A/N: Just a little one-shot on Deadpool setting his eyes on a new price. I really like Deadpool. Maybe I like his character a little too much. But let me know what you all think, I really love reviews.

Of Curious Intent

The constant sound of passing sirens and the loud never stopping honking were two things Deadpool loved about New York. There was something rather artistic in it, something fundamentally human. The hateful yells and loud honks of the impatient and the screeching sirens of emergency vehicles, which so greatly represented the perilousness of human mortality. The weakness of humankind could so easily be shown through sound alone.

Even their screams were rather musical, Deadpool thought as he pushed his blade deeper into the shoulder of the man before him. So much screaming, and a little bit of begging. Deadpool liked both those sounds. Now, where had the other two gone off to?

With a swift pull, he drew his blade out and flicked the blood off, letting it splatter all over the dark and dingy alley wall. Turning, he headed back out, whistling happily to himself and ignoring the man currently drowning to death as his lungs filled with blood.

"Come out, come out wherever you are～" he sang out happily as he took a few light springs and scaled the building before him. Up here the air seemed fresher and he gulped the air in as if he had been a dying man. Then took off jogging along the roof, calling out insults to the two pathetic men he was chasing. Though, not so much chasing, more like, instinctual following.

It didn't take him long to hear yelling and some very creative swearing. That was definitely his guy. He laughed happily as he jumped to another building and practically fell off the roof as he leaned over to get a better look down into the alley where—lucky him—both the men he was looking for were.

A bright red and black look alike was there as well, and he tilted his head in contemplation. Eyes zeroing in on the clearly young figure. Slim and not at all carrying the muscular mass of a fully grown. The high pitched—adorable—voice that answered the men was another give away. Most likely a teenager. And wasn't that just cute.

"You shouldn't carry weapons. That's against the law," the kid told them, voice filled with the self-assurance of someone reciting something they knew to be true. If only he'd come off as more assertive the two men might have taken him more seriously. "Turn yourselves in. It's the right thing to do."

"Shooting you, you little brat, is the right thing to do," one of the boring burly men answered, advancing towards the little red-y. However, the kid didn't seem scared. Not backing away an inch.

"I don't want to have to hurt you." Deadpool felt his interest in the little thing rise. Kid had spunk, and maybe a little bit of suicidal tendencies with the way he was allowing the men to get closer. Not that he had any right to judge others with his own rather impressive suicide record.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about us, kid," the man sneered back.

Deadpool felt a sharp smile tug on his lips. Oh, the man should definitely worry. Death was perched rather precariously over him after all.

The kid finally backed away some, raising his hand, and Deadpool watched, fascinated, as a web shot out and threw the man back and into the wall. Sticking him in place. The other man took the opportunity to attack, sprinting forward with both a knife and a gun in each of his hands. And the kid vaulted over his head with the agility of someone not quite human, and another web managed to dislodge the knife and send it clattering away. Gunshots followed, and even as he saw the kid jump back, he knew on of them had hit the target. The red little thing staggered, then straightened. The eyes on the kid's mask narrowing in pain.

"Hey now, no need for guns, mister criminal," the kid whined, hand coming up to support his left arm where he had gotten shot. "Guns kill people. And killing people is bad. You shouldn't do things like that."

The man that had shot sneered at those words, circling the kid and pushing him back towards were his other comrade was stuck to the wall. Deadpool could clearly see the man was working on getting himself free, left arm already raising with a gun. That was his cue. And he let himself drop from the roof right over the stuck man's body. Drawing the long swords on his back, he allowed the momentum to skewer the man below him. Giving none of the three any time to react or even realize he was there.

He smiled pleased with himself when the kid whipped around, and he just knew, that beneath the mask was a shocked face. It made him itch to tear the mask off and get a closer look. On the other hand, the man behind the kid only tightened his grip on the gun, determination written clear as day on his face. Best not give him time to react, Deadpool decided and let his swords sail passed the kid on either side and embed themselves into the man.

There. Mission completed, and all three bumbling idiots taken down. And he even saved a kid. Gosh, wasn't he just too good.

Stepping off the dead and bleeding corpse, he let his boots smack into the deep puddle of blood as he aimed for the kid. Who was currently stuttering, hands raised lovingly in surrender as he circled away from both the dead men; accidentally trapping himself against another alley wall.

Deadpool grinned happily, ignoring the dead bodies and followed the kid. Heart pounding in his chest as he watched him back himself against the wall.

"Um… Thank you for your help, but I could—"

He didn't give him time to stutter out more than that, leaning in and over him; caging him with his arms. "Oh, no worries. I enjoyed helping."

He could hear the kid swallow and knew that the eyes under the mask were trying to see over his shoulders at the downed men. It caused him to lean in more, completely covering the kid's vision. Watching satisfied as he twitched back, head connected with a loud thump against the wall.

"You shouldn't have killed them. I had already called the cops, mister…" the kid said, hesitant, fidgeting in place as he clearly wanted to duck under the arms around him. Deadpool just pressed his forearms harder to the wall and pushed a happy seeking knee between the tightly clad legs of the kid.

"Deadpool," he said as an introduction. "Though, you may call me whatever you want, little red."

"I'm Spider-Man," the kid managed to stutter out, and Deadpool's cheeks practically hurt with the pleased smile that took up his face.

"A little spider out patrolling the streets at night. You should be careful, there are all kinds of unsavory people out and about. And who knows, maybe you'll get caught in someone else's webs."

The little spider stuttered nervously, shoulders sinking. "Um, thanks for worrying but there really is no need. I am used to this."

This time he couldn't hold back the pleased laughter as he pressed himself up tight against the lithe little body. "Used to this?" he wondered, head tilting a little. The little spider sucked in a loud breath and shook his head back and forth frantically. Hands coming up to push against Deadpool's chest.

"What? No!" the kid shouted, mortified. Pushing with enough force to cause Deadpool to stumble back a step or two. "Thank you for saving me, mister Deadpool, but I really should be going."

That wouldn't do. The night had just started getting fun.

So, when the kid raised his hand, clearly intending to shoot out another web, he stepped forward and caught the hand. Feeling the sticky web catch like glue between their palms. He happily kept the kid's hand pinned high above his head as he leaned back in again.

"There's no need to be in such a hurry," he crooned, trailing his other hand over the masked cheek and searching for the opening by the neck. "We've just started to get to know each other."

"There—there really is no need to get to know each other more than this," the kid said. His left hand catching on Deadpool's trailing right one, gripping the wrist with far more force than a normal human could muster. It was also slippery and wet.

He hummed at that, eyes flickering to the strong grip on his wrist before focusing back on the little spider. "You're bleeding," he said, having completely forgotten about it. After all, wounds like that never bothered him for long, healing up before he had much time to even notice them.

The kid whimpered but held on. Tugging on his good arm which was glued fast to his own.

There was sound coming from the kid's mask that wasn't the little one's voice. Curious, he leaned in letting their noses bump together, enjoying the nervous thrum that vibrated through the kid.

"Who's talking to you?"

The kid turned his head, pushing his jaw down into his chest. "No one."

Humming, he narrowed his eyes, clearly able to hear a female voice. "You're girlfriend?"

The brat jumped and jerked his head back up, the mask's eyes actually widening. "What? No, Karen isn't my girlfriend."

"Karen? So, you are talking to someone. Tut, tut, whispering to someone else while there is someone in front of you. How rude."

"I—I wasn't…"

Deadpool just pushed in more, ignoring the tightening grip on his wrist. "How were you planning on making up for that rudeness?"

He must have startled the kid too much with his words, because the grip tightened hard enough to crush the bones in his wrist. Prompting the kid to let go, a horrified gasp escaping him as he took in the mangled wrist before him.

"Oh, my God. I am so sorry. I did not—I didn't mean to. Oh, my God," he whispered frantically. Breath fast and ragged, clearly close to hyperventilation. "I broke your wrist." He sounded like he had just killed someone's puppy.

Deadpool followed the kid's gaze to his own floppy wrist with a curious gaze. "No problems. I lot of people like breaking my wrists. Though, most don't apologize."

The little spider wasn't answering. Breathing still ragged and eyes trained on the wrecked hand. Grunting, Deadpool hide it behind himself. "You gonna faint?" he wondered, leaning back a little to take the kid in. "Not that I mind, but a heads-up is always nice. I'll make sure to take good care of you." Those words seemed to have done the trick for the kid stopped breath altogether. Then, shook his head and went back to trying to free his right hand.

"I'm really sorry. I'll—I'll make it up to you… or you know, pay your medical bill."

Well, now Deadpool was interested. "How were you planning to make it up to me?"

Stopping in his tugging, the kid spluttered and stuttered uncertainly. He was saved from having to say anything further as the loud piercing sounds of sirens neared them.

"Damn."

Grunting, he tugged the kid up and threw him over his shoulder as best as he could with his left hand still stuck and took of sprinting down the alley, jumping a high fence with barely any effort.

"What are you doing? Put me down!"

"Hold on, little spider. If we get caught, you'll be going to jail with me for murder."

"I won't. I'll tell them the truth." The kid hit him hard in the back with his injured arm, and Deadpool felt how is back muscles and ribs strained against the force. Damn, the kid was strong. "You'll be the one going to jail. Everyone knows that Spider-Man only helps the little guys. The police wouldn't believe I killed anyone. Besides I'm an Ave—"

Blinking, Deadpool looked at what he could see of the kid's covered head before focusing back on making his escape. "You're a what?"

"Never mind," the kid grumbled, quiet and low. The voice of someone trying to hide something. Deadpool could sniff that kind of stuff out from miles away.

"Uh-huh."

"What about your swords?" the kid wondered, and Deadpool felt himself come to screeching halt.

"Fuck. Shit. Fucking shit!"

"Language."

"You, little spider, better hope I don't squish you," he growled to the kid. "Damn it! Those are one of a kind. Special edition. No fucking way I'm letting them become property of the damn government. Better hold tight." He turned and sprinted back in the direction they had come. Ignoring the kids continued shouting.

The bodies were just where they had left them. One of them skewered like a shish kebab. Placing a boot against the downed guy, he pulled his swords out one at a time, wiping them as well as he could. The sirens were loud, but it seemed the cops hadn't found the correct alley just yet. It gave them time to get out of here. Hopefully, without getting caught. Holding his swords tight in his right hand, he took off again; this time jumping up on to the roof of a four-story building and running low across it. He felt the kid's right hand tighten against his leathered back. Nervous energy, clear as day, thrumming through the kid's body.

"Hey, brat. When does your sticky glue were off?"

The kid squirmed on his shoulder and he tightened his grip on him, careful not to skewer him with his swords. "Um… I have… I have a solvent that can be used. Otherwise, about two hours."

"Lucky that I think you're cute."

He could feel the kid sag against him. Tired. Most likely from blood lose.

Cursing, his eyes flicked up at the sound of helicopter blades and he took a sharp turn to barrel into an abandoned looking house. He had an idea of where to go. The kid needed medical attention and Deadpool just loved playing nurse.

The building wasn't that far from their little alley, but it was safe from the prying eyes of the cops. A six-story building that had probably never seen good days. There was a sewage smell to the area and he wrinkled his nose in displeasure. He tugged the cracked door open, not worried about being seen. In this area, people didn't report things to the cops. It was most likely a drug cartel that would get it, and then, Deadpool could have even more fun if they decided to come and check things out.

For now, though, he needed to treat his little spider. It seemed the brat had lost consciousness during their little run and now laid loose as a sack of potatoes over his shoulder.

He dumped the kid on a squeaky, yellow stained mattress and went to fetch something he could use to clean the wound. Sadly, having to peel his own glove off to get his left hand loose. Already mourning the warm contact as he made his way out of the room in search of supplies.

When he came back, the kid still laid sprawled and vulnerable on the bed. The image doing bad things for Deadpool as he took in the lithe little form dressed up in all tight spider suit.

"Bad, Deadpool. Down, Deadpool," he grumbled to himself as he sank down on the bed by the kid's hip. "Kid's probably jailbait. Better be careful or I'm gonna have to turn myself in for being pedophilic. And we wouldn't want that, would we? It would make Marvel look really bad if they screened a pedophilic anti-hero. Then, poor Ryan Reynolds would be out of a job and I wouldn't get to meet the cute little spider." Even as he was telling himself this, his bad, bad fingers were trailing themselves over a flat stomach and up the chest to feel along the throat. With a few insistent tugs he had the mask off. Head tilting as he took in the messy brown hair and slack, relaxed face of the slumbering teen.

"Yeah, definitely jailbait."

His eyes trailed down to the bleeding arm and grimaced at the blood that was pooling onto the bedsheets. "Guess I better get to work."

Tugging the arm out of the tight suit was a lot harder than he had thought it would be. The kid actually cried out in his sleep when he finally got the spandex-like sleeve over his gun wound. It was pretty clean. Went all the way through but was clearly taking its time healing. Not at all like Deadpool's own wounds.

At first, he thought he would have to sow the skin shut, but as he continued cleaning the blood away, he noticed that slowly but surely the wound was closing on its own. Not the super healing of himself, but clearly the healing of someone enhanced. He sat back to take the kid in, trailing his eyes over him again, but this time with a far more searching kind of look.

"Huh, you need to eat more kid. You'd probably heal up in no time. You're literally skin and bone. No wonder you were so weak." Grinning to himself he leaned into the relaxed face below him, taking in the smooth skin of the teenager. "Makes me want to fatten you up and see what you become. I always wanted a side-kick, after all."

The kid didn't answer. Still deep in the land of unconsciousness.

Deadpool cleaned up, throwing the bloody rags in a trash bag along with the towel he had used. Better burn the evidence he thought but didn't get a chance to do more than that before a high-powered whirling sound could be heard, fast approaching. Far too fast for him to do little else but dodge to the side. His window exploding inwards as the red form of Iron Man shot through. Hands lit up bright and ready, aimed right at him.

"That's my cue to book it," he said happily, arms held up as he backed away from the man that was now blocking his view of the kid.

"Stay where you are," the mechanic voice of Iron Man commanded. "You have a lot of explaining to do as to why my kid is bleeding out on your bed. And for that matter, why he is on your bed to begin with?"

"Hey now, I was just patching the little spider up. Didn't think he belonged to anyone already. Guess that explains his self-assurance," he said in return. Really not all that bothered about the guns aimed at him.

"Belongs to?" Iron Man sort of seethed. "The kid doesn't below to anyone. Certainly not someone like you." The bright light on his gloves intensifying as they charged with more energy.

"Wow now, papa bear. I'm getting out of your hair. Kid's just sleeping."

"You better hope I never see you close to him again," the man threatened, but made no move to apprehend Deadpool. So, with a last look in the kid's direction, he took a running leap and disappeared out the closest window. Staying only long enough to hear Iron Man dissemble his suit and make his way to the kid.

"Hey Peter. You awake, kid?"

Smiling, he stored the name away and let himself become one with the bright, artificially lit up lights of New York city.

"Let's meet again, Peter."

—V—V—

The kid had been spirited away, and for a few days there was no trace of either Spider-Man nor the boy who he had found out was called Peter Parker. The so-called intern of Stark Industries. Not that Deadpool believed an iota of that. There was a much deeper connection between those two, one that had nothing to do with an internship.

Deadpool didn't care overly much about that though: he gave no fucks about Tony Stark. It was the little Parker that he wanted.

That's why, barely a week after they had first run into each other, he could be found sitting on a rooftop just across from Midtown School of Science and Technology. His eyes roaming over the students as they came pouring out of the doors. Searching for a mop of messy brown hair.

And there he was, one hand on his backpack strap and dressed in loose, baggy clothing that hid that lovely little body from view. It might have been a week since they had last seen each other, but there was no way he would have forgotten what the kid looked like.

And maybe he was releasing a little bit of pleased killing intent as he was studying the kid. For large brown eyes soon meet his own. And even with this distance between them it was clear as day that they could both make out the other without any problems.

He tried to smile at the kid, but his mask got in the way, so he waved happily instead. Watching, fascinated, as the color in the kid's face drained and he turned tail and sprinted—without a word to his friend—down the street.

Hoping happily up on his feet, Deadpool pursued the kid. Heart pounding happily at the idea of a game of tag.