Chapter Text
He’s fine.
Peter swung into the alley where his clothes were stashed, but his landing was a little rough. He wasn’t feeling the best at the moment. He let the web go a little too early and tumbled onto the ground, rolling a few feet before slamming into the dumpster at the end. He groaned and pushed himself up a little, the lenses of his mask clicking weirdly.
It was around sunset, but Peter knew that he reached his limit for today. There’s no way he could continue his patrol like this. Peter groaned as he got up, limping towards the backpack he hid behind the dumpster.
The adrenaline began to wear off by the time Peter had dragged the bag out from its hiding spot. He was feeling abnormally tired, and all he could smell was blood and sweat, so Peter decided to be a little risky. He rolled his mask up over his face and took in a deep breath, relishing in the somewhat cleaner air.
Lately Peter has been feeling oddly on edge, and unfortunately he’s been rougher with criminals than he wants to be. That aggression originally began with just bad guys, but now it’s slowly starting to spread to seemingly random people who don’t deserve it. Baristas, other college students, etc.
…It’s been especially worst around Deadpool, who certainly deserves it. Peter can’t explain it, but whenever he catches Deadpool following his trail or trying to lure him over with food…
Peter’s mouth begins to water, breathing growing heavy. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and shakes his head, trying to dispel the strange thought. He can hardly discern what the feeling is other than he wants Deadpool and all those other people to…to what?
…It almost feels like he wants them to prove themselves somehow.
Peter stares at the brick wall beside him, blinking sluggishly. He needs to get home before he starts thinking other weird things.
He’ll just wear his civilian clothes over his suit and get cleaned up at home. Hopefully no one saw him crash land here…. Peter looked down to the backpack in his hand, but paused.
His backpack was currently laying on the ground, clothes spilled from it. When did he drop it?
Peter stared down at it numbly, confused. His mind felt fuzzy and not quite there, so his mind wandered without any real focus. He pressed a hand to his forehead and let out a noise of discomfort, arm stretching out to rest on the wall nearby.
As he leant his weight into it, his hand never found the wall. He fell over and crumpled to the ground, landing on his side. He stared out into the air, blinking rapidly.
Oh. Was Peter in shock?
Peter gathered his strength and slid his arm down to his side, flinching when a sharp pain seared where he touched. He sucked in a shuddering gasp, body seizing momentarily. The pain woke him up enough for Peter to drag himself into a sitting position against the wall. He raised his arm a little and looked down, fearing the damage.
There was a large open wound on his side. He must have gotten it during his fight with Green Goblin. There was a lot going on, and he was already running on low when he ran into Harry. The whole fight was a blur. Burning building, multiple stories, bombs, etc. He was focused on fighting Green Goblin, but there was so much shrapnel and parts from the building coming down. It didn’t help that Peter was painfully aware of the fact that he was low on web fluid, and that he was being more reckless than usual.
It was almost disappointing when Peter finally wore him down enough to web him up. In fact, Peter almost felt angry by it.
“...What is going on?” Peter groans, head swimming.
There was so much going on, and something must have slid under his radar.
He pressed his hand down onto the wound, a choked whine coming from the back of his throat. He bumps his head back against the wall and groans. Okay. He’ll just web it up, and he can go home. He’ll probably have to stay in bed for a couple of days, but he’ll be fine by the end of the week. There’s no need to panic.
Peter shakily aims his wrist towards the wound, readying himself for the pain that’ll surely follow. However, it never comes. His web shooters, both of them, click emptily. Crap. Okay, not ideal but it’s still fine. He just has to go home and stitch it up, then.
When Peter tries to haul himself up, he finds to his own increasing panic that he can no longer do so. He’s too weak too. He lets out a grunt as he sticks his hand to the wall and tries to rise, but his arm trembles and he loses grip before sliding back down the wall and onto his ass once more.
Peter pants, squeezing his eyes shut.
This can’t be it.
What can he do? Peter stares out into the air, his mind running and not at the same time. He can’t call the cops. Just then, there’s a buzz in his pocket. He slowly fumbles with freeing his phone before sliding it into his lap and unlocking it, alarm running through him when he smears blood on the screen.
He swallows and ignores the shakiness of his hands. He clicks on his notifications and squints through his increasingly blurry vision, waiting for it to come back into focus.
Heyyyy Spidey its ur favorite person in the whole wide world…
ME!!! <3 <3 <3
(Deadpool)
I borrowed Ironrod’s contact list and I just couldnt believe my fucking eyes when I saw ur number
Anyways hope you arent mad at me
I have some tacos I just bought for two people and I thoooought that maybe we could share
Then even perhaps go on a little team up afterwards
Peter blinks slowly, hardly able to find the mental strength to read anything on the screen after a few lines of text. Deadpool, huh… Not the first person Peter would have chosen, but Peter is losing strength fast. While he’s still able to, Peter sends his location and hits the call button. Thankfully, Wade picks up on the first ring.
“Spidey! You hardly ever call, it’s a nice surprise. And by hardly I mean ever.” Wade chimes in, the casual manner feeling odd in this situation. “You didn’t get hacked, right? Also, odd place to meet up at, but that’s fine-”
“Deadpool…” Peter speaks, his voice slurred and rough.
Wade goes quiet for a moment. “...Spidey? What happened?”
Peter can hear shuffling on the other side of the line. It sounds like Wade is walking.
“...’s bad.” Peter mumbles, head bobbing. “I jus’ wanted to…”
To what? Why didn’t he call Aunt May? Was it just because Deadpool messaged him? Or was it that… Oh, right, he wanted Deadpool to come save him. Wade is far away, though, isn’t he? Who knows where the mercenary is in the city right now. What are the chances that Wade would get to him before he bled out?
“...I don’t know…” Peter rasps out, a tear sliding down his cheek. “I think ‘m gunna die…”
“Don’t talk like that, Spidey.” Wade says hurriedly, a bit of edge to his voice now. He sounds like he’s moving around a lot. “I’m coming to get you, okay? Just stay there.”
Peter manages a small laugh. “M’not goin… anywhere…”
“Keep talking, okay? I’ll be there soon. Just keep talking.” The sound of a door slams open on the other line.
“Abou’ what…?”
“About your day. How did it start?”
Peter blinks slowly, straining to remember. “I t’a s’wer…”
“What was that? Spidey, you need to wake up a little.” Wade lets out a laugh, but it sounds nervous.
The sound of Wade’s tone made Peter feel guilty, so he tried to find the energy to speak more clearly. He felt so tired, though.
Then, he heard a gasp. Peter blinked slowly before looking in that direction, eyes widening a fraction when he saw several people at the mouth of the alley. A woman had a hand over her mouth, watching Peter with shock.
Peter ducked his head, rolling it to face away from them. This isn’t ideal.
“He’s-” The woman started. “Help! Spiderman needs help!” She yelled, and Peter cringed.
Suddenly, the alley flooded with people. Someone crouched in front of Peter, hands hovering. “Oh, fuck.” He spoke, voice thin. “Spiderman? Are you okay?”
Peter wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. All that came from his mouth was a soft moan.
“What happened to him?”
“It was on the news earlier, he was in a fight with Green Goblin. It didn’t look like he was hurt…”
“Hey, that guy’s taking photos!”
Suddenly, it was chaos. People were yelling, and Peter’s senses were going wild. He gathered enough strength to place a hand over his face, taking nearly all his strength to.
“Move! I’m a paramedic!” Someone called, pushing through the crowd. A man stepped in front of Peter and grabbed the shirt from Peter’s bag, pressing it over his wound. Peter keened and slammed his head back against the wall, cracking the brick.
People quickly shut up, all eyes on him.
“Shhhit.” Peter cursed, head spinning from the pain.
“He looks so young.” Someone said quietly from the crowd.
Peter opened his eyes, looking at the person in front of him. He looked to be in his early 30’s. To Peter’s relief, it was an off duty paramedic.
“Someone call 911, I have to keep pressure.” He looked over his shoulder at someone.
Alarms blared in Peter’s mind. He shook his head and groaned. “No… No hospital…”
“I’m sorry, Spiderman, but I’m not going to let you die.” He spoke calmly, but sternly.
…Why did Peter feel angry at this man suddenly? He was so weak looking, and Peter felt the urge to lunge at him. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to act on his current emotions.
“D’pools comin…” Peter slid his hands up over his face and stuck them there, partly to conceal his identity, and partly to make sure he doesn’t do anything he’ll regret. “M’ fine…”
“Get everyone out of the alley, give Spiderman his privacy.” The paramedic said, looking towards everyone.
“Here!” Someone called from the crowd and threw a hat in. The medic caught it and fastened it over Peter's head, tipping the brim down.
Peter wanted to get up, but he couldn't. He began to lull in and out of consciousness. Before he knew it, he was being brought up onto a stretcher. It was over for him. He doesn't know what’ll happen to him next.
Distantly, he heard someone talking about confiscating phones.
Just as they were loading him up, Peter's Spidey sense went off. A second later, a couple shots were popped off. Everyone gasped and ducked, but slowly rose when they saw who it was.
“Alright, what the hell is happening?” A familiar voice said from above. Peter looked up, spotting the blurry image of Deadpool sat above on a rooftop in the alley, looking down at the scene.
Peter let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. He watched the mercenary closely, eyes oddly glued to him despite his weak state. Strangely, viewing Wade on top of that roof, carrying himself with such confidence and power…Peter found it almost impossible to look away.
“Please don't interfere.” One of the medics carrying the stretcher said. “We have it from here, and we need to act fast.”
Deadpool hops down and points his gun towards the medics. Shocked gasps usher through the crowd as people duck and dart around the mouth of the alleyway to leave his sights.
“Put him down, I won't ask twice.” Deadpool walks forward, glancing down at Peter. He does a double take when he sees him without a mask. He looks around the alley, spotting his mask not too far away.
“Do you want Spiderman to die?” The medic asks, standing his ground.
“He won't. Now fucking hurry and put him down.”
Peter felt ice hot flashes wreck through him as his healing factor tried to rapidly heal the wound at his side. He gasped sharply, the pain making his vision go white. His body must think he’s dying, and it’s doing some last ditch effort to…
Oh.
He was dying.
Peter always kind of knew deep down that this job would lead to his death. He just never knew it’d be so awful when he got to it. Help is so close, but he can’t save him. Suddenly, he isn’t worried about people seeing his face. All he wants is to be held as he goes. It's an odd feeling, wanting to be comforted. He hasn't felt like that since he was young.
…He wanted Deadpool to prove himself and save him.
That was the last thought he had before everything went dark.
*
Slowly, his eyes began to open. He heard the small whirl and click of the lenses of his mask mimic his focal point. He blinked sluggishly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Above him, there was a poster of the golden girls taped to the ceiling. When he breathed in, the smell of gunpowder and something undefinable filled his nose.
When he took a deep breath in, he immediately regretted it as pain pulsed through his skin, causing his hands to tremble. He suddenly became overwhelmed with the urge to puke. Peter rolled onto his side and pulled his mask up over his nose just in time to empty his guts out onto the floor beside the bed. Well, mostly stomach acid.
He let out a breathy groan, laying half-off of the bed. What is happening? Where is he?
The sound of heavy boots against the hardwood floor approached quickly, and soon there was a hand on his shoulder. He was rolled back over onto his back, and Peter quickly pieced together what was going on soon after.
Deadpool was leaning over him, his mask off. Peter almost died. Or maybe is still in the process of dying, he’s not too certain yet. Either way, he’s happy to see Wade.
“Oh thank god.” Wade mumbled to himself before grabbing a rag off of the table stand. He wiped at Peter’s mouth for him before tossing it away. “Are you with me? Spidey?”
“How many people saw?” Peter asked, sounding raspy.
“None, and you can thank yours truly…” Wade did a little bow. “Your knight in shining leather armor.”
Peter stared up at him, not sure if he could believe him or not.
Eventually, Wade broke the awkward silence between them, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it over. “You should probably get some liquids in you…seeing as some just left.”
Something deep inside Peter purrs at the offering, eyeing the bottle. He reaches out and grabs it, uncapping the lid and bringing it to his lips…only for something odd to bump into the rim. Peter’s eyebrows furrow, pulling away the bottle and licking at his teeth.
Wade was staring quite a lot now. “...Sooo, have you, like, always had fangs? Super hot, bee-tee-dubz.”
“...What?” Peter rasps out, eyebrows furrowing. Fangs?
“Your fangs.” Wade points like it's obvious. “The cute ones sticking out of your mouth. If you ever need somewhere to stick them, just say the word, baby boy.”
Peter prodded at the incisors with his fingers, a dull alarm coursing through him. What’s even worse, though, is the fact that Wade’s offer is insatiably tempting. Peter shuts his mouth and looks away, feeling guilty for just thinking it.
Something is happening to him, and it’s making him dangerous… Peter needs to get to the bottom of this and quick before he does something he’ll regret for the rest of his life.
“...Deadpool?” Peter speaks softly, eyebrows furrowed.
“Hm?” Wade perks up, stepping closer. “Yes? What is it?”
“...I…I need a favor.” Peter rasps out.