Peter

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The sound of rapid gun fire rang out, assaulting Peter's sensitive ears and making his head spin as he flipped through the air and landed in a crouch on top of a stack of shipping containers, moving mostly on instinct. He stayed low, mentally scrambling to make sense of what was happening around him. Chaos had broken out so suddenly, with no discernable warning, and now he was left struggling not to get hit by any of the bullets flying through space. As far as he could tell, he wasn't even the one being shot at.

He and Wade had come down to the docks to check out a large-scale drug deal that the mercenary had heard about from one of his contacts in the criminal world. It was supposed to be a simple bust, using their tried and true method of distraction and capture (Wade did the distracting, Peter did the capturing). They'd just split up to come at the group making the trade from two different sides, but violence had broken out before Wade could start his distraction.

Peter peered over the edge of the shipping container he was perched on, forcing himself not to flinch at every low buzz of his spidey sense. He could see their original targets, six men dressed in clothes that were way too expensive for a stroll through the shipping yard, huddled together behind their black SUVs as they fended off gunfire from two sides. The other men, at least eight that Peter could see from his vantage point, had clearly ambushed the drug dealers in an attempt to steal the product and the cash. "Fuck." Peter cursed under his breath, wondering how neither he nor Wade had noticed the large group of party crashers sneaking up on them.

He was just beginning to strategize, trying to figure out the best place to start webbing people up to optimize the element of surprise, when a loud whoop of joy sounded out over the din.

"Whoooo-hooo! Yippy kai yay, motherfuckers!" Peter watched in disbelief as Deadpool somersaulted over one of the cars and recklessly engaged their original targets, swinging his fists and kicking out wildly. Apparently stealth was completely out the window now.

What little semblance of order there had been dissolved into chaos as the frightened men reacted to Deadpool, breaking form to engage him while still trying to hold off their first attackers. The panic in the air was almost palpable, making Peter's hair stand on end. He hissed in frustration and crawled down the side of the shipping containers, losing Wade from sight as he made his way towards the men shooting from across the yard. The quicker he got this tied up, the better.

He could still hear Wade yelling nonsense in the background as he began to pick the men off one by one, webbing their semi-automatics away before sticking each one to the unforgiving ground. He hoped the mercenary was behaving himself, and was fairly confident that he was at least refraining from unnecessary deaths since he hadn't drawn his katanas (which he was even more dangerous with in close quarters than his guns). Still, a subtle sense of foreboding was making Peter's actions rushed and sloppy as he dodged a few bullets from one of the last men standing and webbed his gun away with a short curse. He quickly stuck the struggling thug to the pavement beside his buddies and swung up onto the nearest stack of containers to get eyes on Wade.

"Hells yeah, Yellow. He would look fucking fine with his guts spilling out all over the place." Four of the six were on the ground, assumedly unconscious since there were no copious amounts of blood or obvious wounds. Wade was facing off against the last two, but it hardly looked like he was trying. He was… loose. Careless. "Hear that boys? Bobby Kennedy wants his hair back. Too soon? No? Well shit, no need to get snippy about it. White knows what I'm sayin'." The men turned to run, panic and desperation clear on their faces, but stumbled to a stop upon seeing Spider-Man ahead, blocking their path out.

Peter tensed, fingers hovering over his web shooters as the criminals held their guns up with shaking hands.

"Hey!" Wade yelled out from behind them, a sudden hard edge to his tone that snapped everything into sharp relief. "I'm not done with you fluffers." They both turned as if drawn by Wade's commanding voice, clearly sensing that the mercenary was a more dangerous threat on a base, instinctual level. "Yeah that's right." Peter watched with wide eyes as Wade took control of the situation, spreading his arms out to either side in the picture of relaxed confidence. "Hit me with your best shot!" Peter's breath caught in his throat, apprehension sinking into his stomach as Wade cheerfully sang out the line. "Fire away!"

Before he could move, the men were shooting. Wade staggered back as the bullets ripped through his chest and stomach.

"Deadpool!" Peter yelled, anger and panic making his voice tight as he hurried to web the men's guns away and tie the criminals down against the side of one of the cars. "What the fuck?" He leapt to the ground and darted to Wade's side.

"Wowie! That'll wake you up in the morning, won't it? Mhm, you're probably right." Wade poked analytically at one of the holes in his chest. "Fuckin' dry cleaners is out now."

Peter rushed to pull his hand away, not wanting him to aggravate the injuries more. "Are you okay?" He asked urgently, mouth going dry as he saw the excessive amount of blood wetting the front of Wade's suit.

Wade brushed him off. "Totally fine, sweet cheeks. You know me!" He turned away to open the trunk of the closest SUV and started rifling around inside. "Nothing can bring me down. Hey look! Cocaine!" He pulled out a brick-sized package of duct-taped plastic that appeared to contain, well, cocaine. Either that or powdered sugar, but Peter wasn't going to get his hopes up on that one.

Peter's mouth twisted into a frown, anger rapidly taking over fear as it became clear that Wade was going to be just fine. "Why the hell did you do that?"

Wade tore open the package and white powder exploded all over himself, the car, and the surrounding area. "Oh em gee it's snowing!"

Peter gritted his teeth in frustration, struggling to remain patient as he stepped out of the blast-zone to avoid getting any illicit drugs on his suit. "Pool." He snapped, trying to get Wade's attention. "That was completely unnecessary."

"Yeah but it was fun! Come on Spidey, snow angels!" Wade shook the last of the cocaine out onto the ground before tossing the empty bag aside and reaching into the trunk for another. Peter moved back in to catch Wade's wrist, stopping him before he could make more of a mess for the poor police to clean up when they finally got here. He held his breath, because he had no idea whether the fabric of his suit filtered out harmful compounds and he would rather not consume any drugs, even if his metabolism made it so he couldn't get high. He pulled Wade away and tried to ignore the unpleasant sight of blood soaking through the powered cocaine on his suit.

"No, Wade." He muttered, deeming them sufficiently out of earshot from the tied down dealers. "Why would you let yourself get shot like this? That was totally avoidable."

Wade shrugged, masked face turned away as he clearly looked around for something else to distract him. "Can't die. Why not?"

Peter swallowed a sigh, exasperated beyond words. He'd had this argument with Wade time and time again, and it was starting to feel pointless. Repetitive. Hopeless. Every time he told the mercenary that he didn't want him to get hurt, that he shouldn't have to feel so much pain just because he knew he would heal, Wade just shook it off with an infuriating air of indifference and continued to behave as recklessly as possible.

It had been two weeks since Norman Osborn died. Two weeks since… Since Peter killed him. He hadn't been able to stay off the streets of New York for more than a couple of days, knowing that people needed him, and Wade had accompanied him on patrol every night since then.

Things felt different now. Victims ran away before Peter could call the police, clearly frightened of him. Some criminals laid down their weapons and surrendered as soon as they saw him. While that made Spider-Man's job easier, it left Peter with a bitter taste in his mouth and a knot in his stomach. He didn't want people to be afraid of him. And Wade was different, too. He still worked well with Peter, joked around a lot, and he hadn't killed or seriously injured anyone. But he was… more scattered. Unpredictable. And more than anything else, reckless.

Two nights ago, he let a strung-out mugger slice his stomach open with a kitchen knife. Three days before that he jumped off a roof instead of using the fire escape and broke one of his legs. Last week he'd been shot, stabbed, and run over by a taxi. Every time it happened, Peter felt like his stomach might drop out of his body, but Wade didn't seem to care. And what baffled Peter the most was that he was doing it all on purpose. He had to be. It would be so easy for Wade, for Deadpool to avoid these stupid injuries; Peter had seen what he could do, and he knew the man was not trying. Not even a little bit.

"The cops are coming." Peter murmured dejectedly, letting go of Wade's wrist to turn and make his way out of the shipping yard.

Wade skipped after him, seeming completely unaffected by the hero's mood as he sang obnoxiously. "Bad boys, bad boys! Whatcha gonna do when they come for you? Bad boys, bad boys!"

Peter resisted the urge to rub at his tired eyes as he lead the way back to the grimy streets of the city, not wanting to transfer any cocaine from his hands to his mask. He hadn't been sleeping well, to say the least. His worry over Wade's behavior was only one of several concerns keeping him up at night. Harry was not doing well, and the guilt over killing his father was eating Peter alive. No matter what Wade said, Peter knew that he was responsible for Norman's death, and it was difficult to wrap his head around taking a human life. He'd experienced death plenty, not just as Spider-Man, but as Peter too. His parents and Uncle Ben had taught him a lot about the subject. Being the one to cause that was… Nearly incomprehensible. The public's opinion of him was only deteriorating as time passed, and he was constantly on edge waiting for Tony to show up unexpectedly and demand that he return his Spider-Man suit. And he missed Wade.

God, he missed Wade.

He hadn't seen Wade as Peter since the mercenary rejected him the day the Green Goblin died. Being around Deadpool, and only Deadpool, for two weeks made Peter ache to see his face again. To spend time with sweet, insecure, kind Wade Wilson. Not that Wade wasn't those things when he was Deadpool, but he was… different. Just, different. He wanted Peter and Wade back. Because Spider-Man and Deadpool were something else.

But Wade didn't want Peter. He wanted Spider-Man, and Peter was doing everything he could to convince himself that that was alright. Wade deserved the hero, not the nerdy kid who screwed up everything he touched.

Wade had been chattering nonstop to himself (and the boxes) ever since they left the docks, so Peter wasn't paying much attention to what he was saying. It wasn't until the mercenary grabbed him by the hips, tugging him unexpectedly into a dark alcove beside a fire escape, that he realized Wade had been talking to him for a while.

"So whaddya say, Baby Boy. You wanna give these walls somethin' to talk about?" Peter's breath rushed out of his lungs in a huff as Wade pushed him up against the side of the building, his suit catching slightly on the edges of the bricks. "The shadows like to whisper, y'know." He leaned in close, voice lowering as his masked lips skimmed up the curve of Peter's jaw. "We could start some rumors…"

Peter took a slow, hitching breath, trying to ignore the heat that shot through his body when Wade loomed over him like this, caging him in. He tipped his head back, trying to get enough space to breathe a bit of Wade-free air. "Wade…" He warned, one hand rising to push half-heartedly at a broad, hard bicep. "You're covered in blood and fucking cocaine." He meant to be firm, but his voice betrayed him, coming out breathy and weak.

He could tell Wade was grinning as he raised one hand to finger the edge of Peter's mask, tugging at it teasingly as his other hand pressed the hero's hips more firmly into the wall. "Aw, come on Spidey… We both wear red for a reason." He slid one thigh forward, nudging Peter's legs apart and slotting into the space between, catching Peter's muffled gasp on his thumb as it swiped along the younger man's lower lip. "Yeah. Blends right in."

He bent forward, both of their masks having somehow gotten pulled up to expose their mouths, and Peter barely managed to tilt his head further back, swallowing a whine and avoiding Wade's lips as they landed on the slope of his neck instead. "My suit is… Um, supposed to be p-patriotic." Peter mumbled distractedly, fingers curling subconsciously around Wade's arm to hold him there instead of push him away.

"Is that so, little spider?" Wade's voice was a rough hum, a purr, and it vibrated across Peter's throat like a prayer. And then Wade's body was pressing into his, hot and hard, contact like fire from thigh to shoulder, and his teeth were nipping at the edge of his jaw, sharp and demanding. And Peter melted, giving in with a soft whimper as Wade finally found his mouth and pillaged it thoroughly with his clever tongue.

It always happened this way.

Peter didn't necessarily want to break public indecency laws, especially not when he was out as Spider-Man, but he had no will power when it came to Wade. He would try to be good, but he and Wade always ended up making out in dark alleyways like sex-starved teenagers anyway. Making out and sometimes… Other things. And he pretended to be reluctant, but Wade knew how much he wanted it. Needed it. No matter how much Peter might protest, he never used the color codes, and their safe word never passed his lips.

They hadn't been back to Wade's apartment since that night they almost… And although Wade now felt free to shove his hand down the back of Peter's pants and slip a finger between the tight globes of his ass to tease at his entrance (which always drove Peter crazy and made him come embarrassingly quickly), they hadn't gone any further than that. And Peter knew that was good, no matter how much he ached for Wade. When they were together. Apart. All the time.

It was like an insatiable hunger. A fire that never went out, only flared brighter and hotter whenever Wade touched him, until it consumed Peter from the inside out. It was what turned him into a moaning, begging mess, Wade's name falling obscenely from his lips as the mercenary sought the seam in his suit and worked one gloved hand between them, slipping into Peter's pants to wrap his fingers around the base of his dick.

"Fuck… Yes, yes Wade…" Peter's head fell back against the bricks with a soft thud, one hand pulling at Wade's arm while the other grasped onto a katana strap, holding on for dear life. "Please." He tried to keep his words as quiet as possible, his breath fanning out into the warm air in soft panting bursts. Wade's lips were on his throat again, sucking marks into his pale, unblemished skin, and his hard length was pressing firmly against Peter's hip.

"Love it when you ask so nicely, Baby Boy…" Wade murmured against his neck, leather-covered fingers stroking carefully but quickly up Peter's shaft. "When you beg for me." Peter bit down on his lower lip, muffling an uncontrollable moan as Wade set up an almost harsh pace. It was quick and rough and dirty, and Peter could feel himself unravelling with each tug of the mercenary's hand.

It didn't take long. Wade knew just how to twist his wrist, just where to use his lips, his teeth, and one well timed bite to the juncture of Peter's neck and shoulder had the boy spilling over his knuckles with a short whimper. He slowed down quickly, taking his cue from Peter's shuddering body as the friction of his glove became overstimulating. He removed his hand with a soft hum of approval and lifted his fingers to his mouth, eye patches meeting Peter's as he slowly, lewdly licked off a bit of the sticky substance that stained the leather.

Peter groaned as an aftershock of arousal shot through his stomach, shoving at Wade's shoulder until the man leaned back far enough to let him off the wall. He immediately sank to his knees, leaving Wade to brace himself against the side of the building, towering over him as Peter's deft fingers sought out the zipper on his pants. He'd gotten much better at locating the opening now, and he knew just where to slip under the thick leather belt to find the little tab of metal he had grown to crave.

"Oh, fuck…" Wade moaned, suddenly sounding breathless and wrecked as Peter unzipped his pants and slid one hand inside, fingers curling around the thick, hard length of Wade's cock. Peter pulled it out, careful not to let any sensitive skin catch on the zipper, and took a deep breath as warm desire trickled through his veins like honey. He'd sucked Wade's dick a few times since the night in his apartment, and it was an activity he'd quickly grown to enjoy. Dream of, even. Wade clearly got off on Peter touching him in any way, but he absolutely fell apart when the hero used his mouth.

Peter looked up the long planes of Wade's body to watch his mouth fall open as he slowly, teasingly circled the head of Wade's dick with his tongue. He was still trying things out, methodically testing which moves sent shudders down Wade's spine, which made him moan and pant like an animal, and which made him whimper, biting down on his soft bottom lip to keep the broken sounds inside while his whole body shook. He held the base of Wade's length steady with one hand and prodded his hole gently with the tip of his tongue, watching the mercenary grit his teeth around a moan, his hands curling into fists against the wall. "Fuck, Spidey… You- Oh, god…"

Peter loved it when Wade could no longer form coherent sentences. He slid his free hand up above the mercenary's belt, fingers splaying over the hard surface of his abs as he wrapped his lips around the head of Wade's cock. He sucked lightly, hollowing his cheeks as he slid further down, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Wade's length gliding heavy and warm across his tongue. Wade let out a low, breathy whine as his hips twitched forward, and Peter shivered in pleasure, heat settling in his stomach with a deep satisfaction.

He loved that he could make Wade feel this way. He craved it. Needed it. It made him feel… important, and cared for. Wanted. He felt closest to Wade in moments like these, felt like it was totally fine that Wade didn't want Peter, because Spider-Man could give him this. Wade needed Spider-Man.

Spider-Man pulled back slightly and sunk down again, taking more of Wade into his mouth. He set up a gentle rhythm, swiping his tongue across Wade's cockhead on each stroke to taste the rich flavor that leaked from his tip. He tried to work his way down as far as he could without choking himself (he'd held off on that since the first time he'd tried and made himself gag on Wade's dick), but his jaw was beginning to protest and he'd barely taken more than half of Wade's length.

Wade was panting heavily, small grunts of pleasure falling from his parted lips each time Peter took him down, and his hips jerked instinctively forward with each bob of the hero's head. Deciding to use a trick he'd learned last time, Peter used the hand that was wrapped around Wade's base to stroke up over the length he couldn't reach with his tongue, pumping Wade in time with the movements of his mouth. The effect was instantaneous, Wade's hips thrusting forward into his hand as the mercenary shuddered, a long moan breaking free from his throat. "Oh shit fuck yes Baby Boy oh my god…"

Peter hummed around Wade's cock, bobbing his head and stroking his hand more enthusiastically as he picked up the pace. He could tell Wade was close, and when he accidentally scraped his teeth up the underside of the mercenary's length, Wade gasped and tensed up, one hand flying down to tug urgently at the back of Peter's mask.

Peter made a split-second decision, sinking his mouth down on Wade's dick instead of pulling off. He hadn't done this before, but he was curious. Not to mention he kind of wanted to avoid a mess since he'd already had to wash his suit four times this week. Wade turned his head to muffle a broken cry against his arm, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as his cock pulsed against Peter's tongue. A moment later, hot liquid was spilling into Peter's mouth, trickling down the edges of his throat. He whimpered at the sensation, swallowing the thick substance as the taste overwhelmed his senses, salty and earthy.

When Wade was finished, Peter carefully slid his mouth off, taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart, and wiped the back of one hand across his spit-slick lips. "Holy shit." Wade murmured above him, stroking his hand down the back of Peter's head. "That was… Fuck." He pushed off the wall, still looking a little shaky, and tucked himself back into his pants. "Are you, um, okay?"

Peter nodded as he stood up, swallowing against the slightly unpleasant feeling of cum coating his throat, like he couldn't get it all down. It felt dirty. Like Wade had marked him. Claimed him. And the thought of Wade being inside him like that had lust and pleasure twisting in his gut again. He tangled his fingers in Wade's katana straps and leaned in to murmur against his neck. "My knees are kind of sore now…"

Wade groaned, low and filthy. "Fuck." His hands landed on Peter's hips and he pushed the boy into the wall again, crowding up against him as he lowered his head to capture the hero's mouth in a slow, lascivious kiss. Peter whimpered into it, his whole body melting against Wade's. "Oh, Baby Boy…" Wade broke off with a gentle nip to Peter's bottom lip, trailing kisses down his neck until he could trace his tongue over the spot he'd bitten earlier. "Wish I could just take you home and fuck you senseless."

Peter gasped, a burst of hot arousal washing over his whole body as his hips pushed forward, pressing his renewed hard-on against Wade's thigh. "Mm…" Wade hummed against his shoulder, fingers squeezing tighter at his hips for a moment. "Fuck yeah, I do." But then he was pulling away slightly, raising one hand to swipe his thumb across Peter's jaw. "It's getting late." He planted a soft kiss on Peter's cheek. "You got school tomorrow, don't you?"

Peter swallowed, disappointment sinking into his limbs as he pushed back his arousal. "Yeah." He admitted, slowly unwrapping his fingers from around Wade's straps and sliding his hands down to the mercenary's waist instead. "I guess we should, uh, call it a night."

Wade nodded, stepping back out of their little alcove to let Spidey off the wall. Peter resisted the urge to shiver as the older man's body heat was taken away, the only slightly cooler night air rushing in to take his place. He took a deep breath, stepping out beside the mercenary and glancing around the empty alleyway, and tried to ignore the vaguely restless, lost feeling that was settling in his chest again.

He and Wade had been okay, and Peter told himself that nothing had really changed. They still patrolled, joked around, fucked around, Wade was still sweet and considerate and worshiped the ground Spidey walked on. Even if Peter was distracted sometimes and Wade was being stupidly reckless, nothing was really different. But it felt like… Like they were in a holding pattern. Waiting for something. But Peter didn't know what and he didn't know how to fix it. If it even needed fixing.

He shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind and grabbed onto the edge of Wade's collar, pulling him down for a quick, light kiss. "Goodnight, then." He mumbled against Wade's mouth before pulling away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night, Spidey." Wade replied, giving him a parting pat on the ass as Peter rolled down his mask and shot a web towards the top of the building they'd just used as cover for messing around.

Peter swung away, feeling like he could breathe better with the city air rushing past him, filling his ears and cushioning his body. He'd been enjoying swinging home lately. It was the only time he could empty his head and just…

Not think.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter had trouble staying awake on the subway ride to school the next morning, eyelids heavy and limbs aching from another night of tossing and turning. He found his thoughts wandering to Wade, as they were prone to do more often than not these days. He wondered how Wade was. How Wade was, because he felt like he hadn't seen him in two weeks. He couldn't keep himself from worrying, hoping that he was alright. That he wasn't… Upset about Peter at all.

And why would he be? It had become increasingly clear since that night that he didn't really care about silly little Peter Parker. Sure, maybe they'd been friends. But not more than that. Not even close friends. And as much as that realization felt like a jagged shard of ice slicing into Peter's heart, he knew that it was true. Despite how blind he could be to certain things, Peter was usually a pretty smart kid. It hadn't taken much for him to piece it together from what Wade told Spider-Man; he had used Peter to hack into Oscorp's system. He probably used a flash drive; it wouldn't have been hard to slip it into the back of Peter's computer when he wasn't looking.

Peter wasn't mad. Wade hadn't hurt anyone, and he'd been nothing but kind to Peter. He even came over for dinner after that, with no obligation and nothing to gain, and was more polite to Aunt May than Peter had ever thought he could be. He treasured those times they had together… Even if Wade had an ulterior motive. Even if he had never really liked Peter.

He tipped his head over to rest his forehead against the grimy train window, watching the tunnel lights flash by with lidded eyes. He shivered slightly and crossed his arms, holding his backpack to his chest, jacket sleeves pulled down over his hands. It felt like he had a black hole in his stomach, sucking the warmth out of him. He missed Wade. And it hurt.

But he had bigger things to worry about, so he shoved that aching hole deep inside and buried it beneath his other problems, focusing on something else. Like Harry.

Peter felt responsible for his friend. Was responsible for him, for the pain he was in and the heavy burden that now lay on his young shoulders. He was devoted to making it better, however he could, because he owed that to Harry. He felt indebted to him, ever since the day after his father died, when he held Harry while he cried in bed the entire day, only falling asleep when his sobs had exhausted him. It broke Peter's heart to see him like that, so shattered. More than killing Norman, more than taking a man's life from the world, Peter could never forgive himself for doing that to Harry.

Harry had not been doing well since then. He didn't come to school for more than a week, and Peter knew that he hadn't left his penthouse until three days after it happened. Peter couldn't blame him. Not only had he lost his father, who was his only family no matter how strained their relationship had been, but he was now responsible for an entire multi-billion-dollar company. And he was only eighteen.

All the bad press surrounding the circumstances of Norman's death was making everything even worse. The public may fear Spider-Man now, but they hated Norman Osborn. He was being demonized as a super-villain, a crazed terrorist who used his wealth and position to gain powers beyond his natural ability. There was a lot of speculation as to the why of it all, and many news outlets had tried to launch investigations into Oscorp, but none had yet succeeded in turning up any real information. Harry was now forced to work with the board on the vicious legal battle surrounding how much access would be granted to the police and the media. Countless injunctions had stalled any searches of Oscorp or Osborn property, but it was only a matter of time before the police would be digging into the whole situation.

It was a lot for a kid who hadn't even finished high school to handle. Peter was trying his best to help, going over to Harry's almost every day after school and offering himself however he could be useful, but all he could really be for Harry was a shoulder to cry on. It wasn't enough. Harry was fraying around the edges, falling apart a little more each day, and Peter felt entirely too helpless as he watched it happen.

He went through his first few classes in a fog. His grades were slipping, his performance suffering, and if he wasn't careful then this would be his first semester ever graduating with less than straight A's. He could hardly make himself care. He was relieved to see Harry in the hallway outside the cafeteria at lunch, not sure if he would be in school that day. (Harry was usually too busy to text Peter back these days, but he didn't mind.)

"Hey." He greeted the older boy quietly, laying his hand on Harry's arm as he stopped beside him. Harry turned to face him, tucking his phone back into his pocket, and Peter's breath caught in his throat. There were dark circles under the senior's eyes, his hair was limp and ragged, and his cheekbones stood out even more than usual, making Peter worry that he wasn't eating. Even his sky-blue eyes were darker, greyer, like they'd been taken over by clouds.

"Hey." Harry muttered back, gaze darting around the crowded hallway like he was on edge, anxious. "Could we skip out on lunch?"

Peter nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course." MJ would wonder where they were, but Peter could explain later. She'd understand. She'd been helpful too, coming over to Harry's place a couple of times with Peter. Harry seemed to appreciate the support, but it was fairly clear that he didn't really want to be around anyone but Peter, sticking to his side and barely speaking to anyone else. MJ had been really nice about it, quietly fading into the background when it seemed like she wasn't needed. She was a great friend.

"C'mon." Harry took hold of Peter's hand, leading him towards the side doors. His fingers were cold against Peter's skin, his grip tight. They made their way outside into the warmer air. It was the beginning of May and the weather was beautiful, not a cloud in sight as the sun streamed down on the Midtown campus.

Harry took them to his car, unlocking it as they approached, and opened the back door. He stepped aside to let Peter slide in before he followed, closing the door and collapsing against Peter with a heavy sigh. His forehead fell to the younger boy's shoulder, his hands gripping lightly at Peter's t-shirt. It was hot inside the car, but Harry's skin felt like ice.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked gently as he wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders.

Harry made a small, noncommittal sound that was neither a positive nor a negative response. They sat like that for a minute, neither of them speaking again until Harry sat up, breaking Peter's hold on him to rub tiredly at his eyes. "Wish I didn't have to come to school." He muttered. "More important shit to take care of."

Peter nodded sympathetically. "At least you're almost done. You just have to finish all your credits. Want me to come over today and help with your homework?" He knew Harry wouldn't take offense; Peter had always been the nerd beside Harry's rich playboy persona.

Harry just hummed vaguely, staring blankly out the front windshield, eyes hazy and far away. Peter waited a few seconds before he lay one hand on Harry's knee, trying to pull his attention back from wherever it had wondered off to. He startled slightly, gaze flickering back to Peter's face before he sighed, an exasperated huff of air passing through his lips.

"It's just so…" He choked off the words, looking ahead again. His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. "So fucking unfair." Peter blinked in surprise at the anger in his voice, the livid fury that had entered his eyes.

"What is?" He asked quietly. He knew this was all unfair, but he wanted to know exactly what Harry was talking about.

Harry made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, throwing his head back to shake the hair off his forehead. "Spider-Man." He spat the name like it was poison, and Peter froze, his heart lurching in his chest.

"How come he's not getting punished for what he did?" Harry asked, voice almost shaking with the force of his rage. "Someone needs to demand justice. Unmask him and throw him in jail." His eyes shone with a manic glare as his mouth twisted into an ugly, bitter smile. "See how he likes being locked up with all those criminals he put away."

A chill ran down Peter's spine and he had to suppress a shiver, caught off guard by the undeniable warning. He stared, wide-eyed and shocked, his pulse thrumming in his ears as he tried to process what he was hearing. He swallowed hard, tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't find the words.

The tension seemed to drain out of Harry's body all at once, his chin tipping forward and eyes falling shut as his expression melted into a sad exhaustion. "It's just… Not fair."

Peter took a shaky breath, reminding himself that his friend was really hurting right now. And he wasn't wrong. Spider-Man had made a mistake, and his actions should have consequences. "I know." He whispered, taking Harry's hands in his. "I'm so sorry."

"I just… Why did he have to do that?" Harry sounded helpless, broken. "Why did he have to unmask him for the whole fucking world to see?" Peter frowned, unaware that this was what had been bothering Harry the most. "He made my father a joke." He pulled his hands from Peter's grip and ran thin fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. "Now his memory, his legacy is shit. All he built… All of it, blown to shit by this one stupid mistake."

Peter pressed his lips together, knowing now was not the right time to argue that what Norman did was a lot more than a stupid mistake.

Harry gazed out the window again, the light faded from his eyes, leaving them dull and blank. "I hate him." He stated simply, unaware that those words caused a sharp, cold pain beneath Peters ribs.

They sat in silence for a long minute, each one lost in his own thoughts and misery. But Peter didn't deserve to wallow; he needed to do something for Harry. Try to distract him, at least. So he took a deep breath and nudged Harry's knee with his own. "Hey." He waited for Harry to look at him, but it didn't happen. "Um, you know graduation prep is starting. Have you picked up your robes yet?"

Harry shrugged, clearly distracted.

Peter ran his tongue over his lips and tried to think of something else. "You decided on Columbia, right? Will the board be able to appoint a temporary CEO while you go to school?" They'd discussed the possibility briefly a couple of days ago, but Harry hadn't mentioned it since.

"Don't know." Harry murmured, hand drifting into his pocket to pull out his phone. He checked the time. "I think I'm gonna ditch the rest of the day and go to the bank. There's a lot of paperwork I need to deal with."

"Oh… Yeah, okay." Peter fought back a frown, knowing that Harry had more important things to do than sit through a few more classes. "Want me to come over later?"

Harry shook his head, not looking at Peter. "Don't know when I'll get home. Might be late."

Peter looked at him closely, worried by the detached tone in his voice. But he knew the last thing Harry needed right now was to be forced to talk, so he resigned himself to just saying, "Okay. Text me if you need anything, alright?"

Harry nodded. "Thanks." He reached for the door but paused, turning to finally meet Peter's eyes. "Really. Thanks, Petey." He leaned in and planted a soft, tender kiss on Peter's cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Peter smiled shakily, his stomach clenching. "Whenever you need me." He reiterated, reaching out to give Harry's hand a squeeze before the older boy was opening the back door and letting them out.

He stood in the sunlight, hands shoved into his pockets, and watched Harry peel out of his parking spot and drive away from the school.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Peter peered nervously around the Oscorp lobby as he made his way towards the elevators. He hadn't been here since Norman died, and part of him had expected to find the entire company shut down, although he knew that wasn't realistic. Everything seemed to be operating normally, as unsettling as that was. He'd been prepared to be turned away when he showed his ID at the door, unsure about the status of his internship since he hadn't come in for two weeks, but the security guard had simply nodded him inside.

So he made his way downstairs to his office, glancing surreptitiously at each camera he passed and feeling more like a criminal than an employee. Because today he wasn't coming here to work. He'd thought a lot about what Wade told him, and he knew that he needed to see it for himself. He needed to know exactly what Norman had been doing, and maybe then he'd know why. If he had no reason, if he really was just evil, then maybe… Maybe Peter would feel a little less guilty about what happened.

He slipped into his office, trying to look as normal as possible, and sat down at his desk to boot his computer up. There was only one camera in this room, but it faced the computer screen. Peter shifted his chair over, careful to get the angle right so his head would partially block the monitor, and started to hack into Oscorp's servers before he could lose his nerve. It took almost three minutes to get the security feeds up for this floor of the building, and he quickly set up a video loop, running the last two minutes over on repeat so no new footage would be recorded. He took a deep breath, pausing just long enough to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans.

"No going back now…" He muttered to himself. If he got caught, he wouldn't just lose this internship. He would be arrested and undoubtedly charged, unless Harry got him off (and Peter really didn't want to make his friend deal with that, let alone explain why he'd been hacking Oscorp's system in the first place).

He swallowed back his nerves and set to work pulling up the secure files from the server that Norman Osborn used, figuring the CEO's personal computers would have all the information Peter was searching for. There were a lot of files to sift through. Peter settled for skimming, waiting for his eye to catch on anything that seemed illegal, amoral, or otherwise evil. Five minutes in, he clicked on a folder titled "Excelsis."

He opened the first subfolder, "exp. 3-25," and found a list of video files. He clicked on the first one.

"Oh god." Peter's hand flew to cover his mouth, tears springing to his eyes as he watched. It was… gruesome. Maybe the worst thing he'd ever seen done to another person. He couldn't finish, and closed the window after a minute and a half. He felt sick.

"Oh my god." Wade was right. He'd been right all along. A person who could do that to another human being didn't deserve Peter's pity. Or his mercy.

He backed out of the folder and started going through the other files that were part of "Excelsis," relieved to find no other videos in his cursory examination of what was there. He opened progress reports from the month of March, eyes skimming over formulas and numbers, notes dictated in the margins of chemical diagrams. Some of it went over his head, but he could follow a lot. He could tell when they finished developing this serum they were making, an official formula released on March 19th for replication. It appeared to heighten natural human abilities like strength, reflexes, speed and stamina, and intelligence. There were no notes on side effects.

Something was bothering Peter, itching at the edges of his mind. He squinted at the screen, looking more closely at the formula. Those numbers, they looked… Familiar.

Horror crept through his veins ahead of the realization, a slow sense of terrible foreboding causing the blood to drain from his face. "Oh…" No. No no no. This was… It was Peter's work. It was the solution he'd worked out weeks ago. It was…

He found himself bent over, head between his knees without knowing how he got there. He thought he might throw up, his breath coming heavy and uneven, vision blurry. It was his fault. It was all his fault. All of it.

He gasped for breath and clutched at the edges of the desk. "No." He couldn't… deal with that right now. He needed to finish. Finish and get the fuck out of here before he fell apart. He blinked the tears from his eyes, wiping impatiently at his cheeks with one sleeve before he started typing again.

He found a folder titled "GG" and opened it with gritted teeth. Sketches and blueprints, plans, all of it. The Goblin's suit and hover board (apparently called a Goblin Glider), his pumpkin bombs and bat-shaped throwing knives. It was all here. And a document tracking Norman Osborn's use of the serum; he had taken 10 milligrams every day and noted the effects. Peter read with increasing dismay as he tracked the rapid development of Norman's superhuman abilities. They seemed to get stronger every day, but after about a week and a half there were… Other changes. Norman reported feeling paranoid, on edge, his heart-rate accelerated constantly. He mentioned racing thoughts and mood disturbances. Then four days later any mention of side effects disappeared. He wrote instead about increasing strength and intelligence, almost ranting about his dominance over other humans, his rise to superiority. It read like the disorganized journal of a narcissistic sociopath.

Peter closed out the folder with a bitter taste in his mouth. Clearly, the serum had driven Norman mad. Even madder than he had been. Suddenly, a terrible thought occurred to Peter.

How much of this did Harry know?

None, Peter immediately answered himself. Harry wouldn't have allowed any of this to happen if he'd known. He would have tried to stop it. But still… He had to know for sure.

A few seconds of typing pulled up a list of computers that had ever accessed this information. Norman Osborn, many names that Peter recognized from the board of trusties, and dozens of computers in the research and development department. But not Harry Osborn. Of course, there were ways to access information without leaving a digital footprint, as Peter was doing now, but he seriously doubted that Harry would know any of those skills, let alone bother to use them. He breathed a sigh of relief, not having realized how nervous he'd been until his stomach unclenched from the tight knot it had been tangled in.

Peter felt like he'd seen enough. He was preparing to close out of all the files he'd accessed, skimming one more time through the folder names, when something caught his eye. "DP." He clicked on the video file, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and was suddenly watching what was clearly security footage timestamped just over two weeks ago.

His breath caught in his throat as he watched Wade, dressed in his Deadpool suit, slinking silently down a back staircase. He reached for the volume, desperate to have all the information he could, but there was no sound with the video. He watched closely as Wade stopped outside the locked doors to the research floor. He took something off his belt and held it up to the card reader, and a moment later the light blinked from red to green. He pulled open the door and went inside.

The camera view switched to follow Wade, and a small sound of distress climbed up Peter's throat as he watched the mercenary stand frozen outside a row of what were clearly cells, staring through the windows at the people inside.

Peter's hands were curled into fists on his thighs and he was leaning towards the screen, holding his breath as Wade ducked unnoticed into one of the labs. He stood there in the middle of the room, stock still for almost thirty seconds, every line of his body rigid with tension. Then a door on the opposite end of the lab swung open and two men in white lab coats walked in, holding clipboards and talking to each other. They froze at the sight of Deadpool, and for a long moment nobody moved.

Then Wade… Snapped. He moved faster than Peter would have thought possible, closing the distance between them in less than a second and before the scientists could react, before Peter could blink, two long, bright gashes stretched from their hips to shoulders. Wade swept past them, katanas in hand, and their bodies crumpled heavily to the ground, pools of blood quickly spreading around them.

Peter gaped, horrified, unable to look away. The camera view switched from room to room, following Deadpool's movements. Wade slaughtered them, one after another, with absolutely no hesitation. He was… viciously deadly. He moved through the whole floor, seeking them out and opening them up, every single one. It took hardly any time at all. All that death and it was over in… less than two minutes. There were dozens of bodies.

Then there were guards rushing in, in full tactical gear, and Peter watched as Wade sheathed one blood-soaked sword and drew a large pistol from his hip.

He reached out and closed the video file with a short whimper, finding his fingers numb. He couldn't… Watch that. He couldn't…

Wade did that. Wade… It was awful. It was as bad as… He killed them. Knowing, abstractly, that Wade killed people was one thing. But seeing it… Seeing that. Peter wasn't sure how to… He didn't know what to do with that.

It was unacceptable.

He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus, pulling himself back into now. And as he closed out of the files and backed out of the servers, restarting the camera feeds and logging out of his account, Peter's focus returned with a razor-sharp edge. Suddenly, he was furious.

He needed to see Wade.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was early to suit up, the sun still sitting low on the horizon, bathing the city in warm golden light, but Peter found himself swinging through Manhattan as Spider-Man around seven in the evening. He didn't even bother keeping an ear out for signs of crime. He was on a mission.

He checked every run-down apartment Wade had ever taken him to, peering in the windows and knocking on the glass, but every single one was dark and empty. He couldn't make himself check the nice building that was close to Oscorp, the one where… He figured Wade wouldn't be there anyway; it had seemed very unlived in, unlike all the others. He was sure Deadpool had other places in the city, probably many, so it wasn't surprising that he didn't have any luck tracking him down, even if it was disappointing.

The longer he searched, the more his anger grew, dark and bitter, choking him. Wade had lied to him. Lied by omission, at the very least. He'd lead Peter to believe that he hadn't been killing anymore. They'd never explicitly discussed it, but Peter had thought… Wade had acted like Spider-Man's rules were something he believed in. Something worth making an effort for. But then he turned around and slaughtered dozens of people in cold blood. Somehow, Peter thought that might be even worse than finding out that Wade was still taking mercenary jobs.

And hell, maybe he was still taking jobs. Maybe he hadn't really changed at all. Maybe he was just putting up a front, playing an act, so he could keep seeing Spider-Man. And that left Peter with a sickening dilemma: If Wade was killing behind his back, could he continue whatever the two of them had going?

The sudden nauseous, dizzying ache in Peter's gut forced him to stumble to a stop on a rooftop, his throat closing up in a terrible desperate panic. No. No, he couldn't stop seeing Wade. Just the thought made him feel like he was dying.

But he was still mad, and he had every intention of giving Wade a piece of his mind when he managed to track him down. He was making a second round through all of the mercenary's known apartments when he finally did spot him, climbing out of a window in his Deadpool suit.

Peter swung himself down, landing aggressively on the edge of the fire escape with a soft metallic thud. "Deadpool." He managed, voice tight with barely restrained tension as he called for the mercenary's attention.

To his credit, Wade hardly looked surprised to see him there. He waved casually to the hero while he slid the window shut behind him. "Hello, my little arachnid friend! Fancy meeting you here. Isn't it a bit early for spiders to be out hunting?"

Peter ground his teeth together, trying to keep his cool against the roiling fury churning inside him. "We need to talk."

Wade stared at him for a long moment, masked expression torturously blank. "No, it doesn't." He muttered to himself before crossing his arms over his chest. "Is this a potential breakup song?" He was trying to keep his tone light, but Peter could hear the anxiety underneath. "Cause baby, I'm not livin' till I'm livin', livin' with you."

"What? No." Peter hopped off the railing onto the main platform and stalked past Wade to shove his window back open. "Let's talk inside."

Wade didn't move for several seconds, his body thrumming with apprehension. For one wild moment, Peter wondered if he was going to run away. But then the mercenary uncrossed his arms with a grunt and ducked to climb back through his window, muttering agitatedly the whole way. "What, fire escape talks aren't good enough for you anymore? I'm hurt, Spidey. I'm literally hurt."

Wade's social coping mechanisms were soothing Peter against his will. He was starting to feel like he could take deep breaths without wanting to punch something, but a part of him wanted to hold on to that righteous anger. What Deadpool did, what Wade did, was wrong, and Peter couldn't just let him off the hook. And if he didn't blame Wade for killing those people, then… He'd have no one to blame but himself.

So he climbed gracefully inside and thought about what he'd seen in that video, letting the moral disgust crawl up his throat again. He followed Wade through a dark, cluttered bedroom and into the living room, which was also dark and messy. He stood by the couch while the mercenary made his way to the light switch and flipped it on, illuminating an alarming amount of trash, weaponry, and videogames. Wade then stationed himself in the middle of the room, arms crossing over his chest again and every muscle taught with readiness, like he was expecting a fight to break out at any moment. "Well?" He asked shortly.

Peter took a breath, not sure exactly how to start. "I know what you did at Oscorp." The words tumbled unbidden from his mouth, sharp and accusing. He watched Wade for some sort of reaction, but the man just stood there, blank and unmoving, and Peter's fury flared again. "I know what you did to them. All those people." Still, he said nothing. Peter strode forward, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You killed them, Wade." He was surprised by the color of betrayal in his own voice.

Wade's unflinching façade broke with a low growl. "Yeah, I fucking did." He leaned into Peter's space, menacing and dangerous. "What do you want me to do, apologize?" Peter's mouth fell open in shock. Wade turned away with a sound of disgust, stomping towards the kitchen to put some distance between them. "You don't know what they did, Spidey. You didn't see it."

"Yes, I did." He retorted, staring after Wade in disbelief. "But that's no excuse for such… Cruelty. You ended their lives. Cut them down in –"

"Cruelty?" Wade cut him off, whirling around to face him again, his voice chillingly sharp. "You think that was cruel? I was fucking merciful. No." He shook his head, his anger clearly mounting. "No, if I were going to be cruel, if I had given them what they really deserved, they would have been begging me for death." He started to pace. "See how they liked being strapped down to those tables, experimented on, played with… Put them in the cells and keep them alive for days. Weeks. A new game every day oh yes… I'm sure they would've liked that."

Peter watched with growing concern, trying to cling to his outrage in the face of Wade's distress. The things he was saying were… Disturbing to imagine. "Wade, stop." He resisted the urge to physically halt the mercenary's anxious pacing. "That's not the point. You can't just kill without asking questions. Or, fuck, even knowing who it is you're killing. It's not right."

"Fuck right." Wade was livid. "You didn't see what they were doing, Spidey."

"I did." He made his voice hard, demanding that Wade hear him.

Wade froze, turning his attention to Peter. There was a moment of tense silence. "How?"

Peter frowned, bitterness drowning in resigned sadness. "I snuck in and hacked their system, same as you did, I assume."

Wade's gaze didn't leave his face. "How did you get in?"

Oh. "I just… I just did." Peter sighed in frustration. "It doesn't matter. You lied to me."

"Nope. Didn't lie. Just didn't tell you." He dropped his chin to his chest and hissed under his breath. "They are too different."

"Why didn't you?" Peter demanded.

Wade threw his hands into the air. "Because we didn't want this to happen, obviously. Yeah, well it's too fucking late now, isn't it?" He abruptly turned and sunk down onto one arm of the couch, shoulders slumping as his whole body seemed to deflate. His voice was quieter, more pitiful when he spoke next. "Now you're going to kick me out of the city."

Peter stared, his anger draining away into confusion. "What?"

Wade took a small, shuddering breath, like he was trying to hold himself together. "You're going to make me leave, because I'm bad and I kill too many people."

Peter was stunned into silence for a moment. Then he let out the breath he'd been holding, tension draining from his muscles as he closed the distance between them and took one of Wade's gloved hands in his own. "No, I'm not. I'm not gonna kick you out."

The mercenary raised his head to look up at him, and Peter wished he could see Wade's eyes. "You mean… You're not leaving me?"

Peter felt like he might cry. "No, Wade. Of course not."

Before he knew what was happening, Peter found himself crushed to Wade's chest, strong arms wrapped around his back and the mercenary's face tucked into his shoulder. He couldn't help the flicker of a smile that crossed his lips as he wound his arms around Wade's neck. "I couldn't." He admitted quietly, and felt Wade's body shudder against his.

He allowed them to embrace for a few moments before pulling away slightly, trying to catch Wade's eye. "But I wish you wouldn't… Go on killing sprees, I guess."

Wade nodded slightly, gaze falling to the ground. "You want me to change." He stated dully.

"No." Peter shook his head. "I just want you to be…" He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Not me." Wade filled in, arms falling to his sides as he released Peter.

"No!" He took Wade's masked face in his hands and forced his gaze forward. "I l… Like you. Just the way you are, Wade. I want you to be careful, that's what I was going to say."

Wade looked at him for a moment. "Okay." He mumbled, not sounding entirely convinced, but he did bring his hands back up to Peter's waist, his touch a comforting warmth even through the suits.

"Okay."

They got tacos before they patrolled that night, using their extra time to sit on top of an office building and watch the sunset. It was romantic as hell and they couldn't resist rolling around on the rooftop for a while even though emotions had run high that evening. No matter what, Peter felt like he couldn't keep his hands off Wade, and he was glad that the lack of control seemed to go both ways.

They caught a group of carjackers, stopped two muggings and intercepted a drug deal. Overall, it was a pretty good night for crime fighting. Peter decided to head back home before eleven, hoping he could manage a few hours of sleep after he did his homework.

He was halfway there, getting close to where he usually crossed the East River, when a sharp tingle of warning shot down his spine. He moved instinctually, pulling out of a swing with a sharp jerk and sticking to the side of a building as something large rushed through the air where he'd just been.

Peter craned his head to look behind him, searching for what the thing was and where it had gone, but the street was empty. A few pedestrians walked along the sidewalk, cars drove by, but there was nothing in the air. He frowned to himself and began to climb the wall, figuring he would have a better view from the roof. Before he could get far, his spidey sense prickled at the back of his neck. He moved on instinct again, flipping off the building and landing in a crouch on the pavement several stories below.

He hurried to look up, and his blood ran cold when he saw what was attacking him. Who was attacking him.

The Green Goblin descended slowly on his goblin glider, his bulbous yellow eyes and gaping mouth pointed straight at Peter. And he couldn't breathe. Because this couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real.

Distantly, as if the volume had been turned down on the world, Peter could hear people screaming. Running away. So they must see him, other people could see him. Unless they were just that afraid of Spider-Man now.

He crouched, frozen, trying desperately to figure out how this could be happening, but his mind wasn't working. His thoughts were fuzzy. Blank. Only panic cut through the haze, the staccato beating of his heart, the rush of blood in his ears. The Goblin drew almost level with the ground, not more than three yards away, and Peter stared with wide eyes, uncomprehending.

He was seeing a ghost.

The ghost drew closer, and it spoke. "Spider-Man." The same distorted, nightmare voice came from its mouth, and Peter shuffled backwards involuntarily, seeking to maintain the distance between them. "I've been looking for you."

Peter sucked in a ragged, desperate gasp of air, his head reeling. This wasn't real. It couldn't be happening. But still, the Goblin drew closer.

"I have a message for you." He surged forward, a blur of green, and Peter let out an undignified squeak of fear as a fist closed around the front of his suit, dragging him up to his feet as that terrifying mask shoved close to his face. "You're going to pay for what you did." The rage in the Goblin's voice was clear even through the mechanic filter, but he didn't speak loudly. He leaned in until Peter thought that gaping mouth might touch him, consume him. "I thought of unmasking you for all the world to see. But no…" His words were petrifyingly soft. "I've come up with a better plan." His free hand landed on the back of Peter's neck, one thumb stroking slowly up his throat.

"I'm going to kill you."

Peter couldn't breathe. It wasn't real. It wasn't happening. Norman was dead. His head pounded and the edges of his vision went fuzzy, dark. He knew he should move, fight, but he couldn't. His muscles weren't working.

"Hey, police!" A shout from the street, breaking through the fog. "D-Drop that… Drop him right now!" The Goblin turned his head, looking towards the two cops who stood on the side of the road beside their police car, guns drawn. "Just back away."

The Goblin made a low, quiet sound, like a hiss, and turned back to Peter. "I'm coming for you." He promised, and let Peter go. He slumped to the ground, the impact jarring, and watched as the Green Goblin soared off into the night, disappearing within seconds. He was left wondering, for a moment, if it had even happened at all.

Peter had never passed out before. He came close once when he was twelve years old and had to have blood drawn at the doctor's office. He felt the same way now, light and dizzy and numb, like he wasn't fully in his body. He focused on the hard sidewalk beneath his hands and knees and tried to take deep breaths, clinging to consciousness.

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he could see one of the policemen approaching him, a hand extended. Peter jerked back to reality, forcing his body to move again as he shot a web and swung away. He needed to get as far from there as he could, as fast as possible. He went in a random direction, not caring where he ended up as long as it was away.

He checked constantly to see if he was being followed, paranoia buzzing across his skin, but he saw no one and his spidey sense was tauntingly silent. He wasn't sure how much time passed before he felt safe enough to stop on a rooftop, his heart still pounding and his thoughts racing, going nowhere fast. He had enough presence of mind to check himself all over for tracking devices before he made his way home.

He wanted to go to Wade's instead, craving the comfort and safety he could offer, but he was terrified. He was terrified that Wade would confirm the fear whispering at the back of his mind.

That Peter had imagined it all.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:
These Few Presidents – WHY?
Lyrics:
Hit Me With Your Best Shot – Pat Benatar
Bad Boys (Theme from Cops) – Inner Circle
Potential Breakup Song – Aly & AJ

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Hello my lovely readers! I wanted to let you all know that I may not continue to post on this website. I have continued my works on my AO3 account, and you are more than welcome (and encouraged, in fact) to read the subsequent chapters there! Just head on over to Archive of Our Own and search my name, SordidDetailsFollowing, or the title of this work, I Think I Might've Inhaled You. And please, enjoy.

xoxo Sordid