Summary:
You’re going to love me. You’re going to hate me.

Issue 18: Hallways of Nostalgia

Spider-Man pushed away from the microscope and leaned back, languidly stretching his arms up above his head.  It had been an onerous evening, between the unexpected fight with S.H.I.E.L.D. and now several hours testing in the lab, but Spider-Man was actually happier than he had been in recent memory.  Like the last couple of years of recent memory.

He shouldn’t be this happy.

Tonight alone, he’d had a fight with S.H.I.E.L.D. and learned that Deadpool had stolen the fabulous mechanical wings that they had been enjoying for the past week.  As if that wasn’t enough, he’d also learned that Deadpool had aided and abetted a terrorist group stealing government personnel secrets concurrent with his theft of the wings.  The real kicker had been in learning what information that group had stolen.

As they had crossed the city, Spider-Man had pressed Deadpool for the information that he had given S.H.I.E.L.D.  As Deadpool had related the list of doctors and scientists that the terrorist group had been interested in, Spider-Man had recognized one of the names in particular.

Doctor Watson Wilkins was a big name in biochem.  Back when he was in school, Peter had gotten to meet Dr. Wilkins at a conference and maybe he’d fanboyed a little.  So Spider-Man had noticed when he read a blog article earlier that month talking about how Dr. Wilkins had gone missing.  Somehow, Spider-Man didn’t think it was a coincidence.  He would now need to investigate Dr. Wilkin’s disappearance further, as well as all the other names Deadpool had given him.

But despite all that had gone wrong this evening, Spider-Man was back in a real lab doing real science, and that made him nostalgic and delighted by turns.  He hadn’t gotten to play in lab like this since college.  He had missed it.  With the economy in the hole, the research labs he had wanted to work for after graduation weren’t hiring.  In fact, nobody was hiring.  While it was possible that he could get an unpaid internship gig, he wouldn’t be able to afford to live with no salary. His super-hero gig meant he couldn’t work full time and intern full time and save the city all at the same time.  So he had to drop something, and unfortunately what got dropped was his dream career as a biochem researcher.

So yeah, the evening was pretty much a mess, but Spider-Man couldn’t be happier.

“Hey, Spidey, how’s the whole science thing going?”

Spider-Man gave a startled jump.  He hadn’t noticed Deadpool until he was right there next to him.  The mercenary had been patrolling around the building, or so he had said when he left Spider-Man to do the “science plot stuff”.  Since nobody else had come to the lab or seemed to have noticed he was there, Spider-Man figured that either he had been incredibly lucky, or Deadpool was doing his job.

“Done,” Spider-Man told him, then amended, “At least for now.  I’ll probably have to spend all day tomorrow going over the results.”

“Oh?”

“Well, there does seem to be a connection between the blood sample and the drug sample.  They’re not identical, so I can’t say if the sleep-walkers are using the drugs or if there is any immediate connection like that, but there are similarities.  Both samples contain the same non-earth element.”

“A non-earth element?”

“Yes,” Spider-Man affirmed though he didn’t explain what he meant by a ‘non-earth element’ further.

“Also,” Spider-Man mused, “the blood sample contains traces of metal, and not just iron or any metal that we would find naturally in the blood.  It appears to be traces of a man-made alloy.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, Deadpool, but I’m going to find out.”

With Deadpool right beside him, Spider-Man noticed that he smelled clean and he was wearing a brand new shirt, the bloody tear at his shoulder gone.  He must have found a chance to freshen up at some point while he patrolled around the lab.  Spider-Man was a little jealous.  He was still dirty and sweaty from their earlier fight.  Oh well, he didn’t think Deadpool would mind.

He grinned up at Deadpool. “And what have you been up to all this time?”

“Keeping people away,” he said simply.

Spider-Man looked at him sharply.  “You didn’t hurt anyone?  No one saw you?”

“Please, Spidey,” Deadpool scoffed.  “This ain’t my first rodeo.”  Then he cackled.

Spider-Man didn’t feel especially reassured.  Still, security would have been all over the building if Deadpool had done anything major.  “Well, let me finish cleaning up so nobody will know anyone was here, then we’ll get out of here.”

“Then payment?” Deadpool asked, his voice dripping with hope.

Spider-Man rolled his eyes.  “Yes.  Then you’ll get ‘paid’.”

Deadpool hovered while Spider-Man cleaned. On one hand, it would have been nice to have another set of hands helping, on the other hand, Spider-Man wasn’t certain he trusted Deadpool to clean things properly.

“You’ve spent a lot of time here,” Deadpool noted as Spider-Man cleaned.

Spider-Man froze.  “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

“Well, in a lab like this,” Deadpool clarified.  “And college.  You’re really familiar with this kind of place, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Spider-Man admitted, figuring there wasn’t much harm in telling Deadpool that much about himself.

“I never went to school,” Deadpool said quietly.  “Well, I mean, of course I went as a kid, but I dropped out of high school and I never went to college.”

Spider-Man put the sponge and beaker down and looked over at Deadpool, who was perched on a lab stool, poking at a microscope.  “Do you regret not going?” Spider-Man asked him.

“Hmm, not really?  I mean, I’m not much for the structure of school.  But I suppose I regret a little that I didn’t get to be a normal kid, and sometimes I wonder what it would have been like, and what I’d be like now.”

Spider-Man lowered his head.  “Sometimes, so do I.”

Deadpool picked his head up and looked over at Spider-Man.  “What a pair of freaks we are, huh, Spidey?”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man agreed, before turning back to the sink to finish cleaning the beaker.  It was a bleak topic.  Spider-Man might have a lot he regretted in his life, but from what he had heard, Deadpool had it even worse.  Spider-Man had to wonder, if he didn’t have the support of his family and his friends, would he have wound up like Deadpool?  Would he have even wanted to become a better person, a hero, if that were the case?  There were a lot of similarities between Deadpool and himself.  Spider-Man resolved to be more patient with Deadpool’s attempts to become better.

It took a few more minutes, but Spider-Man finished cleaning up the lab, erasing all traces that someone had been there.  He led Deadpool out of the room and relocked the door behind him.

“Well,” Spider-Man said.  “You got me into the lab, kept people away while I was working, and you seem to have behaved yourself.  At the very least, you didn’t interrupt or bother me while I was working.  I’d say you earned your payment.”

Spider-Man stepped towards Deadpool, raising his mask up over his mouth as he did so.

“Now?” Deadpool asked, startled.

“That’s the plan,” Spider-Man said, starting to feel a little uncertain. “I thought you were expecting it too, since you somehow found a way to freshen yourself up while I was working.  But if you don’t want…”

“I do!” Deadpool insisted.  “I just thought…you might change your mind, that you might not really want…”

“Just come here and lift up your mask already,” Spider-Man said instead, not wanting to think about whether he really wanted to kiss Deadpool or if he was just doing it because he said he would.

As Deadpool inched his mask up, Spider-Man stood on tip toes and placed his arms around Deadpool’s neck, pulling him down slightly so their lips could connect.

Deadpool had just started to lean in to meet his lips when he pulled back sharply.  “Someone’s coming,” he hissed into Spider-Man’s ear.

Sure enough, Spider-Man could hear the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching.  A flickering beam of a flashlight came into view.

“Who’s there?” a voice called out, and Spider-Man recognized it as the voice of Cheryl, the night security guard for the science building.

Deadpool pulled Spider-Man back, into the alcove where the lab door was, to avoid the beam of light.  Spider-Man could feel the slight tension in Deadpool’s body, and he wanted to laugh.  There was no threat, no danger here.  His Spidey Senses hadn’t even gone off, it was just Cheryl.

He took Deadpool’s hand and pulled him, dashing down the hallway.  He knew Cheryl could hear them, and probably caught sight of their boots in the beams of her flashlight, but he didn’t care. He knew this building like the back of his hand.

Spider-Man pulled Deadpool into an empty classroom.  He realized he was still holding Deadpool’s hand.  He let go, but he didn’t think Deadpool noticed; he was too busy listening for the guard.  Deadpool was reaching for his gun, so Spider-Man acted fast to distract him from potential violence.  He leaned up and quickly gave Deadpool a teasing peck on the mouth to draw his attention.

It worked.  Deadpool was so startled by the kiss that he moved backwards and knocked into a desk, causing it to clatter loudly in the otherwise silent room.  Cheryl had been down the hallway, but she clearly heard the noise.  The glow of the flashlight could be seen bouncing in time to her hurried footsteps as she made her way back to the classroom.

Spider-Man couldn’t help letting out a chuckle at Deadpool’s bewilderment.  He tugged Deadpool’s arm and led him out the back door to the classroom next door, just in time to avoid being seen.  They went out of the second classroom back into the hall.

Cheryl chased them after them, but Spider-Man and Deadpool were not only faster, but better at hiding.  Spider-Man could climb onto the ceiling, and Deadpool was nearly as agile.  With Spider-Man leading the way, they raced through the building, ducking into secluded areas to hide, suppressing giggles as they watched Cheryl walk by, and as soon as she passed they ran in the opposite direction.

Deadpool picked up on the game after the second time Spider-Man snuck a kiss while they were hiding from Cheryl.  It was a game of hide-and-go-seek mixed with tag, where the “it” had no idea she was involved.  He didn’t quite know why he was playing like this.  Maybe being back on campus made Spider-Man feel like a student again.  It was harmless, and fun, and he was always trying to be so responsible all the time that spending a little time on a Friday night having fun with a friend was okay.  As long as Cheryl didn’t actually see them, she would just think it was a couple of the students fooling around.

Turning a corner, Spider-Man recognized the hallway.  It was a dead end, but at the far side was a little nook, a dead space left over when they last renovated the classrooms.  It couldn’t be seen until you were right on top of it, and from his experience at the school, he was pretty certain nobody really remembered it was there.  He had only come across it by chance, one day in the autumn of his freshman year when he had gotten hopelessly lost in the building.  In the four years after that initial discovery, he used it as a place to take a quick nap between classes or when he needed a break from the lab late at night.

He led Deadpool, pulling him by their still joined hands, down to the nook.  Once he turned the corner, Spider-Man pressed his back against the far wall and hauled Deadpool tightly against him until they were both out of sight of anyone in the main hallway.  Their ragged breaths seemed so loud resonating in the small space that he drew Deadpool into an urgent kiss to quiet their panting.  Spider-Man was sure they could be heard echoing down the hallway and Cheryl would find them, but the security guard never came near and before long he was so lost in the kissing that he quite forgot their previous game.

Deadpool’s hands fluttered at Spider-Man’s sides; he didn’t seem to quite know what to do with them, but eventually he settle them at Spider-Man’s waist, his fingertips pressing in tightly. The kisses deepened, the press of lips and nips of teeth giving way to the realization that his tongue was thrusting inside Deadpool’s mouth.  One of Deadpool’s hands crept up over his shoulder blade and the other slid warmly across his lower back in enthusiastic response.

Pressed together, their spandex body suits left so little to the imagination that Spider-Man could clearly feel the pulse and stiffening at Deadpool’s groin.  Flushing almost as red as his suit, he realized Deadpool had to know that Spider-Man’s body was responding in kind.

With a final deep press of his lips against Spider-Man’s, Deadpool pulled back for a moment and stared him in the eyes, his gaze felt like it was piercing through the masks still obstructing the top half of their faces.   Deadpool’s expression immediately turned playful as he darting in so he could trace his tongue across the seam of Spider-Man’s lips.  From there, he moved his kisses downward, mouthing along Spider-Man’s jaw bone, neck, wherever his turned up mask had exposed flesh.

“What do you want to do?” Deadpool whispered huskily in Spider-Man’s ear.

Spider-Man didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t want to think.  He cupped his hands to the sides of Deadpool’s face and wrested Deadpool’s lips back to where he could cover them his own rather than answer.

Deadpool broke out of the kiss immediately.  “I need you to use your words, Baby-Boy,” he insisted.  “I don’t mind taking the lead, but I need you to say clearly what you want.  If you’re not comfortable with this, we can cool things off.”

Spider-Man’s need terrified him.  The actions that would assuage his need terrified him even more.  This had started as a joke.  The kissing was nice, really great in fact, but more?  His mind couldn’t process what the more entailed, not between two guys.  But whatever it was, it meant exposure, suits off, mask off, and kissing Deadpool was one thing, but revealing who he was to him… He couldn’t.  He just couldn’t.

But he also didn’t want to stop.  He was so hard right now and there was the most wonderful friction as he ground against Deadpool.

“I want…I need-,” Spider-Man blurted.  “But I…”

Spider-Man swallowed thickly and tried again, “I’ve never… I’m not…”

Deadpool must have sensed some of the reasons for his reservation, because he replied, “It’s okay.  We can keep our suits on.  Just get ourselves off with some grinding.  Do you want that?”

Relief flooded through Spider-Man.  “Yes,” he agreed.

****************************************

Deadpool didn’t think he’d ever been more turned on than when he heard Spider-Man say ‘yes’.  He let out a throaty moan before kissing Spider-Man, sliding his tongue between those taunting, perfect lips.  Tongue firmly in cheek, he slid his hands lower to firmly and finally grab a double handful of his Baby-boy’s ass.

This ass is even better than we imagined.

Those fabulous ass cheeks fit perfectly into our palms.

He tightened his grip on Spidey’s ass and rolled their hips together in increasingly blissful circles.  Deadpool didn’t last long.  He came with a groan, and with just enough awareness to know that Spider-Man wasn’t done, he continued thrusting through his orgasm.  Spidey came apart a few moments later, climaxing hard with a shocked gasp.

Seems like this was a bit intense for the kid.

The way his legs are shaking, it looks like he’s going to faint.

Realizing that Spider-Man wouldn’t be able to stand on his own, Deadpool pressed against him, using his body and the wall behind them to hold Spider-Man up.  When Deadpool was certain Spidey wasn’t going to pass out, he helped lower the younger man to sit on the ground.

He’d always called him ‘kid’ and ‘Baby-Boy’ but it was just now that it really hit Deadpool how young Spider-Man was.  Not a child or a teenager—he was clearly the man that his name implied, but he was definitely young and inexperienced.  “You ok, Baby-Boy?”

Spider-Man was still a bit shaken up, and kept his gaze down, away from Deadpool.  “I haven’t…not with a guy before…”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

Not a complete cherry, but he did have that same sort of nervous energy.

Spider-Man looked sideways at him.  “Have you?”

Have we?

“Oh yeah, sometimes.”

A mouth is a mouth?

And an ass is an ass.

“Taken it sometimes, too.  Though in general I prefer women.”

We do love boobies.

Not that we’ve had much of anyone of late.

The last time was…

‘We don’t even think about him.’

Huh?

Yeah, sorry.

Yeah, that was a topic he didn’t even like to discuss with his boxes.  Cutting the conversation short, Deadpool reached into one of his side pouches.

“We should get cleaned up a bit.”  He pulled out a few folded cloths and handed one to Spider-Man, keeping the other for himself.

Spider-Man examined the fabric.  “You carry handkerchiefs?”

“Of course.  Why do you think I have these little pouches?  Just because they look cool?”

Duh.

That or holders for extra bullets.

As if we could actually run out of bullets unless the story needed it.

“There’s nothing worse than having a runny nose in a mask,” Deadpool announced.

“That…that’s actually a really good idea.”

“I might be insane, but doesn’t mean I don’t have common sense.”

*******************************************

Spider-Man didn’t know what to say to that.  He looked down at the cloth in his hand and saw it had “D.P.” embroidered in a corner and a small lace trim around the edges.  Seriously?  Oh well, it was something and he needed to clean himself off.

He self-consciously brought the cloth down to his groin.  He glanced over at Deadpool, who was already cleaning himself up, his back half to Spider-Man.

Turning away, Spider-Man slipped his dick out of his pants and gingerly wiped himself down.  He got as much of it as he could cleaned off his pants, but he was going to have to soak and scrub them when he got home if he was going to save them.

When he was as clean as he was going to be for the moment, he straightened his suit.  He turned back towards Deadpool, who had already finished cleaning himself up and was leaning casually against the back wall, looking at him.

Spider-Man’s cheeks burned.  He looked down at the soiled cloth in his hand.  “Um, I can clean this and get it back to you…”

“Nah, don’t bother,” Deadpool dismissed..  “I got plenty.  It’s like a hobby of mine, and they don’t seem to sell much.”

So they sell at all? Spider-Man wondered.  With nothing else to do with it, Spider-Man tucked the cloth into his pants.  Keeping his eyes downcast, Spider-Man said, “Well, it’s getting really late.  We should head home now.”

“Are you going to be alright getting home?” Deadpool asked, and he sounded genuinely concerned and not at all awkward about what they had just done.  Spider-Man supposed that to someone older and more mature, this would be just a thing, nothing to get worked up about.

“I’ll be fine.”  His legs were still a bit shaky–that had been the most intense orgasm he had ever had in his life–but he was going to be swinging home, not walking.   Still unable to look at Deadpool, Spider-Man flailed his hand in meger excuse for a wave.  “So um, bye.”

He dashed off without waiting for a response.

 

Spider-Man wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to get home, but he did.  He barely managed to strip himself out of his suit.  He crumbled it up it in a ball and tossed it into the narrow corner between his bed and the wall, out of sight. Then he flumped down onto his bed.  He needed to wash up, but he had already traveled halfway around the city so things had pretty much dried by now.  He’d have to do laundry, but he’d deal with it tomorrow.  He pulled his blankets over his head and was asleep moments later.

***********************************

Peter woke up itchy.  Why was he itchy?  Without being fully awake, he stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom.  It wasn’t until he was stepping into the shower that he realized he was already naked.

The memories started to vividly flash through his mind.  The fight with S.H.I.E.L.D., the chase through the science building, making out with Deadpool.

And he didn’t just make out with Deadpool, but he had dry-humped Deadpool.

Oh my god.  He had dry-humped Deadpool.

He had always thought that Deadpool couldn’t really be as built as his shirts made him look–it had to be a little padding, but having been pressed up against Deadpool’s chest, Peter had learned quite intimately that Deadpool’s torso was even better than it seemed.  Peter might have been stronger, but he did not have six-pack abs and a chest so tight you could bounce a quarter off it like Deadpool did.

And his thighs…his thighs…They were as big as Peter’s waist, and he suspected Deadpool could snap a guy in half between those thighs.  And the feeling of undulating against them…

And now Peter was hard and he was jerking himself off, and he kept imagining the feel of Deadpool’s hands on his ass, their bodies pressed together, rubbing himself against those thighs…

“Wade! Oh!” Peter cried out as he came.  Breathing in harsh, ragged breaths, he looked down uncomprehending at the come in his hand.  Fuck.  He had just jerked himself off to thoughts of Deadpool’s thighs.

What was wrong with him?  He wasn’t gay.  He wasn’t!  He couldn’t–

Sobbing loudly, he slumped down to his knees, letting the water run over him.

Okay, yes, once a few years ago he might have had a slight crush on Harry, but Harry was good looking, rich, and really sweet, and it was pretty normal for guys to have crushes on their friends.  It didn’t mean anything, and it was right afterwards that Peter had started dating Mary Jane… and, so–  he wasn’t gay!  He wasn’t!

It was all Deadpool’s fault!  He was always around, and always making those jokes, and so of course Peter would be confused!  But he wasn’t gay!  He just–

What was he going to do?  How could he ever face Deadpool again?

He couldn’t.

But he was going to have to tell Deadpool that it was over and it was time for him to leave New York, that’s all there was to it.

The hot water was long gone, but Peter stayed under the tepid water until he couldn’t cry anymore.

*****************************************

Peter accomplished very little that day besides doing a load of laundry which included his sheets and scrubbing his Spider-Man pants clean in the sink.  The day vanished fast without him registering the time passing.

When the sun fell in the sky, he got up, dressed in his spare suit, pulled the mask over his head, and slipped out the window.  Once on the roof, he paused. This was it.  He would go to the meet-up and he would tell Deadpool to leave. His hero-training days were over.  With a deep breath, he shot a strand of web and swung down the street.  His chest felt tight, his body felt heavy.  He was conscious of the weight of gravity pulling him down as he swung through the air.  But he kept going.

He arrived early to the meet-up location, so he wasn’t surprised there were no signs of Deadpool there.  He waited, heart thrumming in his chest.

He waited until dawn at the meet-up spot.  Deadpool never showed.