spideypool oneshots

nights melt into sequels

Summary:

Wade's used to their norm by now; he tells Spidey how nice his butt looks, and Spidey tells him where exactly he can go.

He never knew that he was supposed to prepare for the day that Spidey starts flirting back. Seriously. What the fuck?

____________

It doesn't start slowly. It starts like a fucking bag of bricks dropping right on top of his head.

He and Spidey have had an ongoing agreement for a while now; if they happen to see each other when out and about, they may pick up a burger together and choose an appealing looking rooftop to sit down and eat them side-by-side. They may give some help to one another when taking down a bad guy if they happen to stumble across the fight — a familiar scenario which normally consists of Spidey keeping Wade from going too overboard, and Wade trying to convince him to do more than just web the fuckers up. Most of the time, they banter back and forth enough to piss off the criminals at their feet and to create some sort of understanding between the two of them; a bond that could almost be described as... Friends? That is, of course, if banter includes Wade absolutely shamelessly flirting (and borderline sexually harassing) with his arachnid friend (and it totally does), then Spidey has never given a serious complaint towards it. That was their thing. Wade says, " Wow, the blue in your suit really brings out your buttcheeks," and Spidey says, " You really are a massive weirdo, " and Wade giggles like a schoolgirl. That's just how it goes between them. Again and again.

He didn't expect the fucker to start flirting with him back.

Allow poet Deadpool to set the scene for you, dear reader;

'Twas a sexy Summer eve, when all through New York,

Some fuckers were out, and not for a brisk walk.

So suited up Spidey, to deal with the worst,

And soon followed Deadpool, dick heavy with thirst.

He'll take his Nobel Prize for Literature when he manages to wrap his head around the inner workings of Spider-man's mind.

It is warm though, and not even the rooftops provide a breezy escape to the July humidity that comes with living in a city like this. He kicks his legs back and forth as he watches Spidey web a guy against a dumpster and give the purse he had back to the woman standing nearby. She thanks him fervently and even gives him a kiss on his masked cheek, the lucky broad, before she runs out of the alleyway and back to the totally safe populated areas of Manhattan. Wade debates clapping and cheering Spidey on from the rooftop, but he's already told him off once tonight for pulling a gun on the man for daring to put his hands on Spidey's arm (because come on, seriously!), so Wade assumes that he's not in the most lenient of moods.

Instead, he just waits for him to thwip himself back up. Which he does, after giving the guy down there a good talking to. Wade watches his steady stance turn into pacing on the rooftop, gloved fingers tapping out distracted patterns against his chin.

"Permission to talk?" Wade says, holding up a dutiful hand. Spider-man doesn't bother to respond. Wade continues, "I would like to formally apologise, Webs, I honestly have no idea how my gun ended up in my hand! I swear, I didn't even bring one with me. It just appeared!"

"Shut up," is the answer that he gets in return.

"Oh, can you say that again? But— But put more oomph into it, please. It makes me feel all tingly."

Spider-man stops pacing, simply staring out at the skyline. With the sun starting to set, Wade thinks — and then promptly says to him, "Stay right there. I could put this on a postcard and get millions," and then makes a sound that... sort of resembles a camera shutter.