chimichamga

Shot in the Dark

“Uh, this might be a shot in the dark,” Deadpool said, “but are you into me or something?” He scuffed his foot along the pavement.

“Uh,” said Spiderman. There was a pause, and then Spiderman gestured to the chocolates scattered across the ground and the dented and dirtied heart-shaped box near it. “Well, yes.”

Deadpool shook his head. “Are you trying to trick me or something? Because it’s not working. I don’t understand what kind of prank this is.”

Spiderman cocked his head to the side. “It’s not, a joke…You are literally clasping, in your hand, a bouquet I presented to you less than five minutes ago while I stated, in my most nicest and sexiest of voices, that I’d like to go on a date with you.”

Deadpool looked down at the bouquet of withered and wilting flowers he was systematically crushing in his fists. He gulped at their ruined state and then reflexively let go of them. They both watched as the torn stems and crumpled petals dropped to the dirty asphalt.

“Aaand now you’re not,” Spiderman said.

“You were wooing me?” Deadpool asked, failing to comprehend that concept. “Woo-ing?”

“Well, yes,” Spiderman said. “I would have thought the flowers and chocolate would have been a tip-off. I don’t know much about romance, or anything, but I do know a fair share of women who are a little too excited to give me anything they think I could possibly need to know in the romantic department. They assured me that chocolate and flowers were the correct, classic way to show one’s affection. And, you know, I wanted to ask you on a date, so chocolate and flowers it was.”

Deadpool looked down at the destroyed flowers and the scattered chocolates. “Oh.”

“If your answer is going to be no,” said Spider-Man, “you can just say it. I can take rejection. I’m often rejected. It’s like a thing with me. But could you please make it quick? Like ripping off a Band-Aid. I want the pain over with quickly. I don’t really like pain. The Sinister Six might disagree with me there. Or at least they’re trying to get me used to pain. But honestly, no. So, no? No on the date? Okay, I guess, bye—”

“Stop,” Deadpool demanded as Spiderman turned to walk away. “Stop talking. You talk too much. Let me think.”

I talk too much? Honestly? Coming from you? Enchilada calling the fajita spicy.”

“Shhh,” said Deadpool. He knelt to pick up the flowers, wrapped in crumpled cellophane. “Let me think,” Deadpool growled.

“Okay. Think for as long as you like. Think lots of things. I’ll just be over here trying to stuff my heart back into my chest.”

“Do you know you talk a lot?”

“Do you know that you talk a lot? I talk a lot, you talk a lot, we all talk a lot, Deadpool. I like that we talk a lot.”

“You like when I talk?”

“That’s not what I said, but yes. I love when you talk. That’s like 95% of your personality, and I really like your personality.”

“So this isn’t a prank,” Deadpool asked.

“No,” Spider-Man said emphatically. “I would never do that. Seriously, what kind of girl do you take me for? I would never ask anyone out on a date as a prank. But I really do like you. You always make me laugh. And you compliment my butt a lot. It’s enough to make a guy vain. So… date?”

Deadpool closed his eyes. “Wow you are really, really, really pushy aren’t you?”

“Well wouldn’t you be? If someone you really liked was just holding your heart in their hands? Holding the flowers you bought with your minimum wage money, crushed in their hands? Stepping on the fancy-ass chocolate you bought them with their…feet? Wouldn’t you too be nervous, O’, Katana-wielding mercenary? Wouldn’t you too want to possibly jump off a roof and then hide away in a cave in Guam and never come out again? Wouldn’t you want to disappear straight off the face of the planet just in case you embarrassed yourself so much you could never be seen in the superhero Community ever again? Wouldn’t you to want to just—”

“Okay! Yes! I will date you. I will date you. I will take you out for chimichamgas right now if you will just stop word- vomiting. That is my job. It is my job to word vomit. Jesus. Stop getting all up in my turf.”

There was a moment of silence as Spiderman paused. Deadpool waited for Spiderman to move. But he didn’t move, he just stood there in a state of shock. “Oh God did I break you?” Deadpool asked, bringing his hands to his mouth dramatically. “Are you okay? Do you need coffee? Do you need quesadillas? Do you need pepper spray in the mouth? Do you need pepper spray in your eyes? Do you need to watch all the episodes of Golden Girls in a single sitting? Do you need to watch Gilmore Girls, the obviously lesser TV show that has two G’s in the title? Do you need, like, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?” Deadpool wiggled his eyebrows.

Spiderman let out a long drawn-out sigh. And then Deadpool’s meaning must have hit because he lit up. “So is that a yes? We are definitely going out? Please, oh God, I would love Mexican food, I would love coffee, I would even accept pepper spray in my face, I’m so excited. When do you want to go? Do you want to go now?

“Hold up a minute,” Deadpool said. “Aren’t you rushing into this little bit? You’re going really fast, bug boy. Maybe take a deep breath and slow down.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to reach out to you for, like, three months now. I’m a little impatient, you are correct.”

Deadpool frowned. “Three months?”

“Yes!” Spiderman exclaimed. “For three months I’ve been trying to woo you, but you just wouldn’t get it.

“What do you mean I wasn’t getting it?”

Spiderman shook his head. “This isn’t the first time I left you flowers. Or chocolates. I’ve even left you packets of Taco Bell verde sauce, and bullets bent into heart-shapes. You didn’t get it! I literally stuck under your door a glitter-filled card with hearts on it. I asked you out. I signed my name! How did you not get what I was doing?”

“I exploded the card,” Deadpool explained.

“You what?”

“It was pushed under my door!” Deadpool defended. “I thought it might contain poison. Or be a bomb. Or be a letter from my senator. It had to go.”

“So you blew it up?” Spiderman asked in a monotone.

Deadpool nodded. “Duh. But now I get it. You know, everything’s starting to make a little more sense now.”

Spiderman face-palmed. “So, are we going out or what?”

Deadpool snapped to attention. “Yes sir! Off we go!

He grabbed hold of Spiderman’s hands and began pulling him down the road, off to whatever restaurant looked especially delicious. “You’re paying,” Spiderman said. “I bought all those chocolates. And Tiger Lilies aren’t cheap this time of year. Especially in New York.”

“Yes,” Deadpool said, still keeping a firm hand clasped in Spidey’s. “I will pay for din-din, and I will buy you chocolates and flowers. I will grow them myself and I will plant them in planters and put them all around your house. I will braid flowers into your hair, if you so wish. I will pour melted chocolate into small water balloons and attack you with them when you are not expecting them.”

Spiderman laughed delightedly. “That sounds wonderful.”


Written for the @deadpoolweekly prompt: Shot in the Dark. I’m really sad I missed last week’s prompt :(