Chapter Text
Peter shifts his feet in the grass, pushing and pulling the blades as he moves. His legs are too long to be in this swing. He sighs heavily. This is one thing, the one thing, that he never thought he'd be doing. In fact, it hadn't even occurred to him. But he has $247 in his hoodie pocket that crinkles when he swings and he's waiting on someone he's usually glad doesn't show up. Deadpool. [This is a huge risk.] he thinks to himself. [What if he recognizes my voice?]
It's too late to back out, he realizes when he sees the all too familiar red and black silhouette approaching him. Deadpool dusts the seat of the swing off, sits down, kicks his feet out, and speaks "Spidey's not gonna like this."
Peter snorts, "I wasn't planning on telling him."
If Deadpool recognizes him, he doesn't say so. "Oooh, you're going on the naughty list this Christmas, Peter Parker."
"You're Santa? I feel like my childhood's getting ruined all over again." Peter digs his heels into the ground. This was a bad idea. His worst, maybe. "Aren't you curious why you're here?"
Deadpool shrugs, which Peter barely catches because the merc is whooshing past him, swinging hard enough to make the frame creak. "I know why I'm here." He catches himself on the ground with his feet and skids to a stop beside Peter. "To service you." There's a lilt in his voice and Peter imagines the eyebrow waggle he's sure is happening behind the mask.
Peter sighs. "I tried my best, my absolute best not to hire you." He scrubs a hand over his face. "Every conversation ended with 'look, kid, my rate's too high for you, but I know someone who-'. For someone who's an ass to the hero world, you're a hero to the ass world."
Deadpool giggles. "Ass world. My home planet, where I belong." He pushes back and swings high, "My planet needs me!~~~"
Peter laughs, despite feeling generally awful and not having slept well in weeks. He hates that Deadpool is the most common cause of him-well, Spider-Man, laughing these days. "But before you return to your planet, my life is being threatened and I'd like to deal with that." He says when Deadpool stops next to him again.
"Business, business, business. I see why you and Spidey get along." Deadpool pouts. "How many people are out for you?"
"At least six." Peter replies, "Sitting in cars outside my apartment all day in vans with tinted windows, harassing my landlord for apartment openings, going through my mail."
"And you can't get your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to help with this?" Deadpool says, sounding a bit surprised. "Seems right up his alley, especially since it's you."
"My neighbor, nice old lady who I bought groceries for a bunch of times, called the police about the vans. Yesterday she was shot in her apartment. I don't need Spider-Man, I need you." Peter trains his eyes on his shoes. The ground beneath him is torn up from his fidgeting.
"Ohhh, so you want them to be not alive." Deadpool says.
"No, I don't want that. I'm worried that's what it's coming to." He sighs again. It's become how he breathes lately. "And no one followed me here, which is a good indicator that they know exactly what I'm doing."
"You can't go home, then."
"Yeah, I kind of figured that. So, put myself up at a motel, that's-" he calculates in his head and groans. "I'm too broke to have this happening to me."
"You're gonna stay with me until this is over." Deadpool says, and Peter's eyes widen.
"No, no-no. No, no. That-that's not a good plan." Peter stammers. It's going to be hard enough keeping his identity secret just hiring Deadpool, but living with him? No way it stays secret.
"It'll be fun~ like a sleepover! You can invite Spidey if you want. The three of us could all sleep in my bed." He trails off, more mumbly, and laughs to himself in a sultry sort of tone that prompts Peter to kick his shin.
Which is a bad move, in retrospect. Peter Parker should be afraid of mercenaries, not acting like he's known the guy for years and knows he's actually a huge dork. Deadpool doesn't act like it's out of the ordinary. "He wouldn't come."
"Right, busy shoving that stick even farther up his ass and not even in a fun way!" He holds out his hand, "You sure you wanna do this?" He asks, more serious than anything he's said the entire time they've been sitting here.
"How much is this going to cost?" Peter asks wearily. He shakes the merc's hand anyway.
"Don't worry about it, we can work something out later." Peter's hand tightens on Deadpool's, half in fear for the first time that night. "Whoa, calm down- Not-not like that. Like a credit sort of deal. Bang bang now, pay later-wait, shit. We won't have sex in exchange for services." He says carefully.
Peter's face turns beet red and he lets go of the other's hand. "What-um...what now?"
"Well, now I take you somewhere safe, and I go and do what you hired me to do. Then you go home and pretend that I'm solely responsible for the dead people." Deadpool says, "I mean, I guess. I don't know what most people who hire me do after I'm done. Maybe it's more fun than I'm imagining." He shrugs.
"I need to get some things from my place." Peter says.
"Then I gotta come with you."
[Fuck.]