we have here?"

Wade peered over his shoulder curiously as Spider-Man unwrapped it. "You know, I'm pretty sure this is tampering with evidence."

"This isn't a crime scene yet," Spider-Man said. "Besides, they went through all the trouble of going under the radar, aren't you a little curious as to why?"

Wade shrugged. "I mean, as far as mysteries go, this is no Scooby-Doo and the gang. But I'm always down for some misdemeanor and felony."

Spider-Man finished unwrapping the package and held up a vial. Inside is a near-colorless liquid, resembling the drug that had been injected in him. On the side, in black marker, it's labeled Dorothy.

Spider-Man twisted it in his fingers. "Do LSDs go by Dorothy, too?"

Wade shook his head, crouching to get a better look. "Not that I'm aware of." He took the vial with a hum. "Hey, want to see what it does?"

Spider-Man snatched it back. "You are not drinking this."

"Aw come on, it's for science!"

"Science isn't ingesting the first chemical compound you come across just to see what happens."

"Tell that to almost every person with superpowers. Half of your rogues' gallery are experiments gone wrong."

Spider-Man huffed. "Alright, that's not what science is supposed to be about. Come on," he stood up, "whatever this is, they were trying their hardest not to get caught. I have a bad feeling about it. I'll drop it by Tony's or Reed's to see what they make of it."

"Why? You getting the bad tingles?"

Spider-Man shot him a look. "I - what -" he sighed. "Yes, I'm getting the bad tingles."

"Uh-huh," Wade planted his hands on his hips. "And this isn't because you want to poke at it yourself and play scientist, right?"

"No!" Spider-Man snapped. Paused. "Maybe. I'll hand it over after I take a look, alright?"

Wade snorted but brought his phone to his ear. "Yeah, sure. I'm calling the cops on our friends here, you wanna take down your little web display?" He waved to the blocked-off doors. "Unless you don't want to. We can totally stick around and watch New York's finest try to tear it down."

"That joke is terrible and over-used." Spider-Man held out a hand. "I'll take it down, but I don't have enough web solvent for all of it."

Wade tossed him a small knife and Spider-Man got to work as Wade dialed the police.

<><><><><><><>

They're only 10 minutes away before Spider-Man starts acting weird.

Wade wasn't too concerned about the drug. As Spider-Man said, they didn't affect him very much, and if they did, it probably wouldn't last long. If it were anyone else, Wade would drop them off at the nearest hospital because much drug would kill a normal person.

But Spider-Man was simply swinging through the city with a lot more enthusiasm than normal, taking his time with loops and flips as he lazily followed Wade's trek across rooftops. Wade doubted he even knew where he was going. It was a little worrying for him be swinging while drugged out, but Spider-Man's spider-sense was still working and he didn't seem in danger of plummeting to his death.

Wade monitored him anyway. Just in case. He joked and teased about Spider-Man never doing drugs, but that didn't mean he wasn't concerned about his well-being.

He jumped across another building as Spider-Man did a series of fluid swoops and dives, his laughter echoing off the tall buildings where only they were high enough to hear it. Wade watched fondly, jogging across the rooftops and jumping onto a conjoining building. It was only a matter of time before they became skyscrapers, which were considerably harder to scale.

Spider-Man must've been thinking the same because as Wade jumped to another building, an arm suddenly wrapped around his middle and he was lifted into the sky.

"Whoa, whoa, hey!" he flailed, turning to latch onto Spider-Man's frame so he didn't become cement paste. "Warn a guy next time!"

Spider-Man giggled an apology next to his ear, and Wade promptly forgave him.

He swung them up to a skyscraper, dropping Wade and himself on top. As Wade collected himself and counted his weapons to make sure he didn't lose anything, Spider-Man stretched long and hard, a pleased sound coming from his throat as he bent completely backward, popping his back. Wade tried not to stare, but holy hell, you try not to drool when you got Mr. McBendy-Man out here putting Mr. Fantastic to shame.

Spider-Man didn't return from his stretch. Instead, he flipped backward, so he was on his back, starting at the smog. Wade grinned, kneeling next to him to poke the middle of his forehead.

"Hey? You still flying high?"

"I can see flowers in the sky."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Spider-Man hummed, taking a deep breath of air. He didn't even choke on it. Wade's poking turned into a gentle rub and Spider-Man's lenses narrowed in pleasure.

"You know, we're not so different," he murmured.

Wade cocked his head to the side. "Me or the sky flowers?"

Spider-Man laughed, laying his hand on top of Wade's, pinning it to his head. "I'm talking about us. We're not so different."

"I know I say a lot of stuff that gets lost on people, and if you think you're anything like me, then you must really hate yourself, but why do you think that? Asking for a friend."

"Because we're both just...trying to do better, you know? The world is shitty and sometimes we mess up, but we try. Our methods may not always work, but when it comes to protecting people who need to be protected, we do everything we can to keep them safe. And I think that makes you a hero in your own right, even if you don't think so."

Wade stared at him for a long minute before slowly raising his phone. "Please repeat that directly into the camera."

Spider-Man giggled and let go of Wade's hand so he could sit up. He stretched his arms again before hooking his hands under the hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. Wade was on his feet with a solid 8 feet of distance between them before Spider-Man lowered his arms.

"Uh, Spidey? Whatcha doing there, bud?"

Now shirtless, Spider-Man tossed his spandex top to the side and shot Wade a glance as he adjusted his web-shooters. He shrugged. "It's not as easy with my shirt on."

"I'm sorry, what's not as easy? What's happening here? I need a clear, precise explanation before this goes any further."

Spider-Man ignored him this time and got to work weaving strands of webbing from his web-shooters, jumping between this building and the one across from them. Wade slowly loosened up and crept to the ledge to watch him work. Spider-Man had constructed plenty of webs before, for many applications. Cocooning guys and hanging them upside down for the police to find, catching debris, catching civilians, patching crumbling buildings, and even the occasional hammock to take a nap in. But none of them were quite like this.

For one, this web is constructed strand-by-strand instead of a glob that expands into a pre-made web. Spider-Man sets up the foundations first and works his way in, weaving strands in and out in an intricate design that sparkles in the lights far below. His skin shines too. Either he was sweating a lot, or his body was having a concerning reaction to the drug.

As Spider-Man secures a strand near where Wade is sitting, Wade squints and leans closer for a better look. The sheen on Spider-Man's skin doesn't look like sweat. It looks more...oily. When Spider-Man strays closer, Wade swiped a finger over his arm, barely earning a glance from the other man, and examined the residue on his gloves.

He wasn't a sweat expert, but that definitely didn't have the same texture as sweat. Weird.

Wade wished he had his notebook so he could write this down. If he didn't jot it down now, he might forget to look it up on Wiki later.

Did Spider-Man secrete oil all the time or is this an occasional thing? It'd explain why he's always washing his hands and face.

Ten minutes later, Spider-Man puts the last strand into place before climbing into the web's center and easing himself down, laying with his hands behind his head, staring at the sky. Wade watched a little while longer before reaching over and plucking one strand experimentally. He follows the vibration up the web, at Spider-Man, who sits up, looking towards him.

"Hey!" He sounded offended. "What was that for?"

Wade shrugged. "Just wanted to see what would happen." He answered honestly. When he tried to pull his finger back, it took a lot of heaving before it slowly became unstuck, dragging thin silicone threads with it. Spider-Man was by his side in an instant.

"Stop! You're ruining it!"

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were using your extra sticky batch."

Spider-Man humphed as he mended the strands, not even sticking to them a little despite the contact, before slowly leaning back to make sure everything was in place. When he deemed it fit, he crawled back to the center and lay down. Wade put his chin in his hand.

"What are you planning on catching up here? Pigeons don't normally fly this high. You might get an Iron Man if you're lucky."

"M'not trying to catch anything," Spider-Man murmured. "Just relaxing."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

"Can I join?"

"No! You'll ruin it!"

"Aw, come on. I'm all lonely and webless over here. Give a pal a hand."

Instead of showing him mercy, Spider-Man throws something at him. Wade catches the slim bracket-like contraption with wide eyes.

"Make one yourself."

"Ohhh, you must be high off your shit if you're willingly giving me your web-shooters." Wade said.

"You don't get to keep them, just make your own and stop whining."

Wade clipped the bracelet onto his wrist and gave a few experimental thwips. It's a little snug, but a comfortable snug. He couldn't swoop and swing like Spider-Man, didn't have the super-strength for it, and it just looked exhausting as a whole. But he swings back and forth between the buildings in a poor mimicry, doing his best to copy what Spider-Man had done.

His web isn't very impressive, to say the least. Especially compared to Spider-Man's. But it's usable, and he jumped with a whoop, landing in its center.

"Mines higher than yours," he childishly sang. But when he twists to see Spider-Man's reaction, he realized his mistake. "Uh, Spidey?" Wade jerked, unable to move. "Fuck, wait, I think I'm stuck."

Spider-Man burst into laughter below him. "Didn't you change the cartridge?"

"What's a fucking cartridge?" Wade squirmed and flailed, but he was stuck tight. Oh, to be a helpless fly stuck in a spider's web. And not even in a fun way. All Wade can do it stare up at the sky and imagine the flowers Spider-Man claimed to see. He sank in a defeated huff.

"How long does this take to evaporate?"

"An hour."

Wade made a noise of pain. "I don't want to be stuck up here!"

"If you ask nicely, I might cut you loose."

"The Bugle is right about you. You are a menace."

"The one and only."

Wade was debating whether he could reach the knife strapped to his thigh with minimal bone-breakage when a vibration crawled up the strands of his web. He froze. Another vibration. Craning his neck, he twisted to the point of straining a muscle, just in time to watch Spider-Man scoot closer, lying just under the edge of Wade's web. He deftly picked at the strands. Another vibration thrummed and Wade shivered.

Suddenly, everything felt very still. Like the city itself was holding its breath.

Wade's spider research rose to the top of his brain, one fact in particular, and his breathing hitched.

Spider-Man plucked another strand. Another wave of vibrations hit Wade, never spamming the entire web. Focused solely on him. So high above everyone else, away from the clamor of the city, it feels like it's just the two of them. Alone in the moment.

Wade watched the steady rise and fall of Spider-Man's chest. The way he inhaled before every pluck, playing a tune of vibrations that makes little sense to Wade's non-spider brain. It's serene. Almost intimate. Wade's chest seizes, and it's suddenly harder to breathe.

Then Spider-Man fumbled. He plucks the wrong strand and the vibrations span across the web. It's a simple enough mistake, but Spider-Man freezes, breath-stopping entirely as his hand hovers motionless in the air. It's silent for a beat.

Then a red flush washed down Spider-Man's neck and chest. In the blink of an eye, he was off the web, scrambling onto the rooftop.

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Wade squirmed in his makeshift prison, reaching for his knife.

"Sorry Wade, I just-" he sounded flustered. Embarrassed and unable to look Wade in the eye. "I've got to go."

"No! Wait, the drug hasn't worn off yet. We don't know what it's going to do to you. Just wait a damn second." Wade grabbed his knife, cutting at the strands, but by the time he could turn around, Spider-Man was already gone.

He searched the empty rooftop for a clue about what direction he'd taken, but there was none.

"Fuck," Wade said with feeling. 

Aye! Welcome back! Here are your spider facts for this chapter:

1) Spiders are insatiable. They are eating constantly. Literally, their entire lives are made up of mostly just eating and hunting for their next meal, with the breaks in between to reproduce. But, while they can just eat and eat and eat, they can also go days without eating anything at all. So our boy Peter has grown into their habits. If there is food he's allowed to eat in the area, he is a bottomless pit and will eat as long as people will allow, and given his crazy, financially unstable lifestyle, he can also go days without eating and not even notice it.

2) Drugs can affect the way spiders spin their webs. On LSD drugs, spiders create beautiful intricate webs. On the other hand, if they're on caffeine, their webs are more terrible and sloppy. So, with Peter juiced up on the Acid, he creates himself a large beautiful web to rest in.

3) Spider bodies create a special type of oil substance that prevents them from sticking to their own webs. Peter secretes his oil all the time, so he has to wipe his hands and face off all the time so people don't notice.

4) Some male spiders play of series of vibrations on a female web as part of a courting ritual. However, if they play one note off, he'll be mistaken as a struggling fly and she'll attack and eat him. For Peter, it's a mesh of his human and spider side. He plays the vibrations as the usual flirting/courting, but if he makes a mistake, its not the spider fear of getting eaten, its the human fear of rejection. Like he's not good enough, which is why Peter was so embarrassed after making his mistakes, and why he flees the scene immediately after. It's the equivalent of going up to your crush in High School but stumbling over your words and making a fool of yourself in front of the entire student body.

Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!