Chapter Text
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“Crap crap crap crap crap.”
Peter, in full Spider Man costume, dropped onto a roof and ducked behind an AC unit, holding his right arm tight to his chest.
It hurt, oh man it hurt and he could hardly draw a breath between the pain and his binder and honestly he thought he might pass out if he couldn't get laying down somewhere safe. But on this side of the city he was minimum twenty minutes of swinging, and close to an hour taxi ride from the safety of Aunt Mays apartment.
Too far.
He dropped his head back against the AC unit and tried to suck in a deep breath, tried not to scream when everything seized up. His arm, his chest...this was a horrible day.
And he was late for his injection, which made everything worse. He was supposed to take it last night, and had passed out exhausted before he remembered and then had ran out the door to
“What's up, Spidey?” A deep voice startled him, but not as much as the red and black masked face that poked around the corner. “I'm sensing a damsel in distress.”
“Go away, Deadpool.” Peter flinched behind his mask at the ‘damsel’ comment. “I'm fine.”
“Liar!” Deadpool crowed and moved to kneel in front of him. “Who knew our friendly neighborhood Spider Man lied like a kid stealing cake?”
“Please.” Peter bit out. “Please. Leave.”
“Hey.” Deadpool’s voice dropped, softened. “You’re not alright, alright? Plus you’re like twelve, and I just can't leave a twelve year old superhero alone and hurting on the roof somewhere. Where’s your dad?”
“Who--”
“The Iron Giant.” Deadpool said impatiently. “I heard he looks out for you.”
“Don't want him to know.” Peter was starting to feel a little lightheaded, lack of oxygen and the pain radiating up his arm making him dizzy. “And I'm not twelve.”
“Well you certainly aren't eighteen.” Deadpool looked around, then seemed to come to a decision. “Well, I live close by, want to come to my place? We can get you patched up and--”
“No!” Peter blurted. “I mean, no. No thank you.”
“Damn Spidey.’ Deadpool chuckled. “I know I'm not exactly an Avenger, but you don't have to act like that. Gonna hurt my feelings.”
“No, it's nothing against you I just-- I'm fine, alright? Just need to--”
“You’re barely breathing.” Deadpool interrupted stubbornly. “Barely breathing and your arm looks broken. You’re gonna come back to my place, get ya taken care of and then you can be on your way. No one has to know you let me anywhere near you.”
“Oh.” Peter felt bad instantly. “No, that's not what I said--”
“It's fine.” Deadpool shrugged, and then bent and lifted Peter into his arms in one easy movement. “Ooof. Heavier than you look, Spider-kid. You don't mind if I carry you like a Princess right? Everyone wants to feel like Princess every once in a while, huh?”
Peter wanted to protest, out of habit he even started to protest the Princess comment, started to correct Deadpool that he was in fact a boy , not a girl, not a damsel and certainly not a Princess-- but he was exhausted, and Deadpool was moving down the fire escape as carefully as he could, basically carrying Peter in one arm and he didn't want to admit it, but it was sort of nice to let the Merc take charge for a minute.
Just for a minute though.
Peter didn't even realize his eyes had closed, didn't realize he’d nodded off until Deadpool was laying him out gently on a worn out couch in a dingy apartment.
“Oh are we here? Sorry I--” he started to struggle, to pull away, but wanted to scream when his arm jerked.
“Easy.” Deadpool returned with a pair of sweatpants and a t shirt. “Leave your mask on, but change into these so I can look at your arm. I can help--” Peter was already shaking his head and Deadpool made a noise of frustration.
“Look kid, I'm not trying to mess with you, not trying to know your identity alright? Just want to make sure everyone’s favorite web slinger doesn't die on top of some roof, alright? Now can you change by yourself, or do I need to help?”
“I can do it.” Peter finally reached out and took the clothes with his left hand. “Thank you. I'm-- I'm sorry.”
“It's fine.” Deadpool shrugged and backed away, shedding his katanas and several handguns as he went. “I'm going to use the bathroom, you just let me know when you are ready, alright?”
“Thanks.”
Peter waited until the bathroom door had closed completely before trying to slide out of his costume. Of course spandex being what it was, he couldn't just jump out of it, so it took some awkward shuffling to get out of his pants. His shirt was even harder, and tears sprang to his eyes as he tried to pull it up and over his head, getting it stuck halfway there, his binder on full display as he tried to yank his shirt off.
Unable to see, and unable to move any further, Peter had to give up, and with his voice shaking, he called hesitantly for the other man.
“Dead--deadpool. I need some help. Please.”
“No worries.” He called through the bathroom door. “Mask on?”
“Yeah.” Peter swallowed hard, and braced himself. “Yeah, mask is on.”
“Alright, I'm coming.” The bathroom door opened, then closed and heavy footsteps as the big mercenary approached him. “Oh. Look at that.”
Peter couldn't tell what the man was thinking by the flat tone of his voice, and he tensed when the footsteps came closer again.
“You can't be breathing alright with this on.” he muttered, and Peter jumped when rough hands landed on his waist, sliding upwards to tug at the hem of the binder. “This is way too tight, Spidey. No wonder you nearly passed out when I picked you up.”
“Um--” Peter was too afraid to say anything, just held his breath and waited for the inevitable questions, for the judgement, for the disgust.
“I can't believe you do what you do wearing this thing. We should get you a better one.” Deadpool said then, conversationally. “I'm going to have to cut your suit to get it off of you without messing with your arm alright? Just gonna cut your suit, then put the t shirt on you, then do something about this binder alright?”
“Wait-- what? Why are you--” Peter knew he was trembling, but he was still freaking terrified of whatever was going to happen.
“My names Wade, by the way.” It sounded like the mercenary--Wade-- was digging through a drawer for the scissors. “If that makes you feel any better. Wade.”
“Wade.” he repeated and hated how his voice quavered.
“Yep. Alright, just hold still.” Wade's voice was suddenly much closer. “Gonna cut this off of you. Damn shame but--” the suit shredded and Peter could have cried in relief. “--can't have you wandering around looking like this can we?” Wade was still talking, and with out the shirt in the way, Peter could see him reach for the big t shirt, making quick cuts at the collar so he could slip it easier over Peter's head and down his shoulders. The mercenary was still fully dressed in his suit, mask on, and Peter was glad for the anonymity.
“That's better, thank you.” He whispered once the shirt was covering him again.
“No worries, Spidey.” Wade said nonchalantly. “Now we are gonna get rid of this thing alright? I can tell it's too tight, I know you can't breathe right, and honestly that's the worst thing I've ever seen. So I'm just gonna tear it, alright? Tear it right off you.”
“Wade--” Peter was going to cry now, unable to believe that it was Deadpool of all people who was learning his secret...and who didn't seem to care.
“Hey hey.” Wade's voice softened even further. “I won't if you don't want me to. But I think it's for the best. You’re covered up, completely, I'll turn the lights down if you want. You got nothing to be worried about or ashamed about, alright?”
“Okay.”
“I need a very clear yes or no, kiddo.” Wade pressed and Peter nodded quickly.
“Yes, please.”
“Alright, here we go.” Wade slid the scissors beneath the binder just enough to make a cut through the hem, then gripped it in both hands and gave a quick jerk.
Peter fell to his knees as the pressure around his chest eased, and he yelled when he landed on his arm.
“Sorry. Sorry, didn't think you’d drop like that, come on.” Wade lifted him again, set him on the couch and placed a pillow under his arm. “I'm going to wrap your arm so it doesn't move anymore. You just focus on breathing. I brought your bag, do you need anything from it?”
Wade set to work on Peter's arm, wrapping it carefully, but he glanced up when Peter didn't answer. “Spidey? Anything from your bag?”
“I missed my injection yesterday.” Peter muttered. “But it can wait--”
“Probably shouldn’t though, right?? Wade interrupted. “It's no problem. You tell me what to do, I'll take care of it.”
Peter just ended up watching in silent disbelief as Wade patched him up, then retrieved his kit, following Peter's directions to the letter as he prepared and injected the testosterone.
“You okay?” Wade asked, and patted Peter's knee. “Shaking a little.”
“Don't like needles.” Peter managed. “And I'm a little...shell shocked I guess.”
“Whys that?” Wade wasn't even looking at him, replacing everything in Peter's bag carefully. “Because the Merc with a Mouth is good for more things than over the top violence and sassy one liners?”
“Because you haven't…” Peter made an awkward motion over his chest. “I thought you would be--”
“What?” Wade handed him a bottle of water. “You thought what? That I would be horrified that Spider Man is…” he circled his hands vaguely. “...transitioning? Is that the right word?”
“I guess.” Peter looked down at his lap. “Nobody except my aunt knows. I um-- it's something--”
“It's nothing.” Wade shrugged. “I mean, obviously it's something for you, but Spidey-- the fact that you’re wearing a binder doesn't change anything. I mean you’re still an ass kicking superhero, right?”
“Well I--”
“And the entire city still looks up to you, right?”
“Um--”
“So who cares?”
They sat in silence for a long time, drinking their water, Peter blinking tears out of his eyes.
“Thank you.” he finally said. “For everything today.”
“I have some ace bandages.” Wade answered. “Would you like me to wrap you before you head out? I'll call a cab for you, but I'm happy to help with--.”
“I think I'm alright.” Peter shook his head. “I have a jacket in my bag um, ace bandages are actually really bad for binding and---”
“Sorry, I didn't know.”
“No.” Peter shrugged a little. “It's...it's fine. Thank you for...trying.”
“Alright.”
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Wade called him in a cab close to an hour later, handing him enough cash for the fare plus some heavy duty pain killers.
“I don't know if narcotics affects--” he motioned to where he had had to give Peter his shot. “But if it doesn't, take these when you’re about fifteen minutes out from your place. They’ll kick in and put you on your ass with in about half an hour. Will take care of your arm, and I heard that those types of shots can give you a hell of a headache, so just take it easy, yeah?”
“Thanks.” Peter pocketed it all self consciously. “So next time I see you I'll give you back your clothes.”
“Whenever, Spidey.” Wade motioned to his mask. “I'm heading back upstairs, take off of your mask before you step out and get into the cab alright?”
“Sure thing.”
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It was several weeks later when Peter ran into Wade again, spotting the familiar black and red costume on a low roof, devouring a huge bag of fast food.
“Hey.” he dropped lightly onto the roof and Wade swallowed whatever was in his mouth, yanking his mask down over his lips and chin.
“Spidey.” he greeted. “Hows it going?”
“Good.”
They sat next to each other quietly for a long time.
“Why did you help me?” Peter asked then, and Wade just shrugged.
“We all have our secrets, we all have things we hide under our costumes. No reason to make a big deal out of anything like that.”
“My names Peter.” Peter blurted. “Or at least it is now. It used to be---
Wade just shook his head and held out his hand to shake.
“It's real nice to meet you, Pete.”