This is Going to End in Disaster

"Let me show you what a real mans' got!"

Have you ever heard of the white bear experiment?

Some psychologist came up with it years ago: he instructed a group of people to talk about their thoughts for 5 whole minutes, about anything that came to mind, so long as it wasn't a white bear. And if they thought of a white bear, even once, they had to ring a bell.

Well, it just so happens the participants ended up thinking about a white bear at least once a minute throughout the experiment.

They were so focused on not thinking of a white bear, that a white bear became all they could think about.

Peter Parker was Wade's white bear. Or my accurately, the word "heartmate" did, and it just so happened to be in conjunction to "Peter Parker," so they were practically the same thing. No matter how much Wade tried to get that whole fiasco out of his head, the more he insisted it go away, the more it pushed to the forefront of his thoughts.

The voices weren't helping either. They were constant stream of thoughts, opinions, and observations about his every interaction with Parker, and how they were be connected, and whether or not this was all a load of garbage.

Wade didn't want Peter Parker in his head, or in his thoughts, or in his life. Ever since coming home, he's made it his mission to avoid all mention of the other man, and dutifully looked away whenever he flashed on TV or showed up in a magazine. Which is why Wade didn't understand why he was staring him, throwing pieces of French fries at those perfectly straight, pearly teeth that were probably photoshopped. He hurled another fry at the billboard, hitting the giant Peter Parker cutout right above the lip, like a soggy potato mustache.

Who did this guy think he was? What made him so special? Heartmates with Deadpool? Yeah right. They had nothing in common.

Except you both murder people, one of the voices piped up.

"We don't know that yet."

You both put on a show of being good and pure hearted when you're actually garbage pieces of shit.

"Well fuck you very much too," Wade hurled yet another fry. This one hit Parker's bottom lip. "A guy can't have a checkered past now? There's such thing as character growth, and I'm chalk full of it. I'm so full of character growths, I should go to the hospital for all the growths I'm getting."

Growths is right, you saucy piece of chewed meat. But we all know people THAT rich have to step on a lot of heads to get where they are. Parker has to have bodies in the closet, and we're supposed to find out just how bad they are, and just how much blood we need to spill.

Wade flung another fry violently, this time hitting Parker right in his perfect teeth.

"Whoa there," a voice said, this one not in his head, as it swung up from behind him, "At this rate, you won't have any food left, and that would be such a waste."

"Aye, Spidey!" Wade beamed, scooting to the side to make room for the other man, who graciously took a seat next to Wade on the building ledge he'd claimed as his own. "Where've you been? Haven't seen you since we were tit-to-tit in the dark dimension. How've you been?"

"You know, I've been trying not think about that, and now I have to start all over again."

"You wouldn't be the only one with that problem today."

Spider-Man hummed, tilting his head to the side, taking in Wade's masterpiece. "So do you want to tell me why you're defacing a Parker Industries billboard, or are you going to make me guess."