I can honestly say that the response this story has generated really took me by surprise. My husband too. He thinks I should start writing classes, maybe take a college course on it. It's been truly inspiring, thank you so much. :)

That being said, this took WAY too long to update, mostly because I was without internet for ages, then I went on a trip out of state. Now, finally back, I'm procrastinating... because this is the last chapter... I like this story and the little community it's starting to become. I honestly started writing it as a weird "I just want Peter and Wade to fuck like rabbits" and it sort of took off on it's own. Thank you for reading and sticking with this story to the end. :) oxo

Spiderman was not a weakling.

Of course, it had taken him years to discover so himself. Accidental superpowers didn't come with an instruction manual.

A punch to the throat, a sweep of the leg, a kick in the teeth, limbs flying this way and that, everybody trying to land a punch. Fights like these never really seemed fair to Peter. Not unfair in the sense it was about fifty against two, but unfair in the sense, Peter and Wade would no doubt win. Those guys didn't stand a chance.

Hired goons normally weren't as well trained as the heroes they were expected to fight. The good ones would last a couple seconds, and the greats, maybe something close to a minute. Either way, they never stayed in the fight for very long, hardly enough to do any actual damage. The only thing they really did was slow the good guy down. Kind of like storm troopers. Poor souls couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.

With a scope.

Five feet away.

With hail-sized bullets.

Peter elbowed a man in the gut when he'd started to draw out his gun, and he'd flipped right around to kick another one out of a lady's palm. Call it a pattern, but Peter had noticed that henchmen and goons never really did get trained properly. He supposed teaching them hand-to-hand was something too troublesome, 'Let's just give em' guns and call it good!'. Though, of course, Peter couldn't really point fingers.

Wade was shooting up the room jovially. Holes played out in a long trail around the space, a string of bodies tagging along, a fleshy mess on the floor.

Sadly, now wasn't the best time for a lesson on morality.

A backflip over the arm of an assailant, taking hold of his neck and spinning around him, the goon catching all the bullets fired at him. Two down, three down, four, then five. They were dropping like flies, and all the while, their fearless leader sat, looking on the scene with intrigue.

The Executioner was calm. Irritatingly so. Peter wanted to punch the smug off of his face. He kicked down another attacker and leapt forward, barrel rolling out of the way when the Executioner shot at him. He dodged another bullet, and then Deadpool was there, holding a man in a headlock and yelling at Peter with a teasing voice, "Hey, hey! I call dibs!"

"Tell me I can at least take the first crack at him?" Peter was sagging back and forth, avoiding fire while the Executioner slowly seemed to get more nervous.

Deadpool giggled, "Whatever you say sweetums! But I soooo get all exclusive rights to the his balls."

"Hah. That's gross."

"Awe, don't get jealous. I just wanna watch the asshole choke on it. Pun intended."

"Shut up, both of you!" The man barked, finally standing, moving, sweating; becoming uneasy.

Deadpool launched himself over somebody's shoulders, kicking another man down to the floor, "Hehe! He sounds scared!"

Peter was closer now, just trying to determine a way around the gun. Maybe he'd just wait until he ran out of bullets. "He should be."

"Don't take another step!" he ordered, aiming right at Spiderman.

Peter wanted to kill him. A superhero should have a problem with that, he's the good guy, he can't just- but Peter wanted him to hurt the way he'd made Wade hurt. He wanted to watch him bleed the way Wade had, to whimper and beg for his life. His throat was dry and tight, head pounding, voice almost scratchy as he dodged a bullet from the Executioner's gun and dashed forward with an angry yell, sweeping a leg underneath him and knocking the Executioner off balance. He yelped, but Peter hardly noticed. He didn't care anymore.

When he was on the ground, grumbling, Peter grabbed the man by the leg, incredible strength launching him across the room and into the wall. He tossed him around, got angry, became enraged, listened to the man shout alarming cries as he was thrown around like a pillow.

Deadpool was the one to stop him, reaching for his arm when he went in for another throw. Hit fingers curled around Peter's wrist, momentarily letting his thumb gently sweep in small, calming circles. There was a second's relay of eye contact, Wade's silent voice and stern face speaking volumes. He touched Peter's arm gently, uncharacteristically gently, and then sliced the Executioner right down the middle.

"Jesus!" Peter squeaked, stepping back suddenly, "Wade!"

Wade smirked, "There's the Spidey I know!" Deadpool pulled him into a hug, giggling manically when he pulled back, deciding to lick a tiny stripe up Peter's nose. "You went a little dark there for a second. I thought I was watching your supervillain origin."

Peter huffed, shaking his head slightly, "Thank you Wade. I sort of... lost it for a moment."

"Anytime baby cakes."

"Seriously, Wade, thank you." Peter went to peck a quick kiss on his lips, but Deadpool beat him to it, his grip around Peter's waist tightening as he steered them into a long kiss. A wet, passionate, we-just-survived-this kiss. An affirming kiss.

He pulled back with a shit eating grin, watching contently as Peter came back to his senses. "Well, we should probably get out of here... Make a 911 call."

"Sure thing sugar. I'm feeling up for some Taco Bell on the roof tops, you in?"

Peter smirked, "Do I have to pay for my tacos with kisses?"

"You could just kiss me stupid anyway."

"You wish."

"I most definitely, absolutely, certainly, positively do."

He chortled, scooping his mask up off the floor, "You're a lunatic."

"And you love me."

"Yeah." Peter smiled, "Yeah, I do."

Wade's goofy grin tripled in size, sort of alarming Peter. Could his mouth really be that wide? He looked like he could eat Peter up... and not in the fun way. Wade slung an arm around his shoulder as they left, nudging him a couple times with his hip, "I totally called your baby face by the way. Justin Bieber ain't got nuthin' on you."

"Shut up Wade."

He smirked, letting his arm slip down from Peter's shoulders and around his waist, "I love you too."