Deadpool Syndrome - A Marvel Fanfic

Chapter 9 - There's A Maniac Out In Front Of Me

***PETER***

It’s going to be a quick hop back to San Castiel, if the impossibly short travel time to New York is any indication. While we’re in the air, I lock myself in the bathroom while I put the Spider-Man suit on for the first time. Well, not really the first time, since I remember wearing it before. But it’ll be the first time since I started my new life. It’s funny how I still don’t have any memories of having even left - unless those were wiped too cleanly to recover. Or maybe the movies just can’t help me recover everything I’ve lost.

But even knowing that I’ve worn the suit before doesn’t adequately prepare me for one thing - it’s not at all comfortable. Hell, before I put it on, it looked so small that I didn’t even think I’d be able to fit my arms or legs (or any other part of me, really) into it. Then again, in the movies, it’s kind of implied that Spider-Man...no, strike that - that I wear the suit under my regular clothes all the time when I’m out in public. Which I guess makes sense - who knows when I might need to spring into action? Still, though, to think I’d go around wearing that tight spandex all the time...I feel like it’s trying to crush my balls into oblivion, among other attacks on my circulation. And then there’s the mask. It’s made of the same material, which doesn’t breathe all that well. So how do I expect to breathe myself when I wear it?

I’d take a deep breath before putting the mask on, but I can’t really inflate my chest too much with the suit over it. So I just take the deepest breath I can, then cover my face with the mask. I blink a few times, getting used to the slight haze caused by the white lenses. But then I can see things a bit more clearly, like what I normally see with just my contacts.

I turn to look at my reflection in the mirror. It’s so weird, knowing that I’m blinking but not being able to see it behind the mask. It makes me look non-expressive. Although I can sort of see the mask’s synthetic fabric bulge slightly when I raise my eyebrow. I guess that’ll have to do.

I take off the mask so I can get a better look at the rest of the uniform. I have to admit, even though it chafes a lot, the uniform means well in the way it hugs my body. It’s so aerodynamic. I actually based it on the uniforms worn by bike racers and the guys who do the luge, if I remember correctly. And besides, it does a much better job of showing how lean and fit I am than my street clothes do. Even though I do have a tendency to go for tighter-fitting clothes for exactly that reason, they’re still not quite as show-off-y. (Yeah, Stark, you’re right. I am a show-off. Takes one to know one, though.)

Speaking of street clothes, I put these on again over the uniform. I consider removing the top of the uniform first, because I’m wearing a short-sleeve T-shirt right now. But then I remember that before we left New York, Coulson said something about me, Gwen, Barton, and Stark picking up our bags at SFO when we arrived. Hopefully I’ll have at least one long-sleeve shirt in there. Even though it’s the middle of spring, and the weather’s getting warmer.

For now, though, I have my jacket with which to cover the sleeves of the uniform. So I decide to keep the arms and legs on, shedding the shoes and gloves. All my regular clothes manage to cover the uniform nicely, with one exception - my boxers. The one thing I don’t think I’ll ever get used to is the fact that the uniform is now my underwear, because I can’t wear anything under it for obvious reasons. I try to get around the problem by just slipping my boxers on over the uniform like I would my pants, but for some reason my fly won’t close all the way when I do. In the end, I just forego the boxers, rolling them up and sticking them in my jacket pocket. The mask and gloves go in my other pocket, but there’s really no other place for the hightop-like uniform shoes. So I just drape them over my shoulders, but then decide to carry them in my hands instead. It’ll look a bit less foolish that way, I think.