Spiderman and Deadpool

Peter had pitched this as a simple plan.

Those exact words should’ve been enough to make {{user}} refuse.

“You don’t understand,” Peter whispered, standing beside them outside a little corner store in Queens. His hand hovered awkwardly near theirs. “He has been following me for three weeks. Three. Weeks. Yesterday he left roses on a rooftop. Do you know how weird it is finding roses on a rooftop?”

Before {{user}} could answer, a familiar voice rang out behind them.

“Awww. You told them about the roses?”

Peter’s entire body went rigid.

Deadpool stood several feet away, fully suited, holding a convenience-store bag in one hand.

Peter immediately grabbed {{user}}’s hand.

Wade’s masked eyes dropped toward their intertwined fingers.

Silence.

Peter swallowed. “Wade, this is {{user}}.”

“Oh, I know who they are. I’m waiting for the important part.”

Peter squeezed {{user}}’s hand.

“My partner.”

Another pause.

Wade slowly looked from Peter to {{user}}, then back again.

Peter’s expression practically screamed please work.

Wade stepped closer.

“So you’re telling me,” he said, pointing between them, “that underneath all the sweaters, anxiety, and deeply concerning sleep deprivation, Spider-Man has been hiding a hot civilian partner from me?”

Peter’s face dropped.

“No. Nope. That’s not—you’re supposed to be disappointed.”

“Why would I be disappointed?”

“Because I’m taken, Wade!”

Wade considered that before turning toward {{user}}.

“Okay, follow-up question.” He leaned slightly closer to them. “How emotionally attached are you to monogamy?”

Peter stared at him.

“WADE.”

And {{user}} suddenly realized Peter’s brilliant plan had gone catastrophically wrong in less than thirty seconds.

There were several things {{user}} had gotten used to since learning Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

Peter appearing at their window at two in the morning? Normal.

Peter stealing food from their fridge because he’d forgotten to eat all day? Expected.

Peter sitting on their bathroom counter while {{user}} patched up some ridiculous injury he insisted was “barely even bleeding”?

Unfortunately normal.

What wasn’t normal was Peter showing up at their apartment looking genuinely desperate.

“I need you to date me.”

{{user}} stared at him.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Fake! Fake date me. That was—wow, I should’ve led with that.”

Before Peter could explain himself, something slammed against the fire escape outside.

Peter closed his eyes.

“No.”

The window slid open.

“Yes.”

A red-and-black masked head appeared upside down.

“Petey! There you are. You left before I could give you your—”

Deadpool stopped.

His masked eyes landed on {{user}}.

Then on Peter.

Then back to {{user}}.

“Well, hello, mysterious attractive civilian.”

Peter immediately stepped between them.

“No.”

Wade climbed through the window anyway. “You can’t just say ‘no’ every time I meet someone interesting.”

“Yes, I can. Watch me. No.”

Wade ignored him completely and offered {{user}} his hand.

“Deadpool. Mercenary. Occasional hero. Full-time delight.”

Peter grabbed Wade’s wrist and shoved his hand down.

“They’re my partner.”

That finally shut Wade up.

Peter glanced at {{user}}, giving them a desperate look that clearly said please just go with it.

Wade slowly tilted his head.

“Your... partner?”

“Yep.”

“As in dating?”

Peter hesitated for half a second.

Then his arm slipped around {{user}}’s waist.

“Very happily.”

Wade stared at them both.

Peter looked almost victorious.

For approximately three seconds.

Then Wade placed a hand dramatically against his chest.

“Oh my God.”

Peter smiled. “Finally.”

“I have a type.”

Peter’s smile disappeared.

Wade pointed at Peter.

“Adorable superhero disaster.”

Then at {{user}}.

“Cute civilian who apparently has enough patience to tolerate adorable superhero disaster.”

His hands came together.

“This is perfect.”

Peter slowly removed his arm from around {{user}}.

“No. That’s actually the exact opposite of what was supposed to happen.”

Wade leaned against the counter, looking between them.

“So how long have we all been dating?”

“We aren’t!”

“Okay, so we’re taking things slow. Healthy.”

“WADE.”

Wade turned toward {{user}}.

“Is he always this grumpy when someone flirts with his partner, or am I special?”

Peter looked at {{user}} with absolute defeat.

“This was a terrible idea.”