Spider and the Fool [SPIDEYPOOL ♥️]

6- Date...?

Peter just finished pulling on his mask for his meet up with the famous Deadpool when it dawned on him. Wait a second... Was this... a date? The teen froze and stared at himself in his tall mirror, frowning at his own reflection as he thought hard, analyzing every possible aspect in his mind. The man invited him, alone, to eat with him at a restaurant... but it wasn't anything fancy, so... But still!

The 16-year-old ended scoffing loudly, mocking his own doubt. As if Deadpool would invite him, a kid, on a date. Yeah, real funny, Peter. Though he was almost seventeen but that didn't matter. It's not like he'd be Deadpool's type anyway. What a joke...

Wait, why did it even matter? Peter flinched and hastily turned around, shaking his head vigorously at the thought. No, he absolutely did NOT care about whether or not he was the mercenary's type. Because, why would he? It's not like he liked the guy or anything...

With a concerning laugh, Peter opened his window and climbed out, sticking on the wall of the tower. Sure, normally he could have just gone downstairs and told his dads that he was going to scout the city, but he was a terrible liar and they'd know something was up.

And it's not like he could just tell them he was meeting Deadpool. No matter if it was a date or not. Tony would never let him go. So, he snuck out and swung into the sky between buildings as he tried to find the little place called 'Fonzo's' where he had agreed to meet Wade.

Once he set foot in the alley, he noticed the used little red sign hung on the old building that read 'Fonzo's'. It was a little hidden, but Peter luckily hadn't arrived late. He pushed the door open and a bell dinged weakly. The teen's eyes darted left and right until he spotted Wade waving at him enthusiastically. "Hey, baby boy!" Peter grumbled. Why had he agreed to this again?

"Hey, Wade." The mercenary smiled as Peter sat down in front of him at a little plastic table in a corner of the room. Peter, not knowing what to add, looked around. "You come here often?" Wade shrugged. "More or less. It's a good place but you got to know what to pick." Peter nodded and, saving him from having to talk again, Deadpool asked him a question.

"How was your day?" That threw Peter off. He wasn't expecting such a normal, polite question asked with such a sweet voice and honest interest for the answer. "Huh... It was okay. You?" Wade seemed to think for a minute before dismissing the question with a motion of his gloved hand. "Not much, nothing interesting. So, what happened in yours? You went to school, I guess? Unless you're older than I think you are, or you've dropped out but, I mean, you don't seem like a drop-out." He laughed nervously but Peter didn't sense that bashfulness.

"Yeah no, I'm sixteen, actually. And, no, dropping out is not on my plan. Anyway-" "You're WHAT, now?!" Wade exclaimed, shocked, hands grasping the sides of the table at the sudden declaration. "...What?" "How in the HELL can you be sixteen? You're so young! You're a kid!" Wade pointed at him, troubled, and Peter crossed his arms on his chest in defense and huffed, an annoyed expression now adorning his face underneath his mask but still noticeable by the mercenary.

His eyes glared at the man under the thin layer of Spandex. "I'm NOT a kid. I turn seventeen in a week! Plus, what age could you possibly think I'd be?" Wade exhaled deeply and scratched his neck in embarrassment. "Like 20-something, I don't know. I mean, sure you're a shorty but you're Spider-Man and all, so I figured you must have been an adult to do all that dangerous stuff."

Peter frowned, still feeling insulted by the anti-hero treating him like he was some sort of child. He had enough of his dads for that, he didn't need it from Deadpool. "So, you don't think I'm good enough at what I do just because I'm young? I'll have you know I can still help the city even though I'm sixteen! I won't let you tell me what I can and cannot do!" Wade sat there, shocked by such a bold response from the teen who was huffing, avoiding his gaze as he stared out the window, leaning back on his chair.