Chapter Text
It's really remarkable how it all comes about. His Spidey-sense doesn't even flare, that's how little of a threat this guy, Greg, is. Greasy, eau de McDonald's Wrappers constantly wafting off of the two shirts he constantly wears, kinda neckbeardy, if Peter's being honest- The guy is almost negative on his danger scale.
"Hey, Peter. OrshouldIsaySpider-Man?" Greg rushes out gleefully, and even his execution of the secret that could potentially ruin Peter's life is done poorly. This guy sucks. At everything.
Anyway.
Peter just stares at him, flabbergasted. "Wh..." He jerks into motion after a solid minute of shock, trying to figure out how Greg, the same guy who poured milk into the K-cup holder of their Keurig machine, figured out something that Peter had hidden so well, it took the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist sitting smugly in Stark Tower ages to figure out who he was. And that guy was, like, so many leagues away from Greg that Jules Verne was trying to rise from the grave to write a sequel.
So.
Greg.
Peter's heart seizes for a moment, and he looks around, making sure nobody heard Greg, before gripping the other's upper arm and hauling him into a tiny, mostly-empty cubicle. "Dude, are you crazy? Don't just accuse someone of crap with Jameson like two doors down. He might actually believe it!"
Greg gives him an unimpressed look, followed up with a wretched, shit-eating grin. Heck. "It's on video, Parker," he leers, unlocking his phone. "From that one time you webbed into an alley? And changed, and thought no one was looking?" He hesitates. “And before you think of taking my phone and destroying it, I already moved it to my computer," he says triumphantly.
Heck.
Peter clears his throat. "What do you want, Greg." he says, low and cold, because if Greg didn't want something, he would have already exposed Peter to, y'know, the newspaper they both work for. "Is it money? Because I hate to break it to you, because I wouldn't be working at this crapshoot if I had it. And no matter what people think, I don't take charity from Iron Man." Something in his tone must scare even the greasiest of scumbags (that's Greg, by the way), because he flinches before huffing. He's clearly torn between trying to get more of a reaction from Peter and blurting out what he wants.
"I want you to stop."
Short-circuit. Peter blinks. "What?"
"I want you to stop being Spider-Man." Greg must notice Peter's extended, murderous silence, because he quickly babbles, "just for. A couple months." Now he just looks shifty, and Peter feels ice cold dread well in his stomach. Of course Greg is an actual villain, villain. Imagine that. Neckbeardy Greg, who Peter and the other colleagues have to physically, constantly keep from being creepy all the time, whose sense of social cues is practically nonexistent, is smart enough to keep Spider-Man from getting involved in his operations through blackmail. Peter's not sure whether to be impressed or horrified.
"If you're going to do something illegal," Peter says, flat and slow, "I don't need to be Spider-Man in order to stop you. I can report you to the cops. Right now."
"Is that a threat?" Greg splutters, looking cowed. When Peter doesn't answer (purely in a desperation to get Greg to spill more information), he, sure enough, barrels on: "Because, just so you know, I took precautions." He clears his throat. "As in. I've set up a computer program, y'know? And. If I don't enter a password every day at a certain time, it'll send the video to all the major news outlets. And that would suck, wouldn't it?" he raises his eyebrows, trying to look intimidating. He's got balls.
Peter tries not to panic. Greg's forcing him to turn a blind eye to his crimes... And Peter has no idea what Greg could be planning. He's just the type of Nice Guy™ to have a vendetta against women in general, or guys who are better off than he he is. What if he's planning to kill people?
For now, he has to keep Greg silent, until he figures out what to do.
"Okay," Peter says, trying not to sound too ambivalent. He's gotta make Greg believe he's giving up easily, that he's scared, and of course, Greg looks pleased, and it pisses Peter off to even look at him, but. Here he is. "Fine. I'll... Have Spider-Man look the other way."
"No." Greg folds his arms. "I, er. We- I mean. I have some plans. I don't want Spider-Man getting involved at all. I want you to take a break, Parker." He stares meaningfully at Peter. "I mean it."
So his wording hadn't tricked Greg. Jesus, is this guy a genius? That definitely doesn't excuse his awful behavior. Also, Peter's now convinced that Greg is part of some terrorist group or something, and his Spidey-sense is pretty clear on what it thinks, too.
"Fine," he says, short and forceful. "I'll ... Put him away."
"I have eyes all over the city, Parker." Greg swallows, but manages to hold his ground. "I want Spider-Man gone."
Peter's about to respond, but a chime from his phone momentarily distracts him.
From: 'pool
hey hey hey my sweet sticky spandexy spidey. home from malta and down a couple toes. u game for taco tuesday?
It's Friday. Despite his foreboding panic, Peter has to physically bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at how ridiculous Wade is. This is a Very Serious Situation™, he doesn't have time for Deadpool's antics. Well. That’s a lie, he kinda loves all of Wade’s bullshit, but he’s got to get a handle on Greg.
He shoves his phone into his pocket and levels a glare at Greg. His brain’s working overtime right now, and he’s torn between trailing Greg and just demolishing his computer and threatening him, but there’s the matter of that password thing. Fuck.
Either way, he can’t deal with it right this minute, so he just shakes his head and leaves the cubicle. He’s gotta find a way to get rid of that freaking video, but until then, he’s got to stash his favorite webhead away.
To: ‘pool
sorry Wade, I’m tired tonight. Think we can reschedule?
I missed you.
So. He’s kind of in a relationship with the merc, but in a we-don’t-talk-about-it-but-we’re-lowkey-exclusive way. They’ve only ever slept together in masks while Peter works the courage up to tell Wade who he actually is. Wade’s working up the courage to take his mask off completely. They’re doing okay, respecting each other’s privacy, goofing off in Wade’s apartment to protect Peter’s secret and religiously avoiding the L-word. So yeah, it’s nice. Wade is almost ridiculously cute. Peter feels warmth start at the back of his neck and frisson all the way down to his toes as he feels his phone buzz.
From: ‘pool
Are you hurt? You’re okay, right? I need to shish-kebab someone?
I can do that. Know ur not crazy bout the killing ppl thing, bb webs, but what you don’t know won’t hurt you maybe? i’ll make pancakes if u come over
To: ‘pool
Not hurt, just tired. Kinda wanna be alone even though pancakes sound good. I’ll miss you tonight. Just have some stuff to take care of. No killing.
From: ‘pool
i believe you but yellow doesn’t. actually white doesn’t either. white says you’re keeping something important from us that’ll come back to bite u in ur pretty pert butt for Sacrifical Hero Reasons and Plot Development but that wouldn’t be the case, now would it, webs, babe?
Peter’s not sure what most of that means, but he’s, as usual, taken aback by Wade’s intuition. It always leaves him a little breathless. Also. It’s hot. But he can’t cave, because who knows who Greg’s hired to watch him?
To: ‘pool
Nope. Just blah tonight.
From: ‘pool
sleep well, my sweet summer spidey
To: ‘pool
I will.
—
He doesn’t. Of course he doesn't. Greg knows his secret. Greg! How did that even happen? He fruitlessly tosses and turns nearly all day, forlornly wishing he could patrol as some sort of pre-sleep therapeutic session. But. Whoever Greg was in kahoots with could be in the city, and who knew what would happen if one of them caught Spider-Man swinging around?
He should just go and patrol anyway, Greg be damned. But dread lines his stomach like ice when he thinks about his identity being revealed. He imagines Aunt May and his friends being targeted by whoever Greg is working with, and his heart sinks into his stomach. He can't. This is the worst.
An hour and a half of fidgeting later, he lifts his head to look at his alarm clock, which glows a baleful and unrepentant 3:29, and groans, groping for his phone on the nightstand.
To: 'pool
this sucks.
From: 'pool
now, webs, u know i hate liars. thought u were going to sleep?
Peter smiles, despite himself.
To: 'pool
can't stop thinking. my head is full of things.
From: 'pool
ain't anyone relating more than i am, darlin' spidey.
There's a shift in mood, all of a sudden. Peter isn't sure how he knows, but he feels it, like a crackle in the air. He has no idea why, or how, or when he started reacting like this, but he's suddenly aroused. Greg and his looming identity concerns seem to wane to the background of his mind.
From: 'pool
jerking off usually tires me out. shuts w + y up too. usually. they're disgusted when they see my dick. can't blame them, it looks like a flesh-colored radioactive zucchini.
Peter's typing before he even realizes it.
To: 'pool
the difference between your dick and a flesh-colored radioactive zucchini is that I actually want one of those inside me.
Silence, for a moment.
From: 'pool
them's fighting words, spider-man.
Peter shivers visibly, blushing as he ducks underneath his pillow. He's not sure why he's so flustered- this is his apartment, so it's not like anyone can barge in and see him, but there's something in all of this that leaves him feeling inexplicably dirty. But. In a warm, not-entirely-unpleasant way.
They haven't had sex; mostly, they've just gotten handsy with each other. Peter isn't sure why, but he's almost stupid sensitive, and sometimes all it takes is Wade nipping at the tendons of his neck or at his inner thigh, and he comes like he's fourteen again and sprouting hard-ons left and right. Also. Wade's dirty talk is absurdly hot, and Peter's pretty sure that most of the process is him just squirming, whining, and blushing in mortification as Wade talks him off.
From: 'pool
you've had five minutes to take back what you said and now you're in the dangAAAAH ZOOOOONE, spidey. honey, srsly. whatchu doing. you definitely do not want my extremely unappealing reproductive organs anywhere near your incredibly cute ass. it looks like freddie kreuger fucked a pickle and had a weirdly sentient lovechild with it. My dick, I mean. Not ur ass. Ur ass is perfect.
To: 'pool
Re: 'you've had five minutes to take back what you said'
I'm not taking it back, wade.
From: 'pool
I
From: 'pool
go to sleep, spidey.
Disappointed, Peter tries to keep his eyes open in case Deadpool texts again, but once the warm rush of arousal wanes, he finds that he can't seem to stay awake.
--
Two things hit him when he wakes up to sunlight streaming into his window: oh my GOD Greg knows mY IDENTITY and Deadpool didn't text me.
The latter, though less important, actually makes him feel a little worse for a second. He has no idea what he might have said wrong, or what could have gotten Deadpool that riled up about the idea of having sex with him, but he doesn't have enough time to think about it before his phone lights up.
Unfortunately, it's not Deadpool.
From: local asshole
Hey parker, remember our deal.
To: local asshole
It's not a deal, Greg. It's blackmail. And somehow, you're definitely going to end up regretting it.
From: local asshole
whatever parker
After that scintillating conversation, Peter finds that the day drags on even more than usual. He manages to avoid Greg leering at him all day at the office, but then realizes, when he has nothing to give Jameson, that he has a new problem.
"Greg," he hisses at the other, reluctantly, as the other walks by. "What the heck am I supposed to do when I have to take pictures? This is my job, man. I need pictures of Spider-Man."
Greg looks like he actually didn't think about this problem, which doesn't even mildly surprise Peter. Greg has never ever thought things through, which is why he's an absolute failure. But he digresses.
"I- Can't you just-" Greg thinks, which is a stressful process for Peter to even watch. "Okay. Fine. Just take them ... away from... From crime," he finishes lamely. "And you can't do it every day, so make sure you take enough for a while when you do it," he says, tilting his chin upward as if he's proud of how much authority he has in this situation. Peter hates this guy.
“Fine.” He hisses, unfortunately grateful for this tiny bit of reprieve. He has no idea what he’ll do if he’s fired from this job; between work, online classes, and Spider-Man, he really needs the cash. Not only for his apartment, but for Aunt May’s place, too. As of right now, the only thing carrying him through his online classes is the fact that it’s mostly catch up right now.
He rubs his eyes as his phone buzzes, and a momentary, relieved calm sweeps over him.
From: ‘pool
u functioning, baby boy?
To: ‘pool
No.
From: ‘pool
come over tonight? i’ll make pancakes.
Peter sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s ... not ready to reveal who he is just yet, especially now that Greg is playing mind games with him; he’s worried that he can’t handle the stress of giving his identity away when he feels like he’s being watched. On top of that, whoever Greg has on the field might already know about his fling with Deadpool... Heck. What if Greg is in kahoots, with, like, HYDRA? He wouldn’t be surprised if a small fry like Greg was just a pawn in a bigger game, only to be killed and thrown aside once he’s no longer significant? Peter has to get to the bottom of this soon, or he’s going to have an aneurysm.
But first, Wade.
To: ‘pool
Sorry DP. Kinda feeling a bit sick. Rain check again?
It takes a minute for a response, this time.
From: ‘pool
that’s cuz u don’t sleep, honey, and instead choose to banter with a shriveled up avocado-man. get urself some zquil, i’ll see u tomorrow
It’s not like he’s not appreciative of Deadpool respecting his boundaries, but he halfheartedly wishes the other would barge into his room and cuddle with him. Wade is, unsurprisingly, an awesome cuddler. Unsurprisingly, because he’s very muscly, and his biceps are really firm, and his thighs are always so warm and solid against the back of Peter’s. It’s crazy nice. And Peter wants.
To: ‘pool
One, you’re not a shriveled avocado man, two, things like zquil don’t really work on me for some reason, and three, I’m sorry for backing out again. I really want pancakes.
From: ‘pool
webs. are you okay?
The sudden intensity of the message makes Peter hesitate, and his heart drops again. He feels like he’s complicating everything so much, but he’s too worried about whatever pies Greg has his grubby fingers in, and he just ... can’t. God, he’s stressed.
Before he can respond to Deadpool, though, Jameson is back on him for not taking pictures, and Greg is finding it all very funny, and Peter has to use his lunch break to take as many (admittedly not great) pictures of Spider-Man as he can. He would have taken them that night, but he’s got almost endless homework from his classes, and he’s just. Stressed. Yeah. Plus, he somehow, as Peter Parker, he has to figure out what Greg is up to.
He gets so occupied with finishing his work that he forgets to respond to Deadpool; in fact, before he even realizes it, it’s two in the morning and he’s back on his bullshit, too strung up to fall asleep.
He gets his camera and climbs the stairs of the fire escape, looking around before stealthily slipping into his suit. Greg said he could take pictures, but ... And now that he thinks about it, if it’s HYDRA that Greg’s involved with, then why wouldn’t they have just kidnapped him by now? No, HYDRA wouldn’t dangle blackmail over him like this; they’d just kidnap him, or kidnap Aunt May... anyway, they’d have done what they set out to do already. They’re proactive like that. The thought brings him a little bit of relief.
He’s just finished taking a set of better pictures and is slipping out of suit when his Spidey sense rings loud and clear in the back of his head. He grips his camera close, protectively, glancing around discretely, his back stumbling back against the door to the rooftop so he can’t be snuck up on.
“That definitely wasn’t wise, Parker,” the voice curls, low and dark, from the shadows. For some reason, Peter can’t figure out where the voice is coming from, but it’s definitely not Greg. No. This must be Greg’s guard dog, keeping an eye on him... and this guy knows where he lives and everything. Heck. “Fortunately for you, you kept away from the city like a good boy. I would hate for your secret to be revealed.”
Peter looks around the dark, shadowed rooftop discretely, trying to figure out where the voice is coming from. It sends chills down his spine, not knowing who he’s up against. Whoever this guy is, he’s way more dangerous than Greg, and he’s definitely just using Greg, and he’ll definitely put Greg down when he’s done with him.
He takes a deep breath. “Who are you?”
“Me? Just a watchman.” The voice’s direction moves, and Peter tries to follow. “But don’t you worry about that. You focus on keeping Spider-Man away ... from New York City and Deadpool.”
Peter’s heart plummets into his stomach. He opens his mouth to respond, but he already knows the guy is gone. This... this is definitely not good. Who knows what they’ll do if he tries to contact Deadpool as Spider-Man?
For now, he realizes two important things: Peter Parker needs to keep his distance from Aunt May, to protect her and make it seem as if she’s not as important to him as she actually is, and Spider-Man needs to keep his distance from Deadpool.
—
His all-star plan lasts about two days.
He’s just gotten off a particularly craptastic day at work; Greg is all but breathing down his neck, even more so than usual, and Jameson is livid from the lack of stunning action shots that Peter usually provides. He’s been hearing whispers around, too- the beginnings of concern, of wonder as to where Spider-Man has been the last couple days. It sickens him.
He’s just gotten home, and it’s ridiculously late when he finally heats up some chicken noodle soup. He has no doubt it’s going to be another endless night, but he’s looking forward to at least no more interruptions... when his door nearly cracks in two.
“What the-“ Peter blurts out, reflexes working faster than his brain can keep up, but he doesn’t even have time to get into a defensive position before-
“Hiya, Peter,” Deadpool is standing there in all his red and black glory, sounding deceptively cheerful. All too cheerful, in fact, for a gun resting against one muscular thigh and a hand reaching back to, no doubt, grab a katana. “Peter Parker,” Deadpool continues, saying his name like he wants to bite into it. It’s actually kind of hot. God. Focus, Peter. Is Deadpool seriously going to try to kill him now? All too late, Peter realizes that Spider-Man never responded to Deadpool’s messages.
“Peter.” Deadpool repeats for the third time, but it’s markedly different this time. His voice has gone low and calm, a well of ice rippling around Peter’s name as he moves closer. For being generally clumsy and kind of accident prone when he’s not being a mercenary, Deadpool never fails to impress Peter- and, by extension, Spider-Man -with the nonchalant grace he exhibits as a merc. Before Peter is even able to babble anything, Deadpool is standing right in front of him, deliberately still and ramrod straight and silent. It’s freaky as all hell, because Wade is never silent. Even when he’s quiet, he’s bouncing, bopping, tapping... some, any kind of motion.
Deadpool’s hand moves back again, and Peter freezes, certain he’s about to be skewered- until the other tosses something on the table behind them, his finger making a stabbing motion toward it.
Peter turns to look. Oh. Oh. It’s a newspaper. The Daily Bugle, in fact. And right there, on page numero uno, is a decidedly gloomy photo of Spider-Man against the edge of a roof, looking off into an endless night. The title says, Webbed Menace Finally Hangs Up the Suit?
And underneath the photo, in smaller letters, it says: Photographer: Peter Parker.
“Peter.” Deadpool says, one last time, sounding for all the world like he’ll gladly eat Peter if he doesn’t have something good for him. “We need to talk about Spider-Man.”