Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6482656.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Deadpool_-_Fandom, spideypool_-_Fandom, spider_man_-_Fandom, Avengers,
      Marvel, spider_man_x_deadpool, stony_-_Fandom, shield_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Spideypool, Stony
  Character:
      Spider_Man, Deadpool, Tony_Stark, Steve_Rogers, Hawkeye, Hulk, Black
      Widow, Thor, Iron_Man, Captain_America_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Eventual_Smut?, Fluff, slow_buildup, Hurt/Comfort, Sad_Peter, Sad_Wade,
      Alcoholic_Tony, self_harm_Peter, Self_Harm, Suicide, super_family,
      Depression, Anxiety, Tony_and_Steve_are_Peter's_parents, Disapproving
      Parents, peter_is_16_and_Wade_is_26, Underage_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-04-07 Chapters: 5/? Words: 9904
****** Super-Freak Love (Spider Man x Deadpool) ******
by Volume_Struck
Summary
     Peter Parker has way too many problems as it is, being Spider Man and
     the son of two of the Avengers- and now, he has to deal with a
     certain psycho, armed with katanas, shitty pickup lines, and loads of
     sarcasm, following him around during his patrols. At first, it's
     annoying- but he finds himself growing fond of this man, Deadpool-
     the only person who doesn't treat him like he's made of glass all the
     time, the only person who takes him seriously, and the only person he
     feels he can trust.
     Peter finds himself slowly letting Pool into his everyday life,
     forming a fragile and unstable bond between the two of them, as they
     try to navigate the struggles of disapproving parents, depression,
     and the struggle of being a freak.
***** Chapter 1 *****
There are many things about Tony Stark that make you like him, but also want to
punch him in the face so hard that you feel all 27 bones in your hand shatter.
One of these many things, is the fact that he thinks he's a genius- and in some
ways, he is- and yet, he is so incredibly moronic when it comes to other
humans. Why? Because, he's a mechanical genius, but he seems to have forgotten
that humans are not machines. Or maybe he was never aware of it. Or maybe he is
aware, and he's just your average, overly intelligent asshole, and the whole
"he's so smart he doesn't know how to function, so it's okay, it's not his
fault, we still love him" bullshit doesn't really apply.
But, that's not what this is about. It's about a certain person who is
currently sulking because his father, aka the asshole who was previously
mentioned, is being a complete dick to his son and doesn't even know it.
This person, who he tends to misunderstand and belittle the most, would be his
16 year old son, Peter Parker. Except, unlike most people his age, it's a bit
more than "look, I'm a teenage boy, and I'm all about long, sullen silences,
followed by mean comments, followed by more sullen silences, and my dad doesn't
understand my emotions!"
It's more like, Peter is Spider Man, his parents are Tony Stark and Steve
Rogers, Tony and Steve are part of the Avengers, both parents are determined to
keep their son completely safe, and if he gets so much as a bruise they will
not hesitate to call a goddamn SWAT team, and, get this- they have no clue he's
Spider Man, and that he has been for a year now.
And if they did, they would likely kick his little spider ass into next week.
Or next decade.
Peter, who really doesn't want to know what they would do to him if they ever
found out he swings around the city in spandex (kicking ass in the process)
keeps it a secret, and intends to do so until
A) the day they find him dead in his suit because of his role as a vigilante
Or
B) when hell freezes the fuck over
So, until then, he's stuck sitting at the dinner table with the three of the
Avengers (his parents and Thor- Clint, Bruce and Natasha had work to attend
to), getting completely trash talked.
"Well, would you look who it is." Tony remarks, shaking his head disapprovingly
at the news channel, playing on the flatscreen across from the table. "The
spider-bitch himself."
Peter flinches, pausing mid-chew, before resuming, picking at his pasta
distastefully with his fork and glaring at the plate instead of his father. As
much as he would love to express his anger towards his father's opinions on his
own son, he has to keep it at a minimum to avoid suspicion. The last thing he
needs is for them to think something is going on and put 24/7 surveillance on
him again. Spider Man would disappear for that entire time period, and he's
sure that they'd eventually piece it together.
Or maybe they think so little of him, they'd never suspect that he would do
anything even remotely remarkable, and wouldn't even begin to entertain the
idea of their precious little son endangering himself in the same way they do
every single day.
"Language." Steve reprimands Tony sharply, glaring, before turning his gaze to
Peter. It softens to a look for concern. He's been worried- his son and husband
haven't talked in almost two weeks now. No more than a few words. It was so
hard for him to watch, and it made every single family event and every single
dinner unbearably tense for everyone.
Except Thor.
He's kinda oblivious at times.
"Young Peter!"Thor bellows, not detecting the suffocating tension in the air,
and also offering a much needed distraction from it. "would you kindly pass the
garlic bread?"
Peter nods without looking up and passes the basket of bread to his left, where
Thor gratefully accepts it and loads his plate.
However, Tony continues to talk, as if he had been uninterrupted, and the
relief gained from Thor's distraction is short lived.
"Honestly, this amateur. What does he think he's doing?" He continues to
comment as "Spider Man saves child from known felon" flashes across the screen,
displaying a series of images of Spidey while the reporter rambles about his
"heroic actions".
Peter flinches again, but does not pause this time, simply rolling with the
punches.
"Nowadays it's like everyone thinks they can just throw on some spandex and
give themselves a stupid name and go save the city. It's bullshit! And this
'Spider Man'- he's the worst of it! He stops petty thieves and the occasional
minor league crime organization that could be taken down by any professional in
the blink of an eye." He rants, taking a swig of whatever alcohol he's decided
to indulge in tonight. Like every night. And afternoon. And, depending on the
day, mornings too.
Peter, who can't take it anymore, lifts his head. "Dad... I think he's just
trying to help. There's really no point in trashing someone for trying to make
the city safer."
"And it speaks." He remarks, rather rudely, setting down his glass. "What a
shame, whenever he decides to come out of his moodiness, it's always about
something stupid, and he's usually wrong."
"Dad," Peter persists. "He's only trying to make things safer."
"Safer? More like more pathetic. He does what the cops should do. He does what
the cops usually do. Sometimes he even meddles in our business. But really, he
wants to be a special snowflake, so he won't leave it to the big kids."
"Just because he gets to things before you do doesn't mean you have to throw a
little jealousy fueled hissy fit."
Thor, still oblivious, continues to stuff his face, while Steve looks shocked
and afraid, and Tony looks beyond pissed.
"Ha," Tony laughs. "Teenagers. You're all so full of crap. You're so desperate
to think that 'right and wrong' and 'justice' are in the hands of the youth,
that you take a liking to people with a lack of skill, finesse, and
intelligence, like our little Spider-loser here."
"To-" Steve starts, but is interrupted by the slamming of a fist on the table.
"You know what?" Peter can feel rage building up in is chest. "You are so full
of crap. Seriously, your precious little ego is more important to you than
anything. You talk like your main concern is the safety of this city, when it's
really the safety of your reputation. Get over yourself."
"Peter." Tony shoots a death glare, leaning forward. "When will it ever get
into your head that you are not an Avenger, you never will be, you will never
come close to that, and you do not get to decide what this city needs? You're
just a naive child. Accept it."
Peter immediately looks down again, hurt, and his eyes are stinging with tears.
His breathing is labored as he tries to restrain himself from crying.
There's only so many insults a kid can take from his own parent in one day, and
he had surpassed that limit a while ago.
He should've known better than to speak up. There really is no point.
"Tony..." Steve frowns, looking between the people he loves most, not sure what
to do. Peter is now sulking and quite clearly on the verge of tears across the
table, his husband is being a cocky bastard, and he has no clue how he's
supposed to fix this, or if he even can.
Peter stands slowly, his eyes trained on the floor, carrying his plate to the
sink, before turning around and heading to his room, without a sound. The
others simply watch him, Tony with a glare, Steve with a heartbroken
expression, and Thor, who is finally aware of the situation, with a look of
confusion and pity.
Peter pauses when he reaches the top of the stairs.
"Nobody bother me. I'm locking my door and going to sleep."
He continues down the hall into his room, where he slams the door behind him,
locking it and pressing his back against it. It takes several minutes of trying
to get keep his shit together before he gives up and snaps.
A strangled sob escapes his lips and he ends up on the floor crying, head in
his hands, and his heart, once again, crushed by his own father.
***** Dumbass-Pool *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
{yellow}
[white]
{hey, maybe this isn't our greatest idea...}
"What are you talking about?" Deadpool tilts his head to the side, tossing a
small box (with a button that, if pressed, sets off explosives that will
obliterate the empty building across the street) between his hands like its
only a toy. His legs are dangling over the edge of a warehouse in the middle of
an abandoned industrial area, and he's kicking them back and forth like a child
on a swing, watching the moon dreamily like the hopeless romantic he truly is.
And, as his poetic side would describe it, "the wind was blowing lightly
through the spandex of his suit as he inhaled the warm, nighttime, polluted
city air, sending chills down his spine, as he waited to meet a dashing young
hero on a desolate rooftop, in the beautifully romantic glow of the moonlight."

Or so he hopes.
{blowing up an abandoned building is not exactly romantic. You might just piss
him off.}
Pool frowns, pouting. "But we're trying to meet the new guy in town, and I'm
pretty sure making a big 'bang' will get his attention better than approaching
him and asking for a chat. Plus, I don't want to chat right now- I wanna check
out his moves in person!"
[and his ass, you perverted freak.]
Pool frowns even more, unhappy about the reappearance of his least favorite of
the two little companions he has in his head. "Ah, I see you've returned from
your sulking." He comments begrudgingly, to the more cruel and obnoxious voice
that refuses to get out of his head. Yellow was so much nicer. Still a dick-
but nicer.
But hearing voices just isn't really nice in general.
[guess who's back back back, back aga-]
{shut up. We're busy.}
"Yeah." Pool sides with yellow, crossing his arms and scowling in a childish
way. "I'm trying to meet a cute boy, now is not the time." He whines.
[we don't even know if he's cute. He could be a 70 year old man with a bunch of
wrinkles and shit. He could be even uglier than us.]
"But he has a nice ass..."
[nice ass does not = cute.]
{save it for later you two.}
[fuck you.]
{you know you want to.}
[you're an idiot.]
He groans, leaning back and furrowing his (hairless) brows, while he tries to
drown out the bickering in his head. He really is starting to hate the voices.
Sometimes it's fine, other times it's incredibly agitating. Lately, it's
agitating. Like how a few days back, they got in a fight over what they wanted
on their taco, and then, after Pool had called him a whiny little bitch and
blew his brains out with a handgun, white decided not to talk to him for
several days. It was a much needed break from the constant bullshit white
filled his head with, but it got lonely for both him and yellow.
Which, in turn, lead to the current predicament- he's on the roof of a
building, explosives set up, all in the hopes of making a friend other than the
voices in his head. Although, I'm sure that it's obvious he is not any good at
making friends, or even being tolerable for more than few minutes. After all,
his idea of creating a "friend making opportunity" is blowing up an abandoned
warehouse.
Yeah, he has some friend issues, to say the least. Although, even if this
doesn't work- he figures that wreaking havoc will at least temporarily fix his
loneliness problem.
[speaking of lonely, how about we get this freak show on the road and blow some
shit up!!]
Sitting back up, and also instantly cheering up, Deadpool grins from underneath
his mask, looking at the button excitedly. Within a few seconds, all previous
thoughts about loneliness and poetic bullshit have left his mind, and he just
wants to explode some shit. He jumps to his feet with renewed energy.
"Yeah, blowing shit up always makes everything better!"
{really, maybe we should reconsider this...}
"Too late."
He presses the button, his stupid grin not faltering for a single second, and
with a huge bang, the building across the street explodes and goes up in
flames.
The explosion sends him stumbling backwards a few feet, landing on his ass. He
watches silently for a moment, observing the flames eat away at and then
completely engulf what was left of the building with a hint of fascination.
As soon as the sirens start, he snaps out of the trance the fire had put him
in, jumping to his feet once again.
"HAAHA!" He pumps his fist in the air. "Fuck yeah, I haven't done anything that
fun in a long time!"
{and now there's a fire. Good job.}
[WOOOOOOOOOOO!]
Deadpool brushes his hands together and stretches his arms over his head,
satisfied with his work, and flexes in the process. "Alright, now to wait for
our-"
He doesn't even finish his sentence before a web flies at him from behind,
pulling his arms violently so they're behind his back, and then, in just a few
seconds, binding them together tightly. He lets out a yelp, startled, but cuts
himself off, trying to keep the wimpiness to a minimum, since he's trying to
make a good impression.
{well, he's hostile. That's just fantastic.}
[whatever- maybe we can make him like us with our dashing manly charms? Oh
wait, I forgot, we have no charms, we're a horrible person, and we are butt-
fucking-ugly.]
He loses his balance when another web restrains his ankles and his legs are
forced together, and, despite every attempt to regain his balance, he
collapses, bumping his head on the cement, and laying on his side. It only took
him a few seconds to have Pool fully restrained.
[so he's kinky- into the whole restraint thing? We can dig it.]
{and he's fast.}
[wonder how fast he is in bed...]
He lets out a breathy laugh, winded, and waiting for some sort of comment from
his captor. When there is none, only the sound of the wind on the rooftop, he
decides to talk.
"Hot damn," he comments, assuming that Spider Man was somewhere behind him.
When there's, once again, no reply, he keeps talking.
"You know, I always thought being webbed up by you would be fun, arousing,
even, but it kinda stings when the web hits you, like snapping a rubber band on
your skin."
There's no reply, only quiet footsteps approaching him.
"Hello? Sexy spider, is that you?" Pool remarks, struggling against the webs,
and discovering that they are significantly stronger than he had anticipated.
Actually, he is fairly certain he won't be able to escape them.
The footsteps stop directly behind him, and he rolls himself over with great
difficulty (especially since all of the weapons strapped to his body are poking
and prodding at his already irritated and sensitive skin in the process of
doing so), looking up to see none other than Spider Man himself.
[success! And a nice view of his ass, too! Told you it would work!]
{actually, you didn't, he did.}
[whatever.]
"Guys... Now probably isn't the time." He tries to shut the voices up in the
lowest voice possible, so he can focus on whatever Spider Babe here has to say
to him.
"Care to explain what this is about?" The other masked man crosses his arms
disapprovingly, standing over his captive, and using what could only be
described as "the mom voice".
"Wow..." Pool ignores the question, trying to sit up, but Spidey uses his foot
to press him back against the ground. "You're a bit shorter looking in
person... And you sound young. How old are you? Are you even legal?" He asks,
fascinated.
{dude, asking if someone's legal in the first impression is a bad idea. You
know, creeping?}
[but... Is he???]
"Guys." He whispers to himself sharply. "Not. Now."
[yeesh, fine. Bitch.]
After a pause, during which Spider Man was trying to comprehend what the actual
fuck this guy is saying, he speaks."What the hell are you sa- Okay, forget
that- who are you?" He tries again, frustrated already. He's had an emotionally
rough night at home already, and is not in the mood to deal with this shit. He
wants to get this over with and leave.
The sirens are growing nearer and he's digging through his memories to try and
remember if he's dealt with this guy before. He can't really put a name to him
and has no recognition of him, and his parents haven't mentioned him, so he
figures he's just a lunatic in a mask.
Now, he just has to figure out who this guy is, and if he has some sort of
criminal organization or terrorist threat to worry about, not just this moron.
"Just your friendly neighborhood Deadpool, always DTF." He chirps, despite the
fact that Spider Man is currently aggressively digging the heel of his foot
into his ribcage.
"Okay," he responds, agitated, and ignoring the second half of that
introduction. "Why are you blowing up buildings? Who do you work for? What do
you guys want?"
Pool chuckles, amused, earning him a much harder press into his ribs. "Look,
babe," he struggles to speak and breathe in between words with the pressure on
his chest, which is only increasing as Spidey's impatience grows.
"Asphyxiation... is kinda where... I draw... The line... When... It comes to...
Kinks, So... Let up please."
"Will you answer my questions?" He presses.
"Sure... Whatever... You want...Baby cakes..." He chokes out, in quite a bit
more pain than he thought someone this kid's age could inflict.
{holy shit, this kid is strong! I think he just cracked our rib.}
[he's so scrawny though! I mean he's got muscle, like, a sexy amount, but not
much.]
{I was right, he has some abilities other than the web shooting thingys.}
[you mean the cum shooters?]
As soon as the suffocating pressure is released from his chest, Pool inhales
sharply, coughing a bit before sitting himself up and struggling to prop
himself up against a cold wall, his hands and feet still bound. When he
succeeds to do so, Spider Man doesn't waste any time.
"Who do you work for?"
"Nobody."
"Don't lie to me. I will hurt you." He threatens, glaring so much his mask
actually contorts a bit, and it looks damn scarier in the light from the
blazing fire behind them.
"No, I'm serious- I don't work for anyone. I'm just a mercenary, but I don't
work with anyone long term. I have been rejected from every single hero and
mutant group in the Marvel Universe. Even the bad guys don't like me. They say
I'm annoying and agitating and inappropriate and my morals are shit and don't
know when to shut up. And also that I'm completely mentally unstable and a bit
too quick to pull the trigger. And violent. personally, I do agree with all of
those things, as well as the well known fact that I am totally ugly. But I
mean, if you have some patience I'm not that bad and maybe I should just-"
"Oh my god, shut up, please." Spider Man interrupts him, and he now has no
doubt in his mind that his guy is borderline crazy, and probably not working
for anyone. Who could tolerate this shit?
Also, what the hell is the "Marvel Universe"?
He's silent while he thinks over how to handle this, watching as firemen
finally arrive on the scene and start to struggle to put out the massive fire,
not yet coming after the man who started it.
[great job, you made him hate us. Everyone hates us. You know why? Because we
are actual shit. Like seriously we are a fucking mess and nobody will ever
tolerate us and we are completely useless. Do everyone a favor and just keep on
trying to die.]
Pool shrinks back a bit, genuinely a bit hurt by the words coming from his own
mind, and Spidey's reaction. (or lack thereof.) desperate to escape the
situation before he embarrasses himself further, and regretting his choices in
the first place, he starts to try to talk his way out.
"Look, if you'd just get me out of these, I'll be out of your hair- or, uh,
webs- before you know it." He tries, tired of waiting for a reply.
"You just blew up a building and literally admitted that you're mentally
unstable, and you want me to set you loose? I don't think so." He scoffs,
shaking his head. "Might as well just drop you off at the psych ward myself,
see what they can do."
{that is a bad idea. That is a very bad idea. Please tell him that it's a bad
idea.}
[no no no no no no. Not again. Never again. Kill him.]
"No way!" He yells all of the sudden, both terrified and pissed- he's directing
it at white and Spider Man.
"Hm?" He cocks his head, confused by the sudden outburst, especially because
Pool wasn't even facing him when he said it.
"Uh... You might not want to do that." Pool counters, growing more desperate.
"And why is that?" Spider Man drawls, impatient but deciding to humor this
Deadpool guy anyways.
"See, some people have tried that before, and to summarize- I completely lost
my shit and literally killed everyone in the marvel universe. That includes
you." He speaks rapidly, his anxiety spiking, but he hasn't gotten too pissed-
he seems friendly enough, and incapable of doing anything super bad, for the
time being. He's not even making any sense.
He raises an eyebrow. "What the hell is the marvel universe?"
"Uh... Nevermind. Look, my point is that if you drop me off in a hospital or
prison or wherever, you will regret it."
"Mhm. Look, buddy, I'm not listening to this crap anymore. I don't know what
you're trying to-"
"Shut the fuck up and listen to me!" He shouts, slamming his bound fists into
the wall behind him. Spider Man, startled by the sudden change in demeanor,
steps back, glancing worriedly around them for anyone who have have heard,
before turning his attention back to Deadpool.
"I am a well trained assassin and mercenary," he growls. "I have been both
arrested and forcefully hospitalized many times, and all people involved ended
up with a bullet in their head or a knife to the throat, their blood completely
soaking my clothes, and I will not, I repeat, not hesitate to do it again." He
inhales sharply, pausing and trying to keep it together. "So, you can let me
go, or be responsible for the slaughter of an entire hospital staff. Your
choice." His voice has turned incredibly dark, his body tense, and Spider Man
immediately reevaluates his first take on this guy.
He's not just crazy, he's sure of that much. From what this guy is saying, he's
dangerous. And even though there's no proof that he's as dangerous as he
claims, the instantaneous mood swings and outbreaks are proof enough for Spidey
that precautions should be taken.
"Look, I'm sure as hell not about to let you go- I'm taking you somewhere, but
forget putting you with civilians." He crosses his arms.
"Where the hell...?" Pool asks, confused, and increasingly concerned. This
entire thing had gone completely sideways. He had burnt down a building for
nothing.
Fantastic.
[please be a BDSM dungeon or something.]
{I don't think that's what he meant.}
[a boy can dream, can he not?]
Spider Man suddenly snaps his fingers, nodding to himself, before pausing for a
good minute to think it over some more.
"Ah, okay, I know where. Hold still." He finally says, although he sounds
rather reluctant.
After pacing for a minute to figure out what angles to shot from, he shoots
more webs, wrapping deadpool's entire body with them, like a fly in a web.
He immediately begins to struggle, flailing around and yelling, fighting the
webbing as hard as he can. He usually didn't have any issue with sexual related
restraints- but this shit reminded him of the weapon X program, way, way too
much.
[no, this is not okay, I'm not okay with this, nope nope nope nope.]
{get us out of here! What if- oh my god, what if he makes us go through more
experiments... What if he brings us back to weapon X??No... No no no. Out. Now.
Please.}
White has been launched into panic, mumbling rapidly, and steadily increases
his volume.
A few cops on the scene of the now sizzling and shrinking fire look up to the
roof, startled by the shouting.
"Crap." Spidey ducks down, wrapping some webbing around Pool's mouth to silence
him, or at least muffle him.
"Just hold still, okay?" He coaxes, knowing it probably won't work. He feels
like he's working with some cornered animal, and, to be honest, he's not very
far off.
After a great deal of rushed struggling against the sing logically larger and
heavier mercenary, Pool is literally strapped to Spider Man's back with webs,
and quite securely as well.
{well, this has gone horribly wrong. I told you. Let's just hope they don't sew
our mouth shut...}
Pool is still now, concentrating on trying to silence white, who's begun
screaming at the top of his lungs in sheer panic. It's absolutely earsplitting,
and driving him insane.
"Please!" He screams, but it's almost inaudible through the webbing.
Spider Man launches himself off of the roof on the side away from the fire,
struggling to balance with so much weight on his back.
He swings from one building to another, doing his best to remain out of sight,
and to avoid any populated areas.
"Spider Man carries criminal across city, piggyback style" was not a headline
he wanted to see.
Or a headline he wanted his father to see.
Pool, who's now gone silent in his own agony, caused by white's screaming,
watches as calmly as he can, quickly realizing where they're heading-
The Avengers' tower.
{oh, hell no.}
Chapter End Notes
     Holy shit I wasn't going to continue this but chapter one guy 207
     kudos??? I'm so sorry for how long this took but here you go!
***** First day of drama club *****
"He's being continuously pumped full of every heavy duty sedative we have.
Should keep him down for a while, or at least I hope so. If he wakes up, I have
outfitted the cage to hold him- electric currents are going through all of the
bars, strong enough to deep fry a herd of elephants. But if we slip up and he
gets out, we really are screwed." Bruce speaks quietly to Tony, while looking
to the custom-made prison cell with distaste.
Inside of the 6x8 foot prison, Deadpool is lying in a cot, a hospital gown
falling over his well built and horrifically scarred body. All of his weapons,
and his suit, have been confiscated and locked away. A majority of his
destroyed skin is now visible, since the gown is a bit small for his large and
muscular body. They're aware he'll flip shit when he wakes up, but Bruce has a
replacement suit and mask on hand, one that isn't covered in weapons, just for
him to use while he's being kept here. The one thing he hates most is having
his skin exposed, and they don't need him any more pissed than he already will
be.
They have seen his body before, in previous incidents where he ended up in
their infirmary, but it always caught them off guard. The peeling, bloody,
brown, yellow, and red skin covering him is an unpleasant sight, to say the
least. Tony really can't blame him for keeping the mask on.
"Okay. Just get the blood, run the tests you need, and we'll go from there."
Tony orders him, speaking firmly and crossing his arms.
"Quit ordering me around. I'm not Peter." Bruce scowls, not taking well to the
commands. He never does. Everyone on the team is agitated by their little
control freak, aka Stark the asshat. They've realized, to a certain extent,
that trying to argue and stop his controlling nature is useless, but they still
try.
Tony just continues to watch the unconscious prisoner, glaring, undisturbed by
Bruce's reprimanding.
"Tony, listen to me." Bruce tries, to no avail.
"Tony!"
Reluctantly, the tired-eyed man turns to face him, finally looking away from
Pool.
Bruce continues to speak to him, frustrated, but grateful to finally have his
attention, nonetheless. "I will run a few tests and a psych evaluation, and I
will figure out what to do with him afterwards, and I will let you know. But
you need to not intervene, please. We've never had such an opportunity to get a
look at his immortality, and now, thanks to Spider Man-"
"Ha." Tony scoffs, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Thanks to Spider Man my
ass. He just unloaded his problems on us- why should we thank him?"
"Jesus Christ, could you accept him for just a second?" He slams his fist on
the table between them, growing more agitated by the second. He just has to
pick a fight with anyone, doesn't he? Iron Man or not, he's damn near
intolerable.
Tony doesn't respond, just looks blankly at his friend, making a small and
failed attempt to hide his irritation.
Bruce sighs, crossing his arms. "What I'm saying is that this is a unique
opportunity, and if you happen to run into our little spider friend, I'd like
you to thank him."
"I think not. Honestly, he's such a nuisance, I-" just as he was about to fling
lord knows how many insults at the spider vigilante, the automatic lab doors
slide open, interrupting Tony and revealing Peter, who's holding a cup of
coffee, and has a fragile smile on his pale face. It immediately falls when he
sees his father.
There's a long moment of silence, Tony's angry eyes meeting his, before Peter
takes a deep breath.
"Bruce," he ignores Tony, breaking the eye contact, and taking a step forwards.
"I brought you some-"
"Peter!" His father yells, startling his son, turning away from Bruce. "What
the hell are you doing here?"
"I just thought I'd bring uncle Bruce some coffee..." His voice drops a bit,
becoming shaky, and his eyes are now trained on his feet. He was hoping he
could get past his father, but it clearly isnt happening. "I heard he got a
tough assignment last night, I just wanted to help and ask about-"
"No!" Tony roars, moving so he stands between Peter and the cage. He's aware
he's being cruel, but he won't take the chance of Peter getting acquainted with
the psycho prisoner of theirs. He knows that Pool will likely cling to Peter,
and possibly use him to get to the avengers.
When a look of fear crosses his son's face when he steps towards him, Tony
steps back again, feeling mildly guilty, lowering his voice to a calm but stern
tone.
"This is not only a tough assignment, but a dangerous one. I need you to leave,
now." He orders, stepping closer to Peter once more.
Bruce looks helplessly at his nephew, who meets his pity filled gaze with a
look of apology, although he has nothing to apologize for.
"Alright. Sorry..." Peter quickly turns on his heels, eyes still trained on the
floor, walking out as quickly as possible after leaving the coffee on a table
near the door.
It slides shut once more behind him, and Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his
nose. Bruce doesn't say a word, disapproving of Tony's outburst, but also aware
that it was for the sake of Peter's safety.
After a long silence, Tony speaks, turning to face his friend.
"Am I too hard on him?"
Bruce snorts. "That's an understatement."
Tony just shakes his head, somehow regaining his composure and immediately
losing any pity for his son. That was his specialty- immediately pulling the
blame away from himself. "Teenagers don't make any sense."
"No, Tony. You don't make any sense." Bruce looks at him with a mix of anger
and annoyance. Peter is like a son to Bruce as well, and seeing his father
treat him so horribly is most definitely upsetting.
"Whatever you say. Just have fun with your lab rat." He walks out without
another word.
Bruce sighs again, going back to fiddling with some needles at the lab table,
but still thinking about Peter, and the look in his eyes each time his father
yelled at him for the most harmless things.
It really is enough to crush your heart.
"Daddy issues?"
Much to his embarrassment, Bruce practically jumps out of his skin as he whirls
around to see their scarred prisoner, conscious, sitting up, and clutching the
IV he ripped out of his arm in a tight fist.
"Wow, the hulk, so easily frightened! How adorable!" Pool laughs cheerfully,
standing up. "I wonder what it would be like if I scared you while you were
giant broccoli man- cause an earthquake, perhaps?"
"How long have you been awake?" Bruce asks incredulously. He knew that his
captive had a strong resistance to sedatives, but the amount that should be
flowing through him right now could put down an army.
"The entire time. Well, actually, Spidey managed to knock me out during the
struggle to lock me up in this shithole, but I woke up almost immediately after
you locked the door. Just stayed "pretend asleep" to get the scoop on what the
Brady bunch in spandex has planned for me today. And, wow, you ladies have
quite the drama club here! For god's sake, Tony has a kid! I don't remember
being told about this."
[and a hot one, at that. Did you see that ass?]
He steps closer to the bars of his prison, listening intently to the buzzing of
the electricity and looking Bruce directly in the eyes. Having his skin exposed
alarms him, and ever since white woke up, he's been going on about how much
it's been pissing him off, but Bruce has seen it all before. He'll just ask for
a mask and some clothes later.
"You have no business speaking about my nephew. You were supposed to be
unconscious, and he is not to come in any form of contact with you. As a matter
of fact, you weren't even supposed to know of his existence." Bruce says
stiffly, also stepping closer to the bars of the cage.
Pool raises his hands in a surrender like fashion, shaking his head. "Heyo,
your secret's safe with me buddy. But how did they keep that shit a secret for
so long? The media loves Tony- he's famous, rich, heroic, and about as asshole-
ish as it gets. They must go out in public together, so how come I've never
seen that little hot piece of-"
"Watch it." Bruce snaps, cutting him off.
"Well I'm sorry, uncle Bruce."
He shrugs.
"Call me that again and I'll push you into the electric bars my damn self." He
shakes his head with a groan and turns around, digging around in some drawers
to try and find that replacement suit. He can feel pool getting antsy about
having his skin exposed, just in the tone of his voice alone.
As much as he hates to admit it, he has a weird understanding for the
mercenary. Bruce has some sort of talent for detecting anger and stress in
other people, and for whatever reason, he can detect it the easiest in Pool.
Maybe because they both turned into freaks. Whatever the case, that connection
gives Bruce an annoying sympathy for him, that has repeatedly annoyed the shit
out of Tony.
Meanwhile, pool is still mulling over the whole electrocution concept, pacing
around the cell. He tries his hardest to focus on that, instead of how much of
his hideous skin is visible.
[i wouldn't mind that too much.]
{it wouldn't be fun though. Probably hurt like a bitch.}
"We always hurt... Our skin is literally peeling off." He mumbles, not
disturbing Bruce, who's well aware that Pool is off on another one of his
tangents where he talks to himself about god knows what.
[we've done so much fucked up shit in bed though, we gotta try something new
every now and then. Electricity play couldn't possibly be the worst.]
"You're not wrong, but maybe we could start with baby steps... Crank down the
voltage, you know? Maybe not kill ourselves straight off the bat?"
[nah, just jump right in! The longer it kills us, our hideous self, the better!
It's not like anyone will ever miss us. Shit, just imagine the party the
Avengers would throw! "World's greatest nuisance dead!" Would be all over the
headlines! Oh, wait- you can't die. Which would make everyone happy. So would
ya look at that, you'll never make anyone happy. Somehow I am not surprised.]
"Stop..." He whimpers as white continues to go on and on in self loathing,
throwing insults left and right.
It's a daily occurrence, the whole self loathing rant thing, but being
captured, exposed, and feeling ridiculed makes him that much more susceptible
to the hurtful words coming from his own mind.
The anxiety about not having his suit is coming through more and more in the
way he's clenching his fists and flinching, trying to steady his breathing, and
pacing faster and faster, and Bruce digs around more, unsure of where he set
the suit.
Eventually, he realizes- Tony took it when he walked out, likely in the hopes
that pool would have a meltdown without it. And at this rate, Tony really would
get what he wanted.
"That son of a bitch..." Bruce mumbles, shaking his head.
He looks up sympathetically at Pool, who's now hyperventilating and curled up
in a ball on the cot, clutching the sides of his head in a fashion that is
probably an attempt to drown out the voices.
Realizing he really needs to go get a suit before his prisoner has a meltdown,
or worse, he jumps up.
"I'll be right back. Hang in there." He says hurriedly over his shoulder as he
speed walks out the door, forgetting to lock it behind him.
The only response he gets is another whimper.
***** Just like you *****
Peter knows his father will kill him if he finds out, and Bruce would probably
flip shit, but he has returned to the lab, after seeing Bruce speed walking
down the hallways and screaming for Tony. It was something about a suit he
stole? Whatever the case, it gives him an opportunity, and he silently creeps
back up to the top floor, where one of Bruce's multiple labs is located. If he
is working in the top floor lab, it is usually particularly dangerous or a
pressing issue, and that is confusing to him. This "Deadpool" had been fairly
easy for him to catch and bring in, only coming out with a few scratches and
bruises here and there. The fact that they are treating him like some major
threat is both concerning and intriguing.
Knowing how his father tends to disappear for long periods of time, he figures
that he'll have enough time to pop in and out of the lab, just to see this
Deadpool guy up close, maybe ask a few questions. He just hopes that he doesn't
recognize his voice or figure.
Much to his good luck, the lab is unlocked, and the doors slide open without
him even having to enter the code, which he managed to figure out by following
his uncle around when he was a kid, and he was allowed to observe the family
working. Now, things have clearly changed.
He steps forward hesitantly and the doors slide shut behind him, leaving him in
the "forbidden lab". He looks around at all the tables in the room, illuminated
by blue and white LED lights, with books and papers and an assortment of
scientific instruments scattered across them. There's photos of notorious
criminals and other random articles tacked up on the walls, and the place is
significantly messier than the rest of his labs.
He takes a few steps forward, nearly tripping over a pile of tangled up lab
coats on the floor. Making a surprised noise when he catches his balance again,
he steps around them, looking up again at the cage off to the left.
There's a figure huddled up in the corner, covered by what looks like the cloth
literally ripped off of the cot. The frame of the makeshift hospital bed his
upside down on the other side of the enclosure, what's left of the padding and
fabric on it torn to shreds. All of the IV tubes and needles have been thrown
about, some of them looking burnt, probably from the electricity he can hear
buzzing through the bars.
He tip toes towards the tiny prison, trying not to startle the man. He's in the
corner, none of his body visible because of the cloth, but he's clearly tense
and alarmed, like a wounded animal.
When Peter is just a few steps away from the edge cage, he clears his throat,
looking towards the figure with sympathy in his eyes. He knows he's the one who
put him here, but the guy did threaten to mass murder an entire hospital staff.
It wasn't like he could've left him on the streets. And yet, he still feels
shitty about it, just because he's aware this man is clearly emotionally and
psychologically unstable, and being left in the hands of someone as cruel as
Tony, when you're wounded enough as it is, isn't fun. He would know.
"Uh-" he starts to speak, not exactly sure what he's going to say.
He doesn't get another syllable out before Deadpool makes a strangled noise.
"You're not supposed to be in here." His voice quivers.
"Well, yeah- I just wanted to know what all the commotion was about..." He
says, biting his lip nervously and adjusting his short brown quiff, despite the
fact that nobody is looking at him.
"It's nothing. Leave." The man speaks firmly, or as firmly as he can in his
current state.
"Well, I just wanted to know who you are, what you do." He insists, ignoring
the command to leave.
"Peter, is it?" Pool asks without removing the sheet.
"Yeah..."
"Well, Peter, I am your worst nightmare. What I do? Things you don't need to
know about. Now leave." He snaps, just trying to get this kid to leave him
alone so he could focus on trying to quiet the voices.
"But-" he tries to keep arguing and asking more questions, but he's interrupted
almost immediately.
"Peter!" Bruce shouts when he re-emerges, significantly sooner than he had
expected.
Shit.
Peter spins around, a guilty expression on his face. "Uncle Bruce- I'm sorry, I
was just curious and the lab was unlocked and I figured I should just check
this out and you know, I never meant to-"
"Enough." Bruce interrupts, setting the suit he finally managed to find on a
table beside him, and furrows his brows. After a moment of silence, staring at
his frozen and scared nephew, and an exasperated sigh, he speaks again, this
time, much gentler. "You know, I don't approve of how harsh your father was,
but you can't be in here. He wasn't wrong about the danger."
Peter turns his head for a moment to look at the figure in the corner, which
hasn't spoken or revealed itself since Bruce walked in.
"He doesn't look too dangerous to me..." He says quietly, looking between his
uncle and the prisoner with uncertainty. "Frankly, he seems pretty harmless."
"He's not-" Pool grunts, trying to remind them of his presence, clearly not
wanting to hear himself getting shit talked. "Can we speak in the hall?" Bruce
stops mid sentence and eyes Deadpool warily.
Peter nods, starting towards the door.
"I'll meet you out there." He reassures.
Once his nephew leaves, he picks up the plain black suit, a ski mask on top,
and tosses it through the bars of the cage. It lands a few feet in front of
Pool, who brings the sheet down just enough to see over it.
"Get dressed. I'll be back." He says as coldly as he can, not waiting for a
response before he briskly walks out to meet Peter in the hall.
The door doesn't even shut completely before his nephew begins to argue.
"Uncle, he's literally curled up in a ball in a corner of the cell! How can he
be so dangerous I can't even be in the same room- he's very well restrained!"
"I see where you're coming from, and he does seem harmless enough. But he's
not. He's killed people. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. For money. And he likes it.
He's mentally unstable, and he can go from what you just saw, a pitiful mess,
to laughing over your dead body, soaked in your blood." He warns, crossing his
arms.
"Okay, fine, maybe he's a psychopath." Peter crosses his arms as well, jutting
out one hip, as he usually does when he argues (at least when he's arguing with
anyone other than his father). "But that is an electrically charged cage, and
he has no weapons. How can he hurt me right now?"
"It's not that I'm worried about him killing you- I mean, I most certainly am-
what I'm worried about is him messing with your head. It's what he does best.
As a matter of fact, that's all he does. He's crazy, Peter. He could probably
talk you into setting him free if he really wanted to. And worse yet, I don't
think he'd kill you. He'd just use you against us. Now he knows our only
weakness, and we are not about to wave it in front of his damn face."
"So you don't trust me? That's what this is?" Peter remarks, agitated, pulling
a typical teenager line.
"No, Peter. You're just as strong and intelligent as the rest of us, definitely
more than your knucklehead of a father, so don't take anything I'm saying the
wrong way. I'm just worried. You're a bit young to be having this kind of life,
and all we want is to keep you out of this criminal justice, vigilante shit for
as long as we possibly can. We want you to have a life, Peter, and not one that
involves dealing with shitheads like him."
"But that's not what I want." Peter sighs. "I get it- you love me, want to keep
me out of harms way, yap yap yap. But you can't. Being a part of the avengers
family, even if you aren't an Avenger, immediately throws you into the grips of
the whole criminal justice, vigilante, constant danger thing. For that exact
reason, nobody even knows I exist! They all just think I'm Tony's secretary,
not his son!"
"Exactly!" Bruce says. "That's us trying to keep you safe. We love you Peter,
and we know how you feel, but there's not much of a choice here."
Peter immediately looks sullen, upset by the rejection.
"Look, all I know is my parents died and now I'm in a family of superheroes who
adopted me, and I'm being treated like I'm inferior. I know I'm just a little
old photographer, and a "secretary" for you, not some super human" (if only
they knew...) "but I just want to be useful. And I want to participate or at
least know what's going on. I just want to be able to check in on this guy,
talk to him, and leave if he tries to manipulate me. I'll even bring him his
meals every day, so if tony asks you can just say I'm a better cook or
whatever. Just let me be in on this one thing. Please." He pleads, his soft
brown eyes shining in a way that would impact almost everyone's decisions.
Fortunately for Peter, his uncle is one of those people who has issues turning
down a curious child, especially the only child he's ever really grown to
attached to.
"Peter..." He starts. "Look, I don't know-"
"Cmon Uncle Bruce, if I can't help with the missions and the danger, I can at
least help in the labs, right? Be like a scientist or something, like you and
dad? Maybe make something of my life?"
That was it. The whole "I want to be like you someday" drove the final nail
into the coffin.
Bruce pauses for a moment, trying so hard to act like the decision hadn't
practically been made for him. This kid is relentless, and he knows that if he
bans him from seeing Deadpool, he would sneak in and get his ass in trouble.
With a sigh of reluctance, he gives in.
"Fine, fine, only for educational purposes. But avoid anyone finding out, okay?
You can bring him his meals, and I'll handle the lunch while you're at school.
But be in and out of there. No more than a few words. He argues, asks to get
out, begs, pleads, even starts dying- which I should mention, is actually
physically impossible for him, so don't believe his shit- you walk away and you
come find me or your father. Are we clear?"
Peter nods vigorously, the pleading look on his face immediately turning into a
satisfied grin.
Bruce, who has had an incredibly worried look on his face for the past few
hours, sighs and laughs, releasing the tension in his body and facial
expression. He smiles back at Peter lovingly, glad to see a grin back on his
nephews face, after not seeing that expression for far too long.
"Okay, you go do homework or photograph stuff, or whatever it is you young
people do, and I'll email you some files with basic info on Deadpool. Print
them and delete all evidence that they were sent to you."
Peter's smile grows as he nods again, turning around and walking to the
elevator with a bit of spring in his step, that nobody had seen in him for a
longgggggg time.
Bruce just smiles after him, watching him disappear into the elevator with a
look of fondness on his aged face.
***** Confusion *****
Peter sits in his room, on his unmade bed, looking at the computer screen in
his lap with tired eyes.
As promised, Uncle Bruce had forwarded all the files they had on Deadpool. It
is a  list of everything they know about him and his abilities (which isn't
much, at all), most of the crimes and destruction he's been responsible for,
all the run ins they've had with him, the people he killed, and, most
intriguing of all, a file full of all the people he's ever assisted or saved.
Peter has been reading through all the different files, report by report,
skipping around every now and then, but never quite getting bored. This man,
whoever he originally was, has been through hell and back. It's really nwonder
he lost his damn mind. Anyone would.
Although, from the looks of it, he was crazy before all the major incidents,
including the rather gruesome one that involved him becoming, for the most
part, immortal. There was not much information on that, much like everything
else involving his background- it just says that Weapon X left him horrifically
deformed, immortal, psychotic, and blood thirsty.
He flips around the general information file, trying to piece everything
together. Unfortunately for him and his endless curiosity, there's little
information in this file. His real name and any updated photographs aren't
there, but it does say how he became immortal, the alarmingly high body count
he has, a list of possible mental illnesses and deformities, and his estimated
age. There's a note at the bottom, saying that the most recent photographs and
most information linking him to his previous life, other than his military
days, had been removed and put in a confidential file at Deadpool's request.
Otherwise, it's just blank.
Scrolling some more, he comes across an attachment of photographs. Out of
curiosity, he clicks on the link, opening a collection of just a few photos.
Within the pictures are photos of a man in uniform, well built and just over 6
feet tall, smiling with some blonde guy in glasses. From one photo to the next,
it's the same guy, with an assortment of people beside him- both dead and
alive.
Peter's eyes widen at a picture where you can finally see Deadpool's entire
face. With chiseled features, warm brown eyes, and basically a drop dead
gorgeous face all around, he is certainly unexpectedly attractive. It was to a
point that he is alarmingly attracted to him. Which is certainly  strange,
considering that Peter has never even considered himself being gay.
And yet, he can't deny the weird and mildly sexually driven thoughts that pop
into his head when he flips to yet another photo, this one showing the man
shirtless, with pecs, biceps, and abs all displayed in a way that made him look
like a goddamn model.
Shifting uncomfortably, he wonders if he'll get to see that in person, and then
immediately chases that thought out of his mind. Having any sort of attraction
to a murderer isn't within his interests, regardless of how absolutely ripped
that murdered is.
But, when Peter checks the date on the photos, he notices that all of them are
dated long before the incident.
Lord knows what he looks like now, since all the photos taken after those days
are in some file somewhere that only his parents could ever access them.
But really, how bad can it be?
He tries to imagine what he could possibly look like underneath the mask,
wether he still looked so handsome. I mean, the suit he had been wearing was
very form fitting, and he is obviously still incredibly muscular, so what makes
him so horrifically deformed?
Unfortunately for him, pondering that for too long, along with realizing that
this hot person is literally in a cage just a few floors above him, ends up
creating a dreadfully familiar tightness in the crotch of his pants. He starts
to shift around even more to try and ignore it, to no avail. It actually just
makes it worse.
He groans, mentally cursing his teenage hormones and slams the back of his head
into the headboard. Did he seriously just get a boner over a goddamn mercenary?
For real?
"Peter!" A quiet voice snaps him out of his fantasies, along with some banging
on his bedroom door.
"Uh- ah-" he slams the laptop shut, shoving it under his pillow, and pulls the
covers up to his stomach, panicking. "C-come on in!"
Steve walks in with a small and forced grin on his face. "Hey, how are you?"
"I- I'm pretty good, yeah." He shifts around some more, also bearing a forced
grin, trying to look even remotely relaxed. It isn't working, but Steve is kind
of blind at times, although lovable. Thank god for that.
"I heard about the incident with your father..." He comments, giving Peter a
weak, pity filled smile. He goes to sit on the bed, but Peter decides to
spontaneously starfish the fuck out of his bed, taking up all the space in an
attempt to avoid anuncomfortable situation.
Steve, confused, just keeps standing.
"Yeah, it's whatever. I mean, I guess. Yknow, not like, new or anything." He
mumbles, fidgeting uncomfortably even more. Leave, leave, leave, he wants to
scream, but unfortunately his father really, really doesn't seem to have any
intention of doing so.
"It shouldn't be happening so often, though." He says firmly, looking as if
it's taking quite a bit of effort to remain calm. "He doesn't treat you well
anymore, and I know that, I just..."
"You just what, dad?" Peter snaps. "Look, he doesn't give a shit and you
shouldn't have to make up for that. I don't expect you to. I'm fine." He's
lying now, but he doesn't like telling Steve when he's not okay. It's too hard
to see the pain in his eyes.
Steve looks at him sympathetically. "He doesn't mean it, you know. He loves
you. He really does." He notes that his father looks afraid, for whatever
reason, but he decides against pressing the issue. Instead, he responds as
irritatedly as usual.
"Pfft. How about he gets his arrogant ass in here and tells me his damn self?"
Steve sighs, shaking his head, and decides to ignore the swearing for the time
being. "I've been trying... But as you said, arrogance is a bit of an issue
with your father." He bites his lip, looking anywhere but into his son's eyes.
He fidgets in a nervous way, something he's never done before, unless something
is seriously wrong.
"Why are you telling me this?" Peter questions, sitting up, alarmed.
"I..." He looks at his feet, sniffing a bit. "I just feel... Really bad, about
all of this, these issues with your father..."
"Dad, what are you so sorry for? It's not your fault." Peter, who's arousal has
twisted into fear, stands up, walking around the bed. He places a tentative
hand on his father's muscular arm, looking up at his tear filled eyes.
"I- I never should've-" suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, Steve lets out a
strangled sob, grabbing his son by the shoulders and protectively pulling him
into his strong arms and against his chest.
Peter, although caught off guard and increasingly afraid, allows this gesture
in silence, returning the embrace as his father, Captain fucking America, sobs
into his shoulder. He strokes his father's back lovingly for a few moments,
until he pulls it together, standing up straight and wiping his bloodshot eyes.
He sniffs a few times, looking ashamed.
"Dad... Have you slept, like, at all?" Peter asks worriedly, looking at the
mess of a man before him.
"Don't worry about it. I just... I want you to know that no matter what
happens, I love you. I always will. I promise." He assures his son, who's now
incredibly confused.
"Wha-" before he even gets a question out, his father is out of the room, the
door shutting softly behind him.
Slowly, Peter backs up, sitting down on the bed very slowly. He places his head
in his shaking hands, exhaling sharply, holding back tears of his own. Seeing
someone as strong as his father in tears is nerve wracking and beyond
upsetting.
And that brings him to the question; what the hell just happened, and why? Why
did Captain America just burst into tears? What is he missing?
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