? tangled hearts ? spideypool ?

New York City never sleeps, and tonight, neither does Peter Parker. Swinging between skyscrapers, Spider-Man surveys the streets below. It's been a long night of patrol, but something's off—an itch at the back of his neck telling him trouble's brewing.

He's not wrong. A robbery is going down at one of Oscorp's off-the-books warehouses. Peter sighs. "Of course, it's Oscorp," he mutters to himself, adjusting his web-shooters. "Because nothing says 'Friday night' like stopping supervillains in training."

Just as he's about to drop in on the thugs below, a loud, unmistakable voice booms from behind him.

"Spidey! My favorite wall-crawling, tight-wearing superhero!"

Peter jumps—literally—nearly missing his perch on the rooftop. He spins around to see none other than Deadpool, aka Wade Wilson, balancing on the ledge with a grin so wide it's almost unsettling.

"Wade, what are you doing here?" Peter asks, already dreading the answer.

"Oh, you know, just passing through," Wade says nonchalantly, twirling a katana in one hand. "Heard some bad guys needed a spanking. And hey, speaking of spanking, nice butt, Spidey. Been working out?"

Peter groans. "Can we focus, please? There's a robbery going on."

Wade raises his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get your webs in a twist." He pauses, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Though if you did twist those webs just right, I bet you could make a killer spider thong. Just a thought!"

Peter ignores the comment and leaps down into the fray, Wade following with a loud "Geronimo!" They land in the middle of a group of armed thugs, who look equally confused and terrified.

"Who invited the party clowns?" one of them sneers, aiming his gun at Spider-Man.

Peter dodges the first shot with ease, webbing the guy's gun to the ceiling. "I don't think you get to insult the people who are about to kick your—"

*CRACK.*

Pain explodes through Peter's side as a heavy baton connects with his ribs. He stumbles, trying to catch his breath. The thug who hit him grins, raising the baton for another swing. Before Peter can react, Wade's katana flashes, disarming the guy in one smooth motion.

"Hey, hey, no hitting my Spidey," Wade says, voice dangerously light. He spins around, slashing through a few more thugs with practiced ease. "If anyone's gonna bruise that beautiful body, it's gonna be me."

Peter barely has time to roll his eyes before another wave of dizziness hits him. His vision blurs, and he realizes too late that the baton wasn't just a blunt object—it had a taser built into it. His muscles seize, and he collapses to one knee.

"Spidey!" Wade's voice cuts through the haze. Peter feels strong arms hoisting him up. "You're not dying on me, are you? Because that would totally ruin my weekend plans."

Peter tries to respond, but everything goes black.

---

Peter wakes up in an unfamiliar apartment, the smell of takeout wafting through the air. He blinks, trying to sit up, but a sharp pain in his side reminds him of the night's events.

"Whoa there, tiger," Wade's voice comes from somewhere nearby. "You've had a rough night. Take it easy."

Peter looks around and spots Wade lounging on the couch, a chimichanga in one hand and a remote in the other. "Where... where am I?" Peter mumbles.

"My place," Wade says casually, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. "You were out cold, so I figured I'd play nurse. Don't worry, I didn't peek under the mask. Much."

Peter's eyes widen in panic, his hand flying to his face. But his mask is still in place, albeit a little torn. "You didn't take it off?"

Wade waves a hand dismissively. "Nah, figured you'd be all dramatic about it. Besides, I like the mystery. Adds to your charm. How you feeling?"

"Sore," Peter admits, lying back down. "What happened?"

"Some jerk hurt you. Got in a good hit, too. But don't worry, I took care of the rest of them. And, you know, carried your cute little butt back here. You're welcome."

Peter groans, both from the pain and Wade's relentless teasing. "Thanks, I guess."

Wade saunters over, crouching beside the couch with a grin. "You guess? I saved your life, Spider-Butt. And all I get is a 'thanks, I guess'? Where's the gratitude? The heartfelt monologue about how you couldn't live without me?"

Peter shoots him a look. "You're delusional."

"Maybe," Wade shrugs. "But you're still here, so that means you like me, at least a little bit."

Peter can't help but laugh, despite himself. "Or I'm just too tired to leave."

"Ah, denial." Wade stands up, stretching. "Anyway, you're staying here tonight. No arguments. You need rest, and I need a binge-watching partner."

"I really should—"

"Nope!" Wade cuts him off, wagging a finger. "You're staying, Spidey. Doctor's orders. And by doctor, I mean me, because I'm awesome."

Peter sighs, too exhausted to argue. "Fine. But no weird stuff, okay?"

Wade grins. "Define weird."

Peter closes his eyes, muttering, "I regret this already."

Wade just laughs, settling down next to Peter with a bowl of popcorn. "You'll love it, I promise. Now, let's see what's on Netflix."

As the TV flickers to life, Peter feels the weight of the night start to lift. Maybe Wade's chaotic energy isn't so bad, after all. At least he's not alone.