Controlling Chaos, a Spideypool MCU Fanfic, Issue 06: Hiding in Closets with Boys
(fanart by kogaxe)
Spider-Man led the way to an unassuming, mildly run-down apartment complex. They approached it from the back, through an alleyway made claustrophobic by the surrounding apartment high rises. The area was lit only from the ambient light pouring down from windows overhead. The air was thick with a blend of spicy aromas from the nearby Thai restaurant.
Spider-Man pointed to a darkened window on the third floor. “That’s the place. Nobody seems to be home–we got lucky.”
“Not yet, but the night’s still young,” Deadpool deadpanned.
Spider-Man looked over at Deadpool and tilted his head in confusion. “Huh?” Realization dawned. “Seriously, Deadpool?”
Deadpool’s cheeky grin was apparent through his mask.
“Enough,” Spider-Man dismissed. “We’ve got a mission. Take the stairs there and follow me up.”
With Deadpool trudging his way up the rusted fire escape behind him, Spider-Man swung up the wall towards the window. Peering in, Spider-Man saw that his guess was correct–the apartment was currently unoccupied. Next, he examined the window; it was open a few inches, but there was a lock holding it from opening any further. The only other window to the apartment, several feet to the right, was filled with a giant air conditioning box, preventing anyone from entering that way in a stealthy manner. Spider-Man looked back to the window in front of him and considered what to do. He could break the window but he didn’t know what sort of security the building had, and he really didn’t want to leave any hint that someone had been there.
While he mentally debated, Deadpool arrived beside him. After a quick glance to ascertain the situation, the mercenary reached into one of his hip pouches. He pulled out a few metal pins which he twisted into the lock.
“You can pick locks?” Spider-Man asked, impressed.
“Yeah, just a little trick I picked up a long time ago,” Deadpool explained in a low tone as his hands deftly worked at the lock. “I do sometimes have to sneak in for my jobs, though that generally costs extra. It’s much easier to break into things with loud and entertaining giant explosions.” After a few more twists of his fingers, there was a satisfying click. “There we go!” Deadpool bragged. “One open window.”
Spider-Man ignored him and eased himself into the apartment, dodging an end table with a lamp that were under the window. Deadpool slipped in behind, knocking the end table. Spider-Man’s quick reflexes caught the lamp before it hit the floor. Unfortunately, he put himself right in front of Deadpool, who then stumbled into him. Already off balance, Spider-Man fell, taking Deadpool with him. Spider-Man smacked back-first onto the hardwood floor with Deadpool sprawled on top of him in an uncomfortably intimate position.
Immediately Deadpool gushed, “Oh Spidey, just because you bought me dinner doesn’t mean you can have your way with me! You CAN have your way with me, of course, but not because you bought me dinner.”
“Get off me!” Spider-Man exclaimed with urgency, more loudly than he intended.
“Don’t wanna let you go.” Deadpool snuggled his face into Spider-Man’s neck and wiggled his hips from side to side in a way that was entirely unsettling.
Spider-Man could feel his face burn with a blush and he felt the heat course down his body, centering at his groin. Mortified that his body was reacting to Deadpool’s actions, Spider-Man flung Deadpool forcefully off. He didn’t give any thought to where he was throwing Deadpool, besides off of him, immediately. Belatedly, he was a little grateful that Deadpool landed on the couch, but only because he feared the noise Deadpool would have made landing on the hardwood floor.
Sitting up on the couch, Deadpool pouted, “Aw, Spidey, I thought we were having a moment.”
It took several long breaths for Spider-Man to calm down. He got back on his feet and berated, “This isn’t the time to be fooling around. We’re on a mission.”
“So when we’re done with this then we can fool around?” Deadpool asked coyly. He spread his legs, arched his back, and ran his hand along his thigh seductively.
Spider-Man looked away and growled, “I’m going to throw you out the window.”
“That wasn’t a no,” Deadpool pointed out.
Without looking, Spider-Man shot web at Deadpool, encasing the lower half of his mask in sticky webbing.
While Deadpool peeled at the goo which prevented him from talking, Spider-Man took the opportunity to examine the apartment. It was a good sized apartment for a one-bedroom in the city. There was a kitchenette to the left and on the other side a door to the bedroom. The furniture was basic IKEA, but the place was cluttered with expensive toys like a huge television, surround sound system, and the latest video game console. To ward off his growing sense of jealousy, Spider-Man reminded himself that crime only paid in the short term. This dealer would soon be locked up.
“This place smells,” Deadpool complained, having successfully removed the webbing from his mouth.
“So do you,” Spider-Man shot back. “Make yourself useful and look around the place, alright?”
“What am I looking for?” Deadpool asked.
“Vials like this.” Spider-Man held up the small clear bottle no bigger than his pinky. “Clues to who his boss might be.” Spider-Man looked around, finally spotting a computer on a desk in the bedroom. He pointed to it. “His email and contacts. Other drugs or illegal activities. Y’know, the whole ‘bad guy’ stuff.”
“One question.”
Spider-Man rolled his eyes under his mask. “What?”
Deadpool looked Spider-Man up and down. “Where were you keeping that vial?”
“Drop dead,” Spider-Man grumbled as he walked away from Deadpool. As he crossed through the bedroom towards the computer, he slipped the vial back into the storage compartment on his web shooter. He sat down at the desk and moved the mouse to wake the computer up. The screen remained dark for a long moment, then brightened to reveal the logon screen. He tried a few common passwords but none worked and a quick search around the computer failed to find any serendipitous pieces of paper listing the password on them. Spider-Man cursed. Who the hell locked a desktop?
“Problems?” Deadpool asked, coming up behind Spider-Man.
“Locked,” Spider-Man explained.
“Can you hack your way in?”
Spider-Man shook his head. “I’m more of a bio-chem sort of nerd, not a computer geek.”
“That sucks.”
“Understatement.” He wasn’t getting anywhere with the computer. Spider-Man pushed out away from the desk and noticed for the first time that Deadpool was holding something. “What’s that?”
“Seemed like one of those ‘illegal’ things you asked me to look out for,” Deadpool responded as he held up the device for Spider-Man to look at. It appeared to be some sort of sci-fi-esque blaster. “There’s a whole case of them in the other room.”
Before Spider-Man could examine the device any further, he felt the tingle of his Spidey-Sense. A fraction of a second later, he heard the sound of someone coming closer in the hallway outside the apartment. “He’s coming,” he hissed to Deadpool. “Quick, hide!”
The window they had come in was on the far side of the apartment–they would never reach it in time. There was only one place to hide, and Spider-Man didn’t like it. With no other choice, he grabbed Deadpool by the arm and dragged him. Caught off guard, Deadpool nearly dropped the blaster. He juggled it for a moment before he managed to get it back firmly in hand. Spider-Man shoved him into the closet. As he followed behind, Spider-Man twisted his foot on a large pair of shoes and fell heavily onto Deadpool with a gasp of pain. Deadpool, for once, didn’t joke around. He grabbed Spider-Man by the torso and hauled him back to his feet with one hand while pulling the closet door shut behind them with the other. The door didn’t fully close, and a crack of ambient light followed them into the cramped quarters.
The closet was tiny, and Spider-Man was pressed uncomfortably close to Deadpool, who still had his arm around him. Spider-Man wished there was a quiet way for him to punch Deadpool for taking advantage of the situation. He started to pull away when he realized that Deadpool wasn’t fooling after all. He had angled himself so his body was a shield between Spider-Man and the door. In his other hand, Deadpool held one of his guns that he had somehow swapped with the blaster he had previously been holding.
Annoyance flashed through him, and Spider-Man roughly elbowed the mercenary. Deadpool was jolted out of his vigilance and Spider-Man took advantage of his surprise to push him out of the way. Spider-Man angled himself so he was the one at the closet door, just in time to hear the apartment door open.
The narrow gap of the closet door, the distance across the bedroom, and the doorway between the bedroom and living room, gave Spider-Man had a frustratingly limited frame of view. He watched as a pair of male figures hauled a third man into the front door and out of sight as they moved further into the apartment. From the sound of it, they dumped the guy on the floor. There were some rummaging noises as the men moved around the apartment. Then the two guys left, the door slamming firmly behind them.
***************
It was cramped in the closet, and while any other time Deadpool would have rejoiced at being pressed up against a cutie like Spider-Man, he really didn’t like being in such an enclosed place when he might need to fight. Particularly after the adorable fellow that Deadpool rather fancied, who didn’t have a healing factor, decided to push him out of the way in order to stand point.
Long moments passed before Spider-Man whispered to him, “I think we’re safe now. His friends have gone. He must have passed out drunk or something.”
He…he thinks those were that guy’s friends.
Were we ever that naïve?
‘No. It’s so freaking adorable. I just want to grab him and squeeze him.’
And then have our way with him.
‘That too, but we’ve got to deal with this mess first.’
He’s going to be really upset when he realizes.
We’re going to have to break it to him gently.
******************
“Oh, baby-boy,” Deadpool said, his voice unusually gentle. “Those weren’t his friends.”
Spider-Man hushed the mercenary, then anxiously looked for a sign to see if the guy in the other room had heard him.
“There isn’t anyone who can hear us,” Deadpool insisted.
Spider-Man was chilled by Deadpool’s words. Without replying, Spider-Man cautiously opened the closet door and skulked through the bedroom towards the main room. Deadpool followed less carefully. There was no movement in the other room at all.
Peering around the corner, Spider-Man saw the body of the dealer sprawled carelessly on the floor in front of the couch. Time seemed to stop for a moment; the only noise was his heart pounding in his chest.
Deadpool had come up behind him. “Clean,” he noted after a glance down at the body. “Pro-hit.”
“Pro-hit?” Spider-Man asked without looking, his eyes still stuck on the body on the floor. It wasn’t his heart, he realized, but one of those annoyingly loud manual clocks, insistently ticking.
Deadpool moved through the main room, looking around. He explained as he moved about, “Professional hit. The aim was dead on perfect, right in the heart. There were no extra shots, didn’t even need to double tap him. The person who shot this guy knew what he was doing.”
Spider-Man had seen dead people before, in the battle of New York, but he hadn’t seen someone he knew, who he had seen alive just hours before, now dead at his feet. The annoying ticking pounded in his head. Deadpool’s movements had finally broken the spell and Spider-Man managed to tear his eyes away from the body. “What are you looking for?” he asked.
Deadpool didn’t stop as he explained, “With a pro hit like this, for the body to be brought back to the victim’s house, it means one of two things. First, the killer, or whoever hired him, wanted the body found.”
The ticking beat in time with his Spidey-Sense. Dread filled Spider-Man. “And the other?”
“Because they don’t.”
They saw it at the same time. A backpack half under the couch that hadn’t been there minutes before. His Spidey-Senses screamed at him but Spider-man had no time to get out of the way. He managed a strangled “Run!” when a flash of red rushed toward him and the world exploded.