Chapter Text
Peter looked over from his book, and he left out a puff of a laugh, staring at the News new headline.
Spider-Man saves the day again!
He had to admit, the kid was pretty good. Of course he messed up a few times, but he remembered when he was Spider-Man. It’s been 10 years since then. Five years since he quit, finding the responsibilities too overwhelming, awakening his anxiety he thought he had control over.
Now, Peter lived in an apartment in Brooklyn. It was decent, certainly better than his last, but definitely not perfect. He managed to afford a cat as well, spotted Sphynx cat he named Gwen. She was a fussy eater, Peter spending $60 on her the first week to find out which food she liked.
Life was weird after his retirement. It was, to say the least, quiet. Strangely, there was no attacks, only reports of where he had gone. He spent 2 weeks trapped in his bedroom, terrified of what the Media had said. People speculated he was killed in his last battle, no one believed he would just leave like that. After 6 weeks, people agreed he was dead, there was a memorial held in his honour, which he attended after the majority of people had left. It broke his heart when he recognized the lingering people around. People he had saved throughout the years now sobbing over the crowd of flowers citizens had laid for him. That was when he moved, for unfortunately for him, the memorial was in view from his old apartment, and he couldn’t stand it. Yet, even after the whole ordeal, he kept his suit cooped up in the back of his closet.
So many times he thought of coming back, but the uncontrollable fear of what everyone would think. Their disappointment, anger, sadness, confusion, frustration, and their repel against his help. Aunt May sent him to therapist after his anxiety came back, and that’s when he got Gwen.
Back to the present now, he turned off the TV, tossing the remote to his side, sighing. His eyes drifted over to the large circular window, where Gwen slept on a pillow he placed for her on the windowsill. His eyes began to close slowly. A hurried knock tapped against his door.
He stared confusedly into the white hallway, just being able to see the corner of his oak door. The knocking stopped for a moment, until starting again, however this time even harder. He scurried to his feet, running towards the door. He turned the handle quickly, about to open it until a flash of red and black stormed its way into his apartment.
“Hey--- sorry I need to stay here for a few hours or so, don’t mind me!” Peter recognized the voice—The Infamous Deadpool. He and the Merc has met on many occasions, all starting off when Deadpool had accidentally dropped a chimichanga down his shirt while sat on the roof.
“You can’t just barge into here---!” He tried to scold.
“Would you rather have a chopped up body next time you opened the door?” Deadpool argued back. Peter crossed his arms with a huff, glaring at the Merc above his glasses. “Wait a moment… IT’S YOU!” He pointed an accusing finger at Peter with a loud gasp.
“Yes, yes it’s me and I guess not, you can stay here if you answer these questions--- Why my apartment? Who’s chasing you? And if they do find you, won’t I be in danger?”
“Uno: I did try the two apartments before yours but I guess no one was home! And what a quinky dink it was you!” Peter made a comment under his breathe about he probably scared them. “Dos! Some gang people I may or may not have killed the leader of. And tres! I promise that--- OH MY GOD YOU HAVE A CAT!” Peter looked down at his leg to see Gwen rubbing herself against his leg, purring softly. Deadpool rushed over to her, reaching his hands out to grab her. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“She just never came up in---” It was only when Gwen scratched his hands away Peter noticed the multiple bullet wounds across the Merc’s body.
“Oh my God! You fucking full of bullets--- Let me help you---!”
“Don’t worry baby boy!” He waved Peter off, his white eyes curling giving the impression he was smiling under his mask. “I’m fine. They’ll heal by tomorrow!” Peter looked at the wounds with concern, biting at his lip.
“Are you sure? And don’t call me that.” He said his late statement with his teeth grinding together.
“I’m sure, baby boy.” Peter could tell he was smirking behind his mask, which ignited a pinch of anger in his chest. “Now where did that cat go?”
Peter sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. After taking a relaxing breath, he stomped his way to the kitchen area, deciding that he needed coffee if Deadpool was going to be here a while. Choosing that he was going to be a good host. (No matter how much he guest annoyed him.) He wondered around the apartment, which was basically only three rooms, the hall, kitchen and lounge all connected through large archways with the bedroom and bathroom the only separate rooms. Deadpool wasn’t in the lounge, nor the hall. The bathroom door was wide open, and showed no sign of the Merc inside. He then turned his way to the last room, the bedroom. The door was creaked open, which was normally fully closed. Peter grit his teeth together, marching his way to the only place the Merc could be.
“Deadpo---?” The man in question was crouched just in front of the closet, his back facing Peter. He didn’t respond to the beginning of his name, which sparked curiosity in Peter. Maybe he had caught Gwen and was just holding her? That theory ended as soon as he thought of it, feeling the said cat rubbing against his shin. With a confused look, Peter look back up to Deadpool, and froze. The closet was wide open, clothes shuffled around, revealing a leather box that was now open. The box where he kept his suit.
Peter went to call to Deadpool again, but was cut off when he mumbled to himself.
“You’re alive…” He lifted his head up, staring into the dark closet. He got up slowly, as if he was told he was going to be a father and was just comprehending the information.
“Deadpool?…”
“You’re fucking alive!” He snapped his body to face Peter, who felt his blood freeze, seeing the Merc holding his old suit. “I thought…” Peter finally snapped out of it, marching his way towards the Merc. He snatched the item of clothing away, stuffing it back into the box. “I thought you were dead…” Peter breathed in through his nostrils, exhaling slowly through his mouth.
“Spider-Man is, however someone else has replaced him.”
“You don’t fucking understand do you?” Deadpool snarled. “We were terrified. You were gone for 6 weeks, we thought you died. That we had lost our only Superhero that had any god damn sense. Crime stopped during that time because even criminals were confused as to what happened. I searched for you day and night. For the first time in so long, I was terrified I had lost someone forever.” He grasped Peter’s shoulder, flinging him so he could stare directly into his tawny eyes. “AND THEN I FIND YOU HERE?!” Deadpool roared in his face, Peter flinching in his grasp. “You were him?! The whole fucking time?!” Peter didn’t respond to him, only casting his head downwards, refusing to meet the Merc’s gaze.
Deadpool let out a grunt, letting go of the ex-superhero’s arms. The way he eyes moved showed he was glaring.
“Who knew the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man could be so selfish?” he growled, pushing past the adult harshly. With his fists tightened, Peter finally had the words to reply.
“I didn’t make the decision just like that!” He shouted. “I stopped because I couldn’t take it anymore! I was a student, being Spider-Man was making miss out on lessons, I couldn’t get a job, I was in debt, I could barely even fucking feed myself!” He had Deadpool were staring at each other harshly now. “Quitting was the last thing I wanted to do. But now I can actually support myself. I’m no longer in debt or starving myself every week,” He growled. Deadpool’s gaze seemed to soften, but the sternness still lingered. “Not all of us worked for money…” It looked like Deadpool was about to say something, but Peter cut him off before he could. “Get out of my house.”
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Peter could barely sleep that night. He had to take sleeping pills, which he hadn’t used for 5 years, to help him. The words the Merc had yelled at him lingered in his mind, and he couldn’t stand it. Gwen stayed by the window, watching the minimal street life bellow, as if waiting for someone.
And someone did come.