Black Cat: Future Prowl

DEADPOOL'S POV

Alright, let's get one thing straight: Peter loves me. Like, he won't admit it—because, you know, he's Peter Parker, and admitting anything remotely emotional would probably cause him to combust—but deep down? I know I'm his favorite person in the whole wide multiverse.

And before you start rolling your eyes, let's go over the facts, shall we? Exhibit A: He hasn't webbed me to the side of a building in at least three months. That's progress, people! Sure, he still gives me the "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed" look at least once a week, but that's just his face. It's practically his superhero logo at this point.

Exhibit B: Every time I show up unannounced (which is always), he lets me stay. Oh sure, he'll groan and sigh and say something like, "Wade, why are you in my kitchen? And why are you wearing my Spider-Man suit?" But does he actually kick me out? No. He doesn't. Because he's soft. Like a warm, nerdy marshmallow wrapped in guilt and moral responsibility.

But let's get to the real question here: what does Peter actually think about me? I mean, aside from the fact that I've probably shaved years off his life with stress and hijinks.

First of all, Peter thinks I'm "reckless." Which, okay, fair. But reckless can be fun! Like that time I "borrowed" one of his web shooters to swing around New York and ended up stuck to the side of the Chrysler Building for three hours. Did it cause a traffic jam? Yes. Did it almost make the nightly news? Also yes. But come on, you can't not laugh at that.

He also thinks I'm "irresponsible." Which is just... rude, honestly. I mean, I'm very responsible—just not in the traditional way. I'm responsibly chaotic. Like, if Peter's whole thing is with great power comes great responsibility, my thing is with great power comes... tacos. And maybe a little mayhem. But hey, I get results! Usually. Sometimes. Occasionally.

Peter thinks I'm annoying. (How dare he.) He'll tell me, "Wade, not everything is a joke," and I'm like, "Says the guy who quips his way through every fight like it's open mic night." Let's be real—he's mad because my jokes are better. Sorry, Parker, not everyone can be born with my comedic timing.

But here's the kicker: Peter also thinks I'm loyal. He won't say it out loud, but I can see it in the way he doesn't immediately slam the door in my face when I show up at 3 AM with a box of donuts and a long-winded story about why I accidentally blew up a laundromat. He knows, deep down, that when the chips are down, I'll be there. I'll probably be eating those chips, but I'll be there.

And you know what? I think Peter respects me. Yeah, I said it. He respects me. Not my methods, obviously—he spends 90% of our interactions doing that thing where he rubs his temples like he's reconsidering every life choice that brought him to this moment—but he respects what I stand for. Which is... well, I'm not entirely sure, but it's definitely something cool and heroic. Probably.

The thing is, Peter's got this whole "I have to save the world" complex. It's adorable, really. But he's also got a lot of weight on his shoulders. And I like to think I help lighten the load. Sure, sometimes I add to it by, you know, showing up in his life unannounced and wreaking a little havoc, but it's all part of the balance. Yin and yang. Nerd and merc.

At the end of the day, Peter Parker might roll his eyes at me, sigh deeply, and mutter, "Why are you like this?" But you know what he really thinks? He thinks, Thank God for Deadpool. Okay, maybe not in those exact words, but the sentiment is there. Probably. Maybe. Fine, I'll settle for mild tolerance.

And that, my friends, is how you win at friendship. You show up, you cause a little chaos, and you make sure they know you're not going anywhere. Whether they like it or not.