Chapter Text
Well. This was happening.
Now.
Not that Peter thought it would happen now, but it was happening now, it seemed.
Perhaps Peter had been running on the high from escaping death. Perhaps it was the fact that it was an inevitable truth that needed to be addressed, or perhaps it was the fact that Peter seriously wondered what his Aunt’s take on all of this was.
So he had blurted - plainly and simply - the moment his Aunt had sat back down beside him, “I need to tell you something.”
There had still been other people in the room. Banner, for one, who was adjusting monitors and going through routine checks. Tony had been loitering just outside the room, chatting idly with Steve who had just finished his own conversation with Peter.
The moment Peter had blurted that statement, the room went quiet.
In a flash, Tony and Steve were gone from the doorway, and Banner looked around before politely - and quickly - excusing himself and shut the door.
That left just Peter and May.
“Yes Peter?” she asked simply. She was still that almost disturbing kind of calm understanding she had been since he had woken up.
It’s what prompted this in the first place maybe. She was just so.... Understanding.
However, despite his sudden confidence he had in his previous sudden statement vanished as fast as it had come. For Peter had realized that with that statement, the crashing reality that this conversation was happening and it was happening now.
Peter opened his mouth, closed it again, and when he opened it once more, all that came was a rough hoarse squeak.
Dammit.
May simply took up the cup of water from his bedside and held it up to help Peter to drink, not saying a single thing.
Peter took the drink as a welcome distraction as half of himself demanded to know what the hell he was doing, that this needed to stop now. The other half pleading for him to continue, because this insane lie had to stop.
“Thanks,” he muttered after taking a few good long dregs.
His aunt gently took away the cup, placing it gingerly on the side table before folding her hands in her lap.
“So,” she started, her voice ever-so-kind, but also ever-so-careful. “What do you want to tell me?”
“Um -” again the words died on Peter’s lips, but instead of them coming out hoarsely, they just ended. He closed his mouth and furrowed his brow.
May reached and pat his shoulder. “You should rest, Peter,” she insisted, her hand moving from his shoulder so her thumb could swipe across his cheek. “You’ve only just woken up, after all.”
Peter saw that for it was; an opening. It was an opening to take her offer and run, and she wouldn’t judge him if he didn’t broach the subject again. She was offering him the door to let the subject go; and yet - and yet, her eyes were so sad.
What she must have gone through these past few days.
What did she know?
What did she not know?
It wasn’t fair to her. His want for her not to know had long since passed any point of meaning, and...
Peter moved his hand, wrapping his cold fingers around hers, and tugged her hand away from his face. It wasn’t an unkind gesture, he just wanted to hold her hand.
“Peter?”
“I have to tell you something,” Peter said quietly, with less of the gusto as before, but he meant it far, far more this time.
Did she look relieved?
“What is it?” she asked quietly, hopefully.
He looked at her, and her expression already said, ‘I know what you are going to tell me,’ but he just had to say it.
“I’ve been lying to you,” Peter looked down, looking at her hand in his own pale one. “A lot, actually. I mean, not normal teenage stuff about curfew, homework or video-game stuff. Big stuff.”
“I thought we already talked about me noticing you skipping out at night -”
“Yeah but I still am lying to you, May. Big time. I don’t know how much you know - but I know you do know something,” Peter met her eyes as he said this. “It’s sort of obvious. You should be freaking out more. We’re in the Avengers Tower - you should be freaking out.”
May was silent for a moment, took a breath, replying with her words chosen very carefully, “What do you think I know?”
Peter wanted to duck away his eyes, to look away in shame. She was looking at him with such a look of assurance and acceptance that all he wanted to do was sink into the bed in shame for ever thinking it was a good idea to lie to her at all.
Instead, he kept his gaze caught with hers. “That I’m Spider-Man.”
Silence.
Then, Peter’s hand was let go of and Aunt May cupped his face in both her hands - as she seemed to do so often as of late - and firmly kissed his forehead.
“Thank you,” she breathed, her voice catching.
Startled when she pulled back, Peter replied, “Thank you? For - for what?”
“For telling me, Peter.”
“I - but -” Peter swallowed. “I lied to you. I - I told you that Spider-Man was a friend. When you told me that you knew about some of my weird powers I had a chance and I still didn’t say anything. I lied to you.”
“I cannot even begin to imagine how hard it was for to tell me,” May swiftly said, her hands back to being folded into her lap, but Peter still felt the warmth of them against his face. “I was willing to wait.”
“I - I -” Peter lowered his gaze. He still felt shame despite how kind she was being. Was she holding back for his sake? “How long did you -?”
“Did I know? Longer than I probably think I’d care to admit to myself,” May sighed. “However, I only had it confirmed just a few days ago.”
“- Oh.” So when he got injured then.
May’s kept her tone light as she continued to speak, plainly masking whatever it was she was really feeling, “Though that confirmation nearly never happened. It had been a matter of debate...”
Peter looked up. “Debate?”
May nodded. “Let me explain. See, they had called me immediately that night.”
“They?”
“Tony Stark,” May said. “He said that you had gotten into an accident and he was ‘en route’ with a doctor to get to you.”
So probably the moment Steve had called them for help.
“An accident?” Peter prompted.
“As I said - telling me what really happened was a matter of debate, apparently.” She added bitterly, “He didn’t tell me anything more than that you had ‘been in an accident,’ and ‘not to worry’ before he hung up.”
That sounded like something that Stark would do, given how the Avengers had been aware and Peter himself had emphatically told the man not to tell his Aunt he was Spider-Man.
“I was contacted again,” May continued, “I was completely beside myself with worry I’ll have you know - I thought that they had done something to you again, if this had to do with your ‘friendship with Spider-Man’ again,” May continued.
Peter flinched. “What did he say this time?”
“That I was getting premium escort to the tower. That ‘everything would be explained there,” May huffed, tapping a finger against her crossed arms. “Only when I arrived did I learn that there had been an argument between him and two other members of the Avengers over all of this.”
“An argument.”
“Yes. Well. Tony Stark felt it necessary to hide what really happened from me. He said something along the lines that it was in ‘Peter’s best interest,’” she made air quotes as she spoke, “Apparently Mr. Rogers and Dr. Banner both thought otherwise. They thought it was imperative that I know.”
Peter glanced up at the doorway, wondering idly if either of the two men were listening. It wasn’t likely... But still.
He suddenly remembered something Banner had started to say earlier, when Peter had been wary about Banner divulging too much of his biology in front of his Aunt; ‘Is it because your Aunt is here? Peter, she already -’
“Oh,” Peter realized. “I should have noticed before.”
“It’s fine.” May shook her head. “I didn’t exactly want them to tell you that I knew.”
This confused Peter the most.
“Why? After what I put you through -”
“First of all, you didn’t put me through anything Peter Benjamin Parker,” May sharply replied. “Second, I wanted you to tell me.”
Peter furrowed his brow. “I don’t... I don’t understand. Why aren’t you more... angry about this? Why aren’t you - you- I dunno? More upset? Yelling? Feeling betrayed?”
“Peter, do you think you’ve betrayed me?” May almost sounded shocked - saddened even.
“I ... Yeah.” He shrugged. “I guess.”
“Peter. You haven’t betrayed me, and as much as my parental-minded brain wants to get mad at you for not telling me, what right do I have to speak? I don’t know how or why or what caused you to become what you are now, and I can’t possibly put myself in your shoes to even fathom what you must have been going through.”
“I should have told you earlier.”
“Yes,” May agreed, “You should have.”
Peter took a shaky breath.
May continued her assurances, “I’m not about to punish you for it. You’re too good at punishing yourself. But. I do want to know everything. I mean everything. I don’t want to be out of the picture anymore, Peter. I want to know every detail.”
That was more than reasonable to him. She deserved to know everything.
“I can do that,” Peter eventually said.. “Everything. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
“Good,” May seemed satisfied.
With that said, another silence fell between them.
Of all the ways that reveal happened over the years in his mind’s eye, Peter never imagined it to happen like this.
It looked like it wasn’t going to be an on-the-spot interrogation fest, but something drawn out over time.
It... made him feel both more anxious but a hell of a lot better.
“Peter,” May broke the silence.
“Yeah?”
“You know I love you right?”
Peter shifted, “Well. Yeah. You say it a lot.”
“I mean it.”
“I... I know.”
“Even if you are somehow part-spider.”
Peter choked on a surprised laugh. “What?”
“And secretly learned how to sew without asking me, your loving, caring and doting Aunt,” she said dramatically hand against her chest.
“May!”
“So I mean it when I say I want to know everything, mister. All the details. Like where are you hiding that sewing machine, when did you learn to sew, and also spandex, Peter?”
“Why is that the first thing you interrogate me on?” Peter incredulously cried back at her. “Sewing? Spandex?”
“I have a right to know,” she huffed. Then smiled.
He smiled back at her gratefully.
God he loved her.
May stood, tugging at Peter’s sheets and started to pull away the pillows that supported him. “Okay, I think it’s time for sleep though. As much as I want to drill you on everything.”
“Wait -” Peter tried to keep himself propped with his elbows, but May effortlessly pushed him down, tucking him firmly. “- You’re not going to keep asking me questions?”
“As much as I want to - no. We have a lifetime for that, Peter.”
Peter had nothing to say to that, and May just smoothed his hair back fondly.
“Sleep Peter. You’re going to need the rest.”
“Do you have any two-by-fours? In the dark grey?”
The clinking of plastic, shuffling of sheets, and low voices filled Peter’s room.
It had been three days since he had woken up, and only one day since Bruce had given him the okay to be moved to a different room and allowed to sit up and walk for longer periods of time.
It was a much nicer room, a little closer to the one that he had at home, and his Aunt’s room was just next door, so he didn’t have to worry about being too far from her.
At that very moment though, Peter was sitting upright, legs crossed, cheek resting in one hand as he picked through plastic pieces.
There was an IV was hooked into his wrist - taped gently in place - but Peter hardly noticed, or cared. He knew what it was there for, and he hardly was going to argue with Dr. Banner of all people.
“No...” was the slow reply, along with the shuffling of their pieces. “No... I don’t see it. I have black ones?”
Peter shook his head, thumbing through the instruction booklet. “I gotta have the dark grey,” he picked up the book, turning the instructions this way and that. “Where could it have -” He spotted it. “- Aha!”
Peter held up the piece in triumph - it had been hidden under the manual and the folds of the sheets of his be - grinning ear-to-ear.
Steve chuckled. “Found it then?”
Peter clicked the piece triumphantly in place. “Found it.”
“Good. I finished my part,” Steve had it in his hands as he spoke, holding it delicately.
“Dude. Awesome. You did that really fast,” Peter gingerly took the piece, and turned it over. “This is great! When we’re done, it’s going to be so awesome.”
Never did Peter ever think that the first time that he would be teaming up with Captain America of all people, would it be over LEGO of all things.
Sure, he had imagined them fighting crime together - as all young children sometimes dreamed of being a superhero like Captain America.
Those dreams just increased one-hundred fold when he got his powers and became Spider-Man. He had pipe-dreams of swinging through buildings on some mission with the Captain, saving people and thwarting crime.
Never did he think he’d be sitting with Steve Rogers, both in casual clothes, working on a model of a spaceship together.
Peter picked up the model part he had finished and happily clicked it together with Steve’s. “Well. Two down, a lot more to go - are you sure you want to keep helping me? I didn’t expect for Mr. Stark to pick up such a big kit when I asked for something to keep me busy, so...”
“Wouldn’t a big kit keep you busy though?”
“Yes. Er, what I meant was -” Peter laughed, “- You don’t have to keep helping if you don’t want to.”
Steve was already turning the manual toward himself and flipping to the next few pages. He started to rifle through the pieces as he spoke, “I enjoy this,” he stated simply.
Peter held back a flush - it was like he was some seven-year-old - and just blew out air, ruffling his own bangs. “Right. Let’s keep going,” he agreed, reaching for the instruction manual.
A knock on the door didn’t move Peter’s attention from the instructions - even Steve didn’t even look up - he just called out a ‘come in,’ as he stuck two pieces together.
“You know,” a drawling voice started immediately upon the person’s entry, “Steve here technically isn’t allowed to play with LEGOS. He sort of exceeds the age-limit on the box. Or just about.”
Peter looked up at Steve who rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder at Tony Stark. “What is it?”
“I hate to interrupt your lovely bonding-session,” Tony gesturing between them. “It’s beautiful, really. Brings a tear to my eye. But Natasha and Clint are back.”
Peter straightened, as did Steve.
“And?”
“And? Looks like our ‘guest’ was indeed telling us the complete truth when he said he was going to cooperate with us. They found exactly what he said they’d find.”
Steve furrowed his brows.
“Look, I know you don’t trust him worth an inch -”
“Of course I don’t -”
“- But now that we have those documents that he was given, I think it’s about time we had a better full-on chat.”
Steve frowned.
Was this a conversation that Peter should be overhearing? He was so used to them skirting around subjects when around him.
Peter knew that Deadpool was in the building - he was shocked he was alive even - and Peter knew that wherever Natasha and Clint had gone to was involved with his whole situation.
Never before had they spoken about it all so frankly in front of him.
Before, when he asked anything, they gave him vague answers that he’d, ‘know soon enough,’ or ‘we’ll tell you when we know more.’ But that was all.
So Peter tried again, “What’s going on?”
Steve was frowning at Tony. “I don’t like this game you’re playing.”
Tony shrugged unapologetic ally. “It’s just the way I play.”
“You know I don’t trust him.”
“And you know what he requested when he said he’d do a tell-all.”
“I know what he requested! The documents should be good enough for him!” Steve stood, suddenly and surprisingly angry. “He has no right to be demanding anything from us let alone -”
“Well why don’t we just let -”
“This isn’t fair, Tony,” Steve hissed. “You know exactly how I feel about this situation, you already know my position on it. Hell, you know Clint’s position on it, and Banner’s, and Natasha’s and his Aunt’s.”
“Don’t speak for his Aunt, she already -” Tony started to say.
Peter looked between them. “Is this about me?”
Steve ran a hand down his face, and Tony looked triumphant but grim. “Every word, kiddo.”
“What’s going on?”
“Well -”
“Tony,” Steve interrupted.
“What? You were the one that said we shouldn’t keep him in the dark about everything? So why don’t we just let him decide -”
“Because this is a bad idea,” Steve turned to look at Peter. “You know that I would not intend to hide information from you, correct? I want you to know as much as we do, but what we are talking about here is a matter of safety and not about -”
“He should choose that.”
“Why can’t you just video-feed him in?”
“Our ‘guest’ said it’s a no-go.”
“Our prisoner has no rights here.”
“I think we should listen to him?”
“Are you insane?”
“Not as much as he is, but maybe?”
“What are you guys talking about? What does Deadpool want that I have to have an opinion about?” Peter asked.
Steve sighed, looking defeated. “You.”
Peter stiffened.
Tony held up a hand. “Not quite so literally,” he quickly explained - Peter relaxed, “What he wants is for you to be there when we finally have our full ‘conversation’ with him. He refuses to say a thing to us until you are in the room as well.”
Peter didn’t know how to feel about that. “Why does he -?”
“Because he’s a deranged lunatic,” Steve stated flatly. “A deranged lunatic,” he turned to Tony, pointing a finger at his chest, “That tried to kill him remember?”
“Clear as day,” was Tony’s sharp reply, as he moved the finger. “He also cooperated the moment he was able to talk and breathe again. He told us exactly where to find where to find his current hideout, told us exactly where to get the information he was given, and never once lied about a single piece of information.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Obviously. I am not asking you to trust him, I am asking Peter -” Tony glanced at Peter when he said this, “- to trust me enough to keep him safe so we can get what we need out of Deadpool.”
“I don’t like this,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip.
“Believe me, I don’t either,” Tony said in a less confrontational tone. “I will have the man behind glass that not even our very own Hulk could smash through. He will be able to hear and see Peter, but nothing else.”
Steve looked unconvinced, but his shoulders relaxed a little. He appeared to be silently debating with himself before he focused on Peter, “What do you want to do?”
What did Peter want to do? There was a lot for him to consider.
Peter decided to ask a question. “So Deadpool will tell you guys everything if I’m there in the room?”
“That’s right - but -”
“What will he say if I don’t show up?” Peter asked Tony.
“We’re not sure. Likely nothing at all. He was pretty serious about it,” Tony replied.
“Why?”
“Why does he want you to be there?”
“Yeah.”
“Hell if I know. I can tell you this one thing, he keeps saying sorry.”
“Excuse me?”
Steve clicked his tongue. “I wouldn’t believe a single thing that came out of his mouth. He’s not sorry.”
“I think he is,” Tony stated. “I can’t even begin to fathom what is going on in his head, but I think - just maybe - he feels genuine remorse for what he did.”
Peter frowned, turning over the LEGO in his hands so he could think. “What do you think I should do?”
“What I think and what I want you to do, kid, are different things. I think you should attend. I want you to make your own choice here.”
“Steve?”
Steve held up his hand. “I’ll be no help. If it were up to me, he wouldn’t even be in the building. I emphatically don’t think you should go.”
Peter thought. “So if I go, he’ll tell you guys everything he knows? I mean, he’ll answer any of your questions?”
“So he says.”
“This is why I don’t like the way you approached this Tony,” Steve started to say, “You plainly made it seem like if Peter doesn’t go then somehow it’s being a detriment to us -”
“What about mine?” Peter said.
Steve turned to look at him, as if the thought never came to him. Tony raised his eyebrows.
“Yours?”
“Yeah. Would he answer any of my questions?”
Tony and Steve exchanged looks.
“I- I don’t see why he wouldn’t? I never thought of you asking questions, I had only figured he wanted you present. Proof that you’re alive,” Tony tapped his chin. “Something like that.”
As they talked, Steve was looking at Peter, one arm crossed over his chest with his other hand balled up near his mouth. After a moment, he took a breath, closed his eyes, and looked like he was silently reprimanding himself.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he suddenly stated, turning back to Tony.
“Really,” Tony sound disbelieving.
Steve nodded. “Really. Giving him a chance to ask questions of Deadpool might be good. If he is going to be as cooperative as you say he is.”
Tony held up his hands, “I believe him, okay?”
Steve didn’t respond, instead focusing back onto Peter and sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “I promise that all of us will be there, and if you are uncomfortable at any point, you can leave. No matter what that man says or does, you are in complete control.”
“Really?”
“Really. You deserve that much.”
At first, the idea of going face-to-face with the man that had hunted him down through the city like some horror-movie was beyond frightening to Peter.
That was, if flickering memories of a genuinely scared, terrified and confused Deadpool hadn’t come back to him.
He had clear mental images of that fearful face as the reality had crashed down on the mercenary.
Deadpool had been terrified.
Truly, wholly, genuinely terrified.
And that was something that Peter couldn’t quite understand or come to grips with. Deadpool had been shaken to his core and had done such an about-face when it came to him that Peter just had to know why.
He had to understand.
“Yeah. I want to go.”
“Good! That’s finally settled.”
When Peter said he wanted to go, he didn’t think it would be that day. Apparently in finding whatever Natasha and Clint had found, the whole situation became urgent enough for everyone to be immediately called together.
It had happened so fast.
Tony had left the room, and within minutes, Peter had his IV moved to a walking pole, and his Aunt had been there to assure him that everything was going to be okay.
She had chosen to not to attend the meeting - stating plainly, with an emotion-filled voice, she wouldn’t be able to handle it - but wanted to know everything afterwards.
Peter promised she would.
Steve’s firm and supportive grip on his shoulder gave Peter the resolve he needed to enter the room.
“Oh my god he’s alive!”
Peter jumped, looking up to see Deadpool. Deadpool who was indeed - as Tony had said - behind several layers of near-invisible glass. Though he was pressed against it like a child in a zoo.
The mercenary was still in his costume, a huge gash torn across the chest - right where the shield had been embedded - and despite that, he still managed to look akin to an excited puppy.
“Holy shit you’re alive! Look at you! Alive! You’re alive!” Deadpool said, nearly bouncing. “Holy crap! These shit-holes didn’t want to tell me if you were alive or not! Do you know how bullshit that is?” Deadpool pulled back from the glass to put his hands on his hips.
Peter blinked. “Uh...”
“I know, I know,” Deadpool continued. “It’s completely fair. I’m the real asshole here. But still. I was worried out of my fucking mind. I thought I had killed you.” He paused, adding, “You’re looking really good, kid.”
Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. “Thank you?”
“Don’t,” Deadpool held up a hand. “Seriously. Don’t”
Peter was guided by Steve toward a chair - who was glaring daggers at Deadpool the entire time - but not before Clint and Natasha entered the room. Natasha held a bag in her hand, and Clint crossed the room in an instant.
“Peter!”
Peter happily took the archer’s warm embrace.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to see you,” Barton immediately said, “I had been on a mission when it happened, and had been sent off on another one as soon as that one had finished. If I could have I would have come to see you -”
“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled into his chest. “I get it.”
“Aww! Oh my god - that’s so sweet.”
Clint let go of Peter and shot Deadpool a look that could kill.
“Ow. Bullseye,” Deadpool winced, rubbing his neck idly.
Natasha threw down the bag at Deadpool’s feet outside the glass. “We found what you were talking about.”
“All of it?” Deadpool asked.
“All of it. You hide your information very well.”
“Yeah well. Just ‘cause I’m good at finding stuff, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t hide my shit well. Those are for these eyes only,” Deadpool gestured to his own face with two fingers.
Peter was sat down, Clint standing at his right, and Steve at his left, both of the men’s arms were crossed.
Peter nervously held onto the pole of his IV bag.
“Where did you get these documents?” Natasha asked.
“Just get right to the point, don’tcha? You just just swoop right in there,” Deadpool made a diving motion with his hand, “No preamble. No ‘how are you’s’ or ‘how’s the weather’, just straight to the point -”
Natasha crossed her own arms, and just looked at him.
“Yeesh. Okay. Fine. You held up your end of the bargain,” Deadpool glanced at Peter, “I’ll hold up mine. I got those from the proxy who hired me. Handed them to me all nice and pretty-like in those manila folders.”
“And where did they get them?”
“Said they got that from their employer,” Deadpool answered easily. “Look, and before you ask, no - I don’t know who that is.”
Steve spoke, “Why wouldn’t you know who it was who hired you to kill?”
“That isn’t so unusual, Mon Capitaine. Most people don’t want a mercenary to know who they are. You know, the whole killing thing. Sort of a double-edged sword. Often gets them killed.”
“Then how do you know that any of what you told was legitimate?”
“I might be bat-shit insane, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thorough. I take my job very, very seriously,” he said darkly. “I want to know every detail of my mark. I want to know absolutely everything. Whoever it was wanted me to kill Spider-Guy here,” Deadpool nodded to Peter, “Went way out of their way to convince me he was worth my time.”
“And what convinced you?”
“What convinced you?” Deadpool shot right back at them.
Peter noticed their collective flinch.
“Aha. Can’t play that high-and-mighty better-than-thou card can ya? See, I heard that you guys went after him. I heard about all of that. It’s also part of those documents there,” he pointed. “Also, I just hear things from other people. I’m not blind to the goings-on of this city.”
“Your point?” Tony asked.
“My point is this - you also got to ask yourself how you were as easily fooled as I was.” Deadpool explained.
“And?”
“And? I’m nothing like you guys! I’m an asshole. I have the moral code of a degenerate, but I do have some morals. Like; rape equals bad, don’t fucking hurt or abuse a child - oh - and, don’t be an asshole. Everything else? Fair fucking game.”
“So?”
“So.” Deadpool stepped closer to the window. It was shocking how one moment he looked like an absolute childish idiot, the next the most dangerous man in the world. “Why did moral-values-that-of-a-saint get so convinced that wee Parker here is an issue?” He thumbed over at Peter.
Peter looked at the others, who looked uncomfortable.
“See? Look. I was fucked with. I fucked up, I get that, I admit that. But you also gotta realize that you were duped too. Duped bad. The funny thing is? I’m harder to dupe than you guys it seems, because the work there is more thorough I bet.”
Tony looked at Natasha for confirmation, and she nodded.
“Oh ho - now doesn’t that feel bad? I know shit, okay? I know for a fact that even when you guys had your doubts, you still went with the whole thing. Right? Lemme guess? You took him in anyway? You-”
Steve took a few dangerous steps forward, “This isn’t about us!”
“Oh it is just as much about you as it is about me,” Deadpool replied as easily as if Captain America were but a mere bystander and not the hero that he was.
Steve clenched his jaw.
“I might be an ally for now, but I’m an - pardon the title drop - Unapologetic Ally. I’m not here to sugarcoat a single fucking thing to you guys,” Deadpool pointed between them.
Peter was shocked, wasn’t Deadpool supposed to be the one questioned? The one that was being put in his place? How in the hell did the man take control of the conversation so easily?
Deadpool tilted his head, looking satisfied.
The Mercenary casually strode across his small ‘room’ grabbed his own chair, and plopped himself in it, tucking his hands behind his head and crossing his boots.
“... shouldn’t have given him a chair,” Peter heard Tony mutter.
“So. Now that we got it clear that all of us fucked up - ‘cept you baby-boy -” Deadpool started, “- maybe we can get this conversation started.”
The others exchanged looks, Steve didn’t look happy, but nodded to Tony, turning back to Deadpool, relenting.
“Good. Now,” Deadpool said evenly and coolly, “Ask away. Anything. Go ahead. Shoot.”