Holding Back - 5. Chapter 5

Peter stuffs his coursework into his bag as his fellow students file out of the auditorium. He shoulders his bag and is about to follow them when his Physics professor speaks.

‘Parker?’ She looks at him over the top of her glasses. ‘Could I see you for a moment?’

Peter walks over to her desk, where she’s packing books and papers into her briefcase. ‘Yes, professor?’

‘You’re very gifted,’ she says, stopping to study his face, ‘but I can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re not really applying yourself. If you worked a little harder, studied a little more, you’d outshine everyone else easily.’

Peter feels himself blush. ‘Sorry, professor,’ he mutters. ‘I really do my best, but I have . . . a lot of responsibilities.’

‘I realise that. It’s just sad to see such a talented young man not reach his full potential. Know what I mean?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

She gives him a penetrating stare. ‘All right. I won’t keep you. See you on Friday.’

‘Yeah. See ya.’

Peter trots out of the auditorium with a sigh. She’s right, of course, but between his job and being Spider-Man, he has limited time to study, and on top of that he now has to babysit a hyperactive, schizoid, former mercenary wannabe hero. It’s a wonder he even makes it to lectures anymore. College is hard enough even when you’re not juggling a secret identity.

Deadpool’s getting so much better, though, Peter muses as he leaves the building. The past couple of weeks have passed almost without incident, and he’s helped make Peter’s patrols much more efficient. Peter’s gotten used to having him around, and where he used to feel uncomfortable with Deadpool’s flirting, the banter now flows freely.

He’s done with his lectures for today, so he heads home to his apartment. Peter wishes he had time to just chill out for a couple of hours, but he’s got photos to sort through and lecture notes to read, and there’s that math formula he still can’t seem to wrap his head around, and then he’s got work before he’s meeting Deadpool for patrol. Oh, and he should call Aunt May, cause he hasn’t talked to her in a while and she’s probably fretting. He sighs, thinking, not for the first time, that he’s stretching himself too thin. At least he’s only got two semesters left in college. Of course, after that comes graduate school. No rest for the wicked.

* * *

Deadpool flips one of the assailants over on his back and steps on his chest, knocking the air from his lungs. Another comes at him from the side and, without really looking, Deadpool pulls one of his sidearms and points it at the man. ‘You sure you wanna do that?’

Peter is busy with his own two guys. He knocks one out with a well-aimed kick to the head, turning to focus on the other one, a tall blonde man in a tan leather jacket. He seems to be the one in charge, if there is such a thing in a group of guys trying to rape a young woman.

He heard her scream just as he and Deadpool were about to call it a night. They found her badly beaten on the ground in an alley, with one of her assailants standing over her with his belt undone (the blonde one Peter’s currently fighting) and the other three standing around watching gleefully. This kind of thing makes Peter feel angry in a way that few other crimes can. It filled him with such an immense fury that he almost wanted to tell Wade to screw all his previous admonitions and murder the crap out of these guys. Judging by Deadpool’s furious shout as he jumped into the fray he’s scarcely less angry than Peter, though he has so far refrained from actually killing anyone, for which Peter knows he will in hindsight be grateful.

Now he leaps up onto a nearby wall in order to flank his opponent. Blondie isn’t fast enough, and Peter lands a kick to his side, knocking him off balance. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Deadpool pull a second gun, pointing it at the guy on the ground.

‘Either of you try to run away, I will shoot you,’ the merc says softly.

Peter aims a punch at Blondie’s shoulder, causing him to cry out, and then he shoots a large web that wraps itself around his body. Blondie falls over and the fight is essentially over.

Deadpool brings his two guys over to Peter at gunpoint, and Peter webs them all together. He’s too angry for quips or one-liners. Instead he leans in close to Blondie’s face and hisses, ‘Next time you decide to assault a defenceless person, remember that this is my town, and no one gets sexually assaulted in my town if I can help it!’

He webs them all to a nearby dumpster before walking over to the girl, who’s on the ground with her back against a wall, sobbing. She’s got long, brown hair and olive skin. Her knee-long skirt is torn and bruises are forming on her face and her bare arms.

‘Hey,’ says Peter softly, crouching down before her. ‘The police are on their way, okay? You’re safe now.’

‘Yeah,’ says Wade, and his tone is so kind and gentle that Peter looks up at him in surprise, ‘those guys can’t hurt you now. Spidey here’s got them all tied up, see? Everything will be just fine.’

The girl looks up at them with wide green eyes. She chokes back a sob and takes a deep breath. ‘Th-thank you, Spider-Man,’ she says in a shaky voice. ‘And . . . And you.’ Her eyes fall upon Deadpool’s white lenses. ‘Thank you. If you guys hadn’t arrived when you did . . .’ She shudders. ‘You saved my life. Or at least my . . . My . . .’ She swallows and looks away again.

Peter can hear the approaching sound of sirens growing louder and gets to his feet again. He looks over at Wade, whose eyes are still on the girl on the ground. ‘Cops are coming,’ Peter says softly. ‘Rooftop, two blocks south?’

Deadpool nods, finally looking away. ‘Yeah, okay. See you there.’ Then he slinks into the shadows, just as the first police car pulls up to the kerb.

* * *

‘Is she okay?’ are the first words out of Deadpool’s infamous mouth when Peter lands on the agreed-upon rooftop.

‘She’s pretty shaken, but she should be fine eventually. At least we managed to stop them from . . . you know.’

‘Yeah,’ says Wade darkly. ‘Fucking bastard motherfuckers.’

Peter shakes his head. ‘If I could ever think killing someone was justified . . .’ He trails off. Glancing at Wade, he can tell that he’s smiling under his mask.

‘I know, right?’ he says, but it doesn’t seem to be directed at Peter. ‘Man, didn’t think I could love this guy any more than I already did.’

Peter looks away again, blushing under his mask. As much as he’s always considered himself straight, he can’t pretend that he doesn’t feel flattered by Deadpool’s repeated advances and words of affection. He clears his throat. ‘That doesn’t mean I give you leave to kill them,’ he says, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

‘Of course not,’ says Deadpool at once. ‘No un-aliving criminals, even if they are worthless, rapist scum. Hope to die.’ He draws an X across his chest.

Peter nods. He feels suddenly exhausted, the adrenaline of the fight wearing off. He has an early lecture tomorrow, and he groans internally, realising how little sleep he’ll be getting. Again.

‘You okay, Spidey?’ says Deadpool, bringing Peter out of his thoughts.

‘Yeah, fine.’

Deadpool regards him through his white lenses for a few moments. ‘You know what I think you need?’

Knowing Deadpool, no doubt it’s something lewd, but Peter still says, ‘What?’

‘You need a night off!’

Peter blinks. ‘Huh?’ That’s not what he was expecting at all.

Wade keeps talking. ‘It’ll be awesome! Tomorrow night. My place. We can eat pizza and watch a movie or something. You bring the beer. You are old enough to drink, right? Here.’ He produces a sharpie out of nowhere and grabs Peter’s arm, pulling up his sleeve. ‘This is my address,’ he says, scribbling onto Peter’s forearm. ‘Apartment 306. Eight PM. Be there or be pear-shaped or whatever.’ He lets go of Peter’s arm, and Peter’s sure he’s grinning now.

He opens his mouth to argue, to tell Deadpool that he has to patrol, that it’s his responsibility to keep this city safe, but instead he says, ‘Okay. I guess I’ll see you then.’

Wade laughs. ’You bet your sweet ass you will!’

* * *

Peter lands on the fire escape outside Wade’s window. Looking inside, he can see Wade sitting on a moth-eaten couch. He’s wearing his Deadpool mask, but other than that he’s in civilian clothing, jeans and a blue long-sleeve t-shirt with a vague, washed out design on it. Peter taps on the glass with his gloved knuckle and Wade looks up.

The merc strolls over and opens the window. ‘Hey, baby boy! Full Spidey get-up, huh? I can dig it.’

Peter crawls in through the window and holds up the sixer of lager he’s been carrying.

‘Sweet!’ Wade takes it from him and walks over to the coffee table, where three pizza boxes are stacked. ‘Have a seat! I have a couch now, it’s new. Well, new old. Didn’t know what kind of pizza you liked, so I got some random ones. The top one’s got taco meat and nachos on it!’ He picks up a beer bottle and twists the cap off, handing it to Peter, who sits down on the couch gingerly. It’s actually pretty comfortable, though, and he lets himself relax a little bit.

Wade grabs a beer bottle of his own and pulls his mask up to his nose so he can take a swig. Then he studies Peter for a moment. ‘You know, if you wanna chill out in something other than that spandex, I’ve probably got some clothes you can borrow. Ooh! You could use my Spider-Man pyjamas! How meta would that be?’

Peter stares at the ex-mercenary for a moment. ‘You . . . You have Spider-Man pyjamas?’ Wade nods enthusiastically. ‘You . . . sleep in them?’ Peter asks slowly, feeling mildly creeped out by the idea.

‘Nah, man, I sleep nekkid!’ Wade grins. ‘I just got them cause it was funny.’

‘I think I’m good,’ says Peter, pushing up his own mask to take a sip of his beer. ‘The suit’s actually pretty comfortable.’

Wade shrugs. ‘Suit yourself. Hah! Get it?’ He sets his beer down on the table and picks up two DVD boxes. ‘So, what do you wanna watch? I got Saw and The Little Mermaid.’

Peter laughs, then, unable to stop himself. ‘Those are our options?’

‘I know, right? They’re both so good, it’s hard to choose!’

Thinking that torture porn probably isn’t going to help him relax, Peter says, ‘In that case, I think The Little Mermaid.’

‘Good choice!’ says Wade happily. He crouches before the TV-set and pops the disc in the DVD-player. ‘You know, I identify with Ariel so much . . . I mean, she just wants to be part of their world! You know?’ He picks up the remote and sits next to Peter on the couch. ‘Like the TV? It’s new, too! I paid for it and everything!’

While Wade flicks through the menus, Peter looks around the apartment. It’s pretty grim, really, all bare brick and very little furniture. There’s a definite draft running through the place, chilling it, and everything smells of damp and dust. But the lamp behind the couch gives off a warm glow, and there’s a soft, thick shag rug on the floor beneath their feet. On the walls above the mattress in the corner Wade has put up posters—a collection of bands, movies and superheroes—and umpteen pillows, two duvets and several blankets make up a kind of fort there, with a banged up old laptop in the centre.

‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ says Peter as Wade presses play.

Wade chuckles. ‘Isn’t it? Building’s owned by some slum lord. Haven’t paid rent since I moved in. I mean, guy’s a criminal, right? After the third time he sent his goons round to collect and I sent them back with no teeth, they stopped coming. I’ve been trying to make sure he doesn’t give the other tenants too much of a hard time either. I mean, there are kids in this building, can you believe that?’ He shakes his head. ‘They deserve better lives than this.’

Peter finds himself smiling. Seeing Wade like this, relaxed and drinking beer and just chatting, he almost seems like any other guy. He’s not Deadpool right now. He’s just Wade Wilson. Almost normal, except for the scarred hands and the mask, of course.

‘So, do you always wear your mask around the house?’ Peter asks casually. He immediately regrets it as Wade stiffens slightly.

‘Do you always wear your Spider-Man costume to movie nights?’ Wade asks in return. His tone is light, but there’s a hard edge to his voice.

‘Point taken,’ Peter mumbles. ‘Forget I asked. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’

Wade seems to relax at that, and then he giggles. ‘Yeah, I don’t get it either, no one’s that fucking nice!’ he says to no one in particular. Then he looks at Peter again. ‘Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. We’ve all got issues about something, right? This is mine. Well, one of mine.’ There’s a pause, during which Ariel fails to appear in her giant clam shell. ‘Anyway, pizza!’ He opens the topmost box, and the smell of cheese, jalapeños and beef wafts out of it, making Peter’s stomach growl. ‘Tuck in, dude.’

They munch on pizza and watch their movie. Wade sings along with all the songs and occasionally goes off on tangents that are completely incomprehensible to Peter (‘Part of your world! Of course we can, we’re owned by Disney now. Probably why it took so long to get our movie greenlit, really . . . I know, the only thing that could make this movie better is if Ryan Reynolds was in it.’), and Peter finds himself relaxing. The beer and the pizza taste good, and the movie leaves him with a definite feeling of nostalgia.

When Wade puts a friendly arm around his shoulder, Peter doesn’t object. Instead he drains his beer bottle and leans back into the couch, smiling.