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Sleeping is for the weak

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If someone would had told him that throughout his entire superhero charade he would had to deal with all this villain cliché shit, well, he would had shrugged and accepted. Because at least then he would be away from the crap life (apart from Gwen and aunt May) that he had.

But if someone would had told him that he would have to deal with the shitfest that was Deadpool, well, he would had laughed and said “No one could be that crazy.” And yeah, it was only right that he would be wrong. Life treated him that way.


He really really wished he hadn’t been wrong. Then life wouldn’t had handed this person in his life. Huh, was he a part of his life?

“Are you monologuing to the reader right now?”

Maybe if he turned away, ignored him, then the assassin would disappear. It would certainly be a step in the good direction for how crap this week had been. First,-

“You're hurting my feelingssss.”

-it had been a crap week at work. He had gotten in a fight with Ha- Green Goblin (and god, did that one still hurt) earning him a few broken ribs and a concussion. His healing factor could only do so much so quickly, so he had passed out and missed giving in his work assignment to his job. Which resulted in him getting an earful from his boss. And that had only been Monday. Tuesday had been less annoying but still tiresome with him stopping a few muggings and getting stabbed in the abdomen when he had been slow to react. Nevertheless, Gwen was still ignoring his calls because he hadn’t told her (he was trying, really he was). And now it was Wednesday, and here he was. With Deadpool. Which never went anywhere good.

“This is rude. I'm not rude with you. I mean, sure I tried to slice and dice you only a month ago-”

“That was two weeks ago!” Spiderman snaps, sending a glare at Deadpool before he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. If anything, the response only made Deadpool grin under his mask and Spiderman was already regretting not leaving when he had the chance.

“Are you going to ask?” Deadpool asks, waiting. The lines of the grin are still etched along his mask and he has his arms crossed over his che-

“Where’s your other hand?” Spiderman asks before he can stop himself and dammit, he was so gonna regret that. But the more important note, is how had he missed that?

“Well, if you hadn’t been so busy giving the readers your attention then you would had seen my glorious hand missing.” As to make a point, he raises his arm and the cut is still fresh cause there's still blood running down and god, he’s going to throw up.

“Nah, you're not, Spidey. Sooooo ask.” Deadpool says. He looks like he's ready to jump and down on his feet and Spiderman is just filled with regret at this point so he huffs and says in the most bored voice that he can muster, “Why is your han- can you put it down - where is your hand, dude?”

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Perfect question my small arachnid! So glad you asked-”

“You practically begged me to-”

-I really do appreciate the question. Although it’s rude cutting me off. Didn't your parents teach you manners?” His voice is teasing, and he doesn't react when Spiderman flinches. If anything, he continues like he hadn’t just talked about his parents. Did he even know? Did he know that his parents had been ki-

“Oh my gooooood,” Deadpool practically whines and it brings Spiderman back to the present and he releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. “Stop ignoring me, Spideyyy. I’m trying to ask you to look for my hand to start the scavenger hunt.”

Wait, what?

“The scavenger hunt.” Deadpool is saying slowly and Spiderman tries his best to not flip the idiot off. He doesn't bother questioning the shit Deadpool does anymore. For the simple fact that he never made sense. Although, sometimes it was hella freaky when he pulled those mind reading moments. “What scavenger hunt, Deadpool?” Spiderman asks and his voice is borderline exasperated.

Deadpool ignores that instead and grins again like he's won something. What, though, Spiderman doesn't want to know.

“Alright Spidey,” He starts, “I’ve got an awesome scavenger hunt planned for you in which it all starts with finding my hand. The clue’s in it and it's in the first place we met!”

“Why?” Spiderman deadpanned.

“What?” That question does get a response from Deadpool and his eyes are wide like he hadn't expected his plan to be questioned.

“Why are you sending me on a scavenger hunt? Wait, did yo- did you cut off your own hand for that!?” And really, he shouldn't care but he...does? Honestly, who cuts off his own hand for something stupid like this?

Deadpool is still staring at him and his mouth is opening and closing like some fish (ha,Deadfish. Oh he needed sleep). “No?” His voice is pitched high, “Whaaat? I didn't- Me? Cut off my hand? For what? Huh? A scavenger hunt?” He’s laughing now and now, Spiderman is intrigued because he’s never seen Deadpool act like this. “Dudeeee, it was just Wolverine, ya know? We do this every once in awhile. He cuts off my hand, calls me Bub and I get a good ‘ol laugh which obviously we know who's getting more out of that relationship. I just wished he would declare his love for me then cut off my hand. So weird. Like a scavenger hunt. Ororor no-not a scavenger hu- Ha! Joke! You’ve been pooled! Does that even sound right, reader? No, no it doesn't-”

It's kind of sad that this happens to be the most amusing thing that’s happened for Spiderman in a while. Nevertheless, this is great and now he’s just regretting not having a video camera. A spidermera? A spidey cam? Yeah, spidey cam sounded better-

“-And I say good day to you, sir!”


“Good day!” That’s how Deadpool finishes his rambling and then he's jumping off the side of the building and he’s gone. Although, Spiderman is pretty sure he hears a big thud but he's too tired to care anymore. He just shakes his head, shoots a sling of webbing to the nearest building and is off-ready to go home and sleep.

He can't help wondering, though, if he should had still looked for the hand.


He sleeps only for an hour when a nightmare decides to say screw your sleep and he's awake for the rest of the night. He decides that he won't go patrolling because let's face it, he's better off at home then out there. Plus, he was tired. Here, at home, he was just Peter. And even if Spiderman made things easier, or not, sometimes it was just okay to pretend to be normal, to let go, to feel alon-

There’s racket on his roof and he’s automatically clambering up from his bed. What the hell? “Aunt May?” He calls out, and there's no response. “Aunt May? You out there?” He tries again and it's quiet which meant she wasn’t home. Which was good cause whoever the hell is making noise up on his roof can't be anything goo-

“Spidey?” The voice is muffled but there’s no mistaking that voice and Peter just groans letting his head fall onto his hands.

Why was he here?!

His head shoots up. Here. He’s here. His home. And he’s not suited up. Peter is already rushing to his closet, scrambling about for his suit or at least the spare. But he can't find it and Deadpool was going to see him. Was going to know who he was. Was going to know about his Aunt May. And Gwen and-and-

“Woah Spidey! Breathe!” Someone is saying to him, grabbing him by his shoulder. It's probably Deadpool, but he can't focus on that; not right now. Not when he's about to be found out, when everything he worked so hard for to protect -to hide- was just going to- to- and he can't breathe. His head is whirling and his lungs are expanding but there's nothing getting to it and- and there's lips on his own. Lips- Deadpool’s lips. And- and he's moving away, parting from him and Peter finally breathes and his lungs feel relieved at receiving air. He can feel his body shaking slightly and he’s staring at Deadpool. Or at the man’s lips. The mask is covering everything but his nose and down. There’s burns (are they burns?) adjoining that part of his face but Peter cares little about that. His mind is a little too busy focusing on the fact that Deadpool kissed him.

As if he can hear his thoughts, he probably can, Deadpool pulls down the mask and is already moving backwards. “Uh, I, uh read somewhere or heard that kissing helps shock the body back when it's having a panic attack. So.” He’s by the window now and Peter is still staring at him. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out and Deadpool takes that as his cue to leave. He's out the window before Peter can blink and then he's stopping staring back at him.

There's a minute of silence and he says, “I had my eyes close the entire time.” And then he’s gone.


The rest of the thursday is nothing as a eventful as the morning was. It was boring as hell and aside from the fact that Gwen finally called and decided to take up his offer on lunch, nothing else pretty much happened. After Deadpool had left, Peter had practically stayed on the floor reeling about the fact that he probably hadn't seen him but he had been there when he got a panic attack and then that was outright embarrassing. How was he supposed to face him now? Especially about the not kiss that was an actual kiss but not a real kiss and a convenience kiss. Not that he wanted a real kiss. He didn't like him like that; he didn't even like dudes. Sure, he's checked out others before but hey, looking doesn't mean anything, right? Ugh, his head hurt.

He decided to push that all aside as he walked into his and Gwen’s usual coffee spot. It was never super crowded and it had a calm atmosphere. Which hey, calm is definitely something he needed these days. Gwen was already waiting for him at a table near the window and he smiled. She always knew him best. “So,” he says sliding into his seat and dropping his bag on his side of the table as soon as he reaches the table. “Not mad at me anymore?” He grins sheepishly and she finally glances from her laptop to stare at him.

“Depends.” She says.

“On?” Peter questions trying to steal a piece of her half eaten danish.

She arches a delicate brow at his actions and then she rolls her eyes, and pushes the danish towards him. Yup, Peter really loved her. “On you keeping things from me again.” She says as he bites into the danish.

He stares at her, chewing slowly and she's staring right back at him. Before he can (lie) say something about how he would never do it again, she's already saying “You're doing it right now.”

“Wfhat?” He says mouth still full and he swallows what he's already chewed. She's glaring at him already. “You're unbelievable, Petey. You were just about to hold,” She takes a breath steadying her voice. “You were just going to do it again.”

Peter doesn't say anything and continues to stare, not really sure on what to say. That only infuriates her more and she shuts her laptop with a loud plop. “I told you I wanted to help. I told you I wanted to be there but you won't let me in. And I don’t know what else to do.” She's angrily shoving her stuff in her bag, not looking at him once and Peter feels his heart getting louder by the second. There's a headache definitely coming around, but he's too busy staring at how she's fussily trying to leave. To get away. From him.

“And I can't anymore. What am I supposed to do the day I find out you're gone. Because you didn't tell me and I couldn't help you. What? I just, I won't hold myself responsible for that. I just,” It's getting hard for him to breathe again, and his damn mouth won't work. “I just can't.” She finishes in a small voice. She's looking at him with wet eyes. In a beat, when she doesn't get a response, she shakes her head and gets up to leave.

He reacts out of instinct, grabbing at her hand and his mouth (his stupid and traitorous mouth) says, “Deadpool kissed me.”

She stops and stares, blinking in surprise. They don't say anything and for a moment, he had forgot they were in public. He just couldn't let her go. She was his world; his rock. She kept him steady when he couldn't go on anymore and he just, he wouldn't be able to continue if he didn't have her. Not now. Probably not ever.

It was only after one of the workers walked up and asked if there was a problem, that the two remembered where they were. “No problem, thank you.” Gwen replied giving the worker a small smiled and when he walked away, she sighed and sat back in her seat. He was still holding her hand. “Okay, so, this uh person kissed you?” She asked and Peter nodded, suddenly feeling his lips dry. He wanted to talk really and except for the outburst, he just couldn't make it happen. “Why? I thought he didn’t like you. Wasn't he the one who hurt you three days ago?” She continued and Peter could feel the lump in his throat. No, that was Harry, he wanted to say but it hurt too much. Instead he shook his head and she seemed satisfied with that answer although it really wasn't an answer. She nods, turning her hand in his hold and giving it a tight reassuring squeeze. He waits for her to ask another question, waits for her to release his hand and realize that this wasn't worth it and leave. She smiles at him and says, “Let’s go buy some real food to eat.”

She doesn't push it anymore.

Peter owes her the world.


It's one in the morning when he returns home after patrolling. Nothing happened. Not one burglary, not one mugging (no Deadpool) - nothing. It leaves a ball of uncertainty in his gut but he tries not to mull over it too much. This week has been emotionally and physically draining enough and all he really wants is (and deserves if he says so himself) some sleep.

He doesn't get it.

There's another nightmare as soon as he’s fallen asleep - one with Gwen- and it leaves him wrecked and nearly sobbing.

His aunt May is there this time and she walks in just as he’s curled up in the bed. She takes one glance at him and is immediately by his bedside, curling protectively by his side and rubbing his back affectionately. She thinks it's about his family. About his parents; about Uncle Ben.

It hasn't been about them for a long time.


He passes out from exhaustion around five and doesn't wake up until it's well into the afternoon.

“Oh shit,” He says as soon as his vision focuses and he sees that it's 2:34. He's out of his bed in seconds and flailing about to get some clothes on. “Aunt May! Why didn't you wake me up?!” He shouts and then he's falling face front to the floor cause he lost his balance while putting on his shoe.

Oh god.

He needed to get it together. How was he supposed to fight crime when he couldn't even put on his shoes without toppling over?

“Aunt May?” He calls again and gets no response. The ball of uncertainty is there again and his senses are flaring up. He doesn’t stop running until he’s in the kitchen, forgetting he’s not suited. His aunt isn’t anywhere around and Watch out, his senses scream at him and he’s ducking in time to miss the sharp blade that was aimed for his head. He stands up from his cover as he hears cackling and there’s Harry, Green Goblin, and- and he’s holding his aunt May in a chokehold. Her eyes are wide and she’s staring at him trying to speak, but all there is the sound of her gasping for air and clawing at the hold.

“Let her go! Harry, let her go!” He’s shouting and his senses are going so haywire he feels like his head is about to explode. Whatever it is that he said pisses the Goblin off and he's tightening his hold on her throat. He probably says something else, but Peter isn’t paying attention. His mind is racing, too busy thinking on what to do. He needed to attack but he wasn’t suit. But this, this was his aunt May. And there was so much wrong with this situation. He needed to save her, but if he outed himself, made himself known to her as who he was, he wasn’t saving her. He was going to get her killed, taken away from him because he couldn’t even save he-

There’s an explosion and the Green Goblin is shrieking, dropping aunt May to the floor gasping for air. Whatever it was that exploded had hit him in the face and it had taken him out for a few seconds. Peter doesn’t think, doesn’t care who it is because aunt May is alive - and he’s running to her side checking on her. There are tears on her face but she’s pulling him in a hug before he can fully check up on her.

“See? That’s why we do bombs, voices and reader. They got a certain charm to them you know. Like exploding ugly creepy adult sized gremlins and stopped them from killing- oh he’s looking at me? Yo, gremlin the last time someone looked at me like we ended up ruining my bed.” Deadpool is there, Peter registers and he tenses staring up at the assassin-

“Ex-assassin, my dear little arachnid.”

And, and that just makes him burst out laughing. He’s pretty sure he’s lost it but it doesn’t stop him. It startles everyone in the room. Even harr- Green Goblin is staring at him like he’s lost his damn mind. And shit, he really fucking did. Because thank god, thank god Deadpool existed. That he was part of life. He wouldn’t want it any other way.

“As much as your laugh is music to my ears, I gotta get rid of this ugly gremlin - the spider formula was not kind to you- so if you would kindly-” He dodges just as Green Goblin tries to attack with his blades. “Get the hell out of here. That would be great.”

Peter is already ushering Aunt May out just as Deadpool turns to stop an attack with his blades. His aunt ends up grabbing his hand and doesn’t let go, not even when they’re outside or not even when they’re down the block away from the mess Deadpool and Green Goblin are making of their home. He should have told Deadpool not to hurt him; it had been his fault what happened to Harry. He should had said anything.

“Petey, sweety, please don’t go.” His aunt is pleading to him and he realizes that he’s been pulling his hand trying to get out of her to hold to go help (to stop Harry, save him from himself). He takes one glance at her, sees how the tears are still going (they never stopped) and he decides then and there that maybe he’ll let Deadpool handle this.

He’ll trust him too. It was his only choice.


The fight is over before the cops are there (nothing new, he’s really beginning to think the NYPD are arriving tardy on purpose now) and Deadpool is whistling like he doesn’t have a bleeding wound in the middle of his torso. He’s got one of his swords on his shoulder and he’s letting the cops take Green Goblin and cuff him.

Gwen had arrived sometime before the cops, hugging tightly onto the both of them until Peter began twitching uncomfortably. Then she ignored him and gave her full attention to his aunt. I told you this isn’t a game, he wants to say to her - wants her to look closely at the mark of Ha- the Goblin’s hand on his aunt’s throat. He must be staring intently at her because she meets her gaze and there’s understanding in there but it's firm, and he knows. Knows she’s never going to leave him. Peter doesn’t deserve her, really.

He nods at her and gets up to move towards where Deadpool is standing. If Peter didn’t know any better, it looked like Deadpool was being hesitant.

Peter opens his mouth to say something but Deadpool blurts out, “I had my eyes open!” before he can say anything.

A beat. Peter blinks. “What?”

“I mean, I didn’t have my eyes open before which was a bitch and a half to get to you, you know. Tripped over your bag and your old retro computer. And I definitely wasn’t stalking you. Sometimes I did before, but that was for battle you know? Fighting- all that good stuff. But I was here-” Deadpool stops abruptly and then he’s trying to make some weird motions with his hands. And that gets Peter even more curious. Deadpool being shy? Ridiculous.

“Actually, ding ding ding there. You hit my curious spot. Why were you here?” He asks and he gets even more amused as Deadpool splutters and then he’s coughing an Ahem.

“I don’t believe I ever told you this, but I’m psychic. I know, I know. Hold your round of applause, I’m only a modest man. I saw the green gremlin attacking your aunt and you know, I had to save her as the knight in shining armour.” Deadpool is rambling again and Peter all but rolls his eyes. Instead he says, “Deadpool, why?” And he doesn’t mean to have his voice sound all tired, but it does and that wins because Deadpool is suddenly quiet for a moment and then,

“I wanted to apologize.”

And that is not what Peter had expected.

“I weirded you out with the scavenger hunt, and I know I’m weird so like that's not a big deal but then I thought that ruined my chances of, uh, totally asking you out. Like a bro, bro out -no homo- but then i ended up freaking you the hell out and you had a panic attack cause of me so I figured I apologized but me and the voices weren’t figuring out how to do it and-”

And Peter kisses him.


It’s a stupid, out of character thing that he does because, duh, Deadpool is wearing a stupid mask.

And his aunt May and Gwen were literally right behind them probably seeing this.

He chalks it up to the fact that he hasn’t slept properly in the past 72 hours (but that was a crappy excuse anyways). Peter moves away, and wrinkles his nose licking his lips and bleh, taste like nylon (no shit, myself).

Deadpool is completely frozen and Peter arches a brow and then smiles, “I finally got Deadpool to shut up. I think now they might let me in the Avengers.”

It earns a grin from ex-assassin and it only gets bigger as he says, “Soooooo, way homo?”

Peter is so going to regret this.

(He really isn’t.)


“Hey, Wade,” Peter says and he likes the name on his lips, finds himself enjoying saying it.

The man in question turns to him. His mask is still on but it's pulled up so that his nose and lips are visible. He’s not comfortable yet enough to show himself completely and Peter is fine with that. He can wait.

“What’s up, my Petekums? Okay, I heard it. Not a good nickname. I’ll work on it.”

Peter rolls his eyes and leans further onto the brick wall behind him. “I’m kind of curious about what the scavenger hunt was. What was it?” He asks and Wade is grinning like he’s hit the jackpot.

“I can’t spoil it! Only if you do it.”

Peter sighs and then thinks what the hell, “Okay fine. I could have some fun.”

And Wade is moving and Peter remembers and scrambles after his boyfriend.

“Don’t cut off your damn hand, Wade!”