It was a quiet night for Spiderman as he looked over his own small corner of New York City.
..Emphasis on was.
It was late, and he was cold, and for the past half hour his phone's been buzzing nonstop from a private number. He tried to ignore it at first, and hey, even sometimes sang along to the catchy tune he liked to call his own theme-song. But it kept beeping, and buzzing, which built up irritation and in turn, made him stubborn enough to keep ignoring it.
If they're not gonna leave me alone, then I'm not answering.
Another half hour passed by.
His phone wouldn't stop.
Now perched on the other side of the same building, any lone residents wandering late in the night beneath him could now go home and brag about how they heard Spiderman curse.
Giving in, although with a loud sigh, muffled swear, and frustrated groan, he pulled his phone out his backpack pocket. "What," he snapped irritably, narrowed eyes scanning over the rooftops in his view.
Unfortunately, with his built-up frustration and sleep deprived state, his spidey-senses were half a second late when he found himself suddenly slammed off the building edge, from a heavy weight clad in black and red.
----
{Why are we still even trying to ring him?!}
"Because we gotta distract him!" Deadpool muttered in answer as he hit the "call" button again, and heard White's displeased hum at the reply.
[He's not picking up. Obviously. And remind me again why this is a good plan?]
{Duh! We want to talk to him!]
[He's on the building across from us!]
"Good, good," the merc murmured as he hung up the phone once he was greeted with voicemail. "Set the scene for our readers."
Now ignoring the bickering boxes in his head, Deadpool threw a hardened glare towards Spiderman before trying one last time.
He almost jumped up and squealed with joy when he heard the reassuring click of an answered call.
{Go, go, go!}
"Wha--"
In a split second, Deadpool had jumped the space between the buildings and launched himself at Spiderman, throwing them both off the edge.
[The very, very high edge, might I just add. Bad idea.]
----
Spiderman's skilled. Extremely skilled. He had already shot web towards another building to keep him from falling to his death.
Unluckily to him, keeping himself from death also seemed to be the same thing the now-recognized mercenary was doing.
Deadpool wasn't letting go of him.
"Christ, Wade! Hold still!" Spiderman cried as he swinged precariously through middair, aiming to scale the building.
"Either let go and fall, or just stay st-- Stop wriggling!"
Peter would learn later on in the week, through the Daily Bugle, that yes, noise complaints were filed.
----
{So strong!} Yellow swooned over and over in Deadpool's head, as Spiderman brought them both back up to the rooftop.
[I take back my previous statements. This was a good idea]
{Told ya so! So strong~!}
Deadpool chatted away to the hero as he was brought up the building via piggyback ride.
Well, Deadpool would say chatting.
Peter would most definitely say screeching.
"You didn't answer! For hours! What if it was my birthday and I was trying to invite you to my pirate themed party?! Honestly, Spidey, if it was my birthday, there's no way you'd be getting any sort of booty! You would have been late, my dear friend Al would've been working on the cake for so long and my fave superhero wouldn't have been able to ma--"
Deadpool, thankfully for Spiderman, was cut off when he was flung off the hero's back and thrown onto the rooftop rather ungracefully.
He righted himself quickly enough however, and seemed to bounce back, regaining his initial sense of excitement like when Spiderman finally answered his phone.
"What the hell was that about, Wade?! Were you trying to get us killed?!" the hero shouted, before fumbling with something behind him and pulling out his phone. He began waving it around as he began scrolling through the alerts, reading them aloud.
"52 missed calls?! 21 voicemails?! And... -- why did you send me so many messages?!"
He had begun approaching the merc as he spoke, the glare he had trained on him clearly distinguishable behind his mask.
[Impressive.]
{He's almost getting as good as us!}
"Impossible," the merc muttered quietly, before grinning unapologetically at the hero.
{Oh yeah.}
[Point taken.]
"--And stop smiling like it's some joke! I saved your ass just there! And don't even think about telling me it doesn't matter 'cause you're immortal, because I couldn't even easily make you let go of me! You didn't even try hold still! You kept wriggling! Do you know how diffic--"
{And we're the "merc with the mouth"?!}
["Hero with the mouth" doesn't have quite the same ring to it.]
Deadpool seemed unfazed by the harsh words flying his way, and only held up two hands in a "back off" gesture, which was surprisingly effective in getting the hero to still and quieten for a moment, as if in disbelief.
Deadpool would be lying if he said that didn't scare him even a little.
"Chilax, Spidey."
His hands quickly formed into finger guns, which he shot towards the hero. Pew pew pew. He had already begun taking his leave, as he started taking backwards steps.
"Well, this was fun! We should totally do it again, BFF! Okay? Sweet!"
With a salute, Deadpool stepped off the building.
As Spiderman rushed forward to try catch him again, to soften his fall, he saw the mercenary was nowhere to be seen.
"...
I hate you, Deadpool."
----
The many messages he had received from the merc were...strange, to say the least. Spidey wasn't even sure if half of them were directed towards him.
"Who the hell is Yellow?" he grumbled to himself as he listened to yet another voicemail.
If you asked him why he was reading and listening to them despite almost being killed by the creator of these cryptic texts just a short while ago, he wouldn't have been able to give you an answer.
Deadpool was annoying, everyone knows that. He kills people, he causes massive explosions, he's wildly unpredictable, dangerous and insane.
..But he can also have a wicked sense of humour. Sometimes.
The sun was beginning to rise when Peter got to the last few voicemails. He was still on the rooftop, tired, and with his mask taken off and resting beside him.
As it began to play, Peter was greeted with the sound of Wade singing (or again, he'd agree more on screeching) into the phone.
Peter barely recognized the song at first, with the static, gruff voice, and possible complete butchery of the song, until he got to the last voicemail, the one sent before he found himself in middair with Deadpool on his back.
"I CAME IN LIKE A WREEEEECKING BALL, I NEVE--"
The voicemail was cut off short, amd with a sigh, Peter grabbed his mask and backpack, and began swinging home with weary bones.
If he could convey as much expression through his mask as Deadpool, people walking on the streets and looking out their office windows, would've noticed the amused smile tugging at Spiderman's lips.