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Hilly's neck was still blue a week after Fucker's death and Spiderman had disappeared. She was too nervous to get out to patrol and didn't even know what had happened to the web-shooters – they were just gone from her bedroom.
Also, she was kind of scared of running into Deadpool. He had saved her life and all but things were getting a little bit weird between them when she had left his apartment and she didn't want to look into it. Especially since someone else was already harassing Spiderman.
It was on the news that morning too: a big “meet me at the usual place?” written in flames in the sky.
Hilly really wondered why everyone was trying so much to get into Spidey's pants. Was it the spandex? It couldn't be Peter's sass, she knew that for sure…
Her twin kicked her under the table, making her jump and she sent him a dirty look as he was gesturing to the stairs. She knew what he wanted – they had a weird telepathic thing going on and could basically hold normal conversations with just their eyes – but she still frowned at him and shrugged.
I don't fucking care about what you want, was what it meant.
Come on! he insisted, but she looked down at her breakfast, and that was enough to make him stop bothering her.
Until she got into her bedroom at least.
“You need to meet him,” announced Peter, closing the door behind him.
“I don't see why I should do that.”
“Cause he won't stop trying to talk to you until you do.”
“Good thing Spidey is gone for real and he won't ever see me again then.”
Peter frowned but she ignored him, grabbing her mascara and going to her mirror instead.
“What do you mean, gone for real?”
“I mean that you won't do it anymore, and except for useless superpowers and a red spandex costume, I have nothing,” she said, putting mascara on her left eye. “I don't have a death wish so thank you very much but I'm not doing this again.”
“Yeah about that...”
She stopped applying the mascara and met his eyes through the mirror.
“What? What did you do?”
Instead of replying he took the web-shooters out of his pocket and put them down on her desk.
“They're full. You shouldn't… find yourself in the same situation as you did. And you were right about me, I should have given you webbing, that's the least I can do. I'm sorry.”
“...Thanks,” she said after two minutes of incredulity. “I really didn't expect it.”
“I know, my bad.”
That made her smile and she turned back to her eyelashes to apply mascara on her right eye.
“But you really need to talk to Johnny.”
“To tell him what, exactly? 'Hey dude, thanks for the constant flirting but you're mistaking me for my twin brother cause I took his place as the friendly spider superhero'? Don't be ridiculous, I can't go talk to him. I couldn't even know what to say cause half of the time he says things I don't even understand. I swear, even Deadpool is less annoying.”
Peter snorted at that.
“You have weird standards for annoying, in that case.”
“Hey, at least Deadpool is easy to understand! He touches my ass, I slap him, he shoots bad guys… it's easy. Johnny Storm keeps on staring like I'm supposed to read in his mind what he wants.”
“It's cause you don't know him. Please, go see him tonight, I'll like… write down what I want you to tell him. It'll be easy.”
“I don't even know what is 'the usual place'.”
“The Statue of Liberty. Please Hilly, do this for me!” he pleaded, coming behind her with a big pout on the lips before grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking her slowly. “Pleaseeeee! It's important, okay?”
Hilly sighed and turned around to face him.
“Alright, I'll do it but just because I think that your little crush on him is pathetic, and I want you to stop harassing me.”
Peter blushed and took a step back.
“I don't have a crush on him!” he shrieked, voice going high.
“Right,” she smirked, patting his cheek. “Just don't forget to write down my speech because I won't go if I don't know what I'm supposed to say.”
Her twin nodded eagerly, still red but looking relieved and happier that she had seen him these past six months.
***
“This is so fucking stupid,” muttered Hilly, squinting in hope that she'd be able to see the Statue of Liberty despite the darkness surrounding her and the fog. “How am I supposed to cross the fucking water? I can't fucking fly!”
No one replied, thankfully – that would have been embarrassing – and she stood there for another minute, wondering what was wrong with her brother and why the hell the universe was so keen on making her life miserable and ridiculous.
“I really don't deserve it,” she finally announced to the two birds flying near her. “I can't believe I let Peter talk me into this.”
“Hey, are you talking to yourself?” called someone behind her.
Not anyone.
Johnny Storm.
Slowly turning around, Hilly managed to fake a smile, even if he probably couldn't see it considering that she was masked and it was very dark.
“I was actually talking to the birds,” she said and he laughed, walking to her.
Looking at him like that, she had to admit that he was really hot and handsome. She still didn't like him though – maybe it was because he had called her a thief and a cheap Spiderman doppelganger.
But she had punched him in the crotch so maybe she could forgive him.
“You saw my message!” he smiled once he was in front of her.
“It was hard to miss.”
“It still took you a week to come.”
“I was busy.”
He snorted and moved so he was standing next to her, an arm wrapped around her shoulders.
“So, what's up and why did you disappear once again?”
“I was gone for a week, you can't have missed me.”
He put one hand over his heart, looking fakely affected and hurt.
“How dare you! You're my bro, of course I missed you! And I saw the news, I was worried about you, were you hurt?”
She thought about her blue neck and nightmares and shook her head.
“Nah, I'm good. I just didn't feel like superheroing.”
His smile grew wider.
“So, what did you want?” – the quicker she knew and told him what Peter had written, the quicker she could go home and rest.
“To hang out!”
Hilly blinked, surprised and wondering if it was a joke, but he seemed genuine, and it was probably worse. The guy was preventing her from spending the night in her bed watching Parks & Rec just because he wanted to hang out?
“Okay… Alright. But like, don't you have other friends? To party and hang out with?”
“You know I do, but you always come first.”
She nodded, feeling oddly embarrassed. Peter had told her what she was supposed to say but really, she'd rather spend all night 'hanging out' with him now that he had said that. Poor guy, Peter was going to break his heart.
“About that...” she started, taking a step to the right so he didn't have his arm around her anymore.
Johnny frowned – shit, she felt bad for him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, and immediately added without letting her answer: “Look, I know you told me to back off the other day, and then you kissed me, so I get that you're confused and the whole secret identity thing is messing with your head even more, but you know you can tell me if something is bothering you, right?”
Did he just say kiss?
Did he just say that after telling him to back off – she remembered that – Spidey had kissed him – she didn't remember that at all –?
Holy crap.
Fucker had bruised her pretty badly but not to the point that she wouldn't remember kissing Johnny freaking Storm!
“Uh...” was the only thing she could tell him in reply.
“Really Spidey,” he said, crossing the space separating them, his eyes lost in hers as he put a comforting and warm hand on her shoulder.
Shit.
He was in love with Spidey, she could see it in his eyes.
And Spidey had kissed him.
And Peter had this huge crush on him.
And Peter used to be Spidey.
So if she was getting this right, Peter had put the Spidey suit on some time in the past month, kissed The Human Torch and then forced her to go tell him that Spidey didn't want to be his friend anymore.
Waoh, her brother was such a dick sometimes.
“Are you okay?” asked Johnny in a breath, slowly leaning toward her.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He was going to kiss her, she could tell by the way his hand had moved from her shoulder to her nape and he was staring at her mouth – which was impressive considering the mask.
She wondered for a second if he knew Peter's identity. Or if he had at least seen Peter's mouth when they had kissed. Did that mean that both Peter and Johnny were bi? They had both dated girls… maybe they were just experimenting or confused or whatever. Did that mean that they were a thing? Crap, did that mean that she was dating Johnny without even knowing it!?
Her thoughts short circuited when Johnny's lips tenderly kissed hers.
It was just a peck, with the whole mask between their mouth thing and all, but even through the spandex she could feel his warmth and worst of all, she could feel his furious heartbeat when he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her body flushed against his.
Man, that was not how she had imagined her night going.
Johnny smiled down at her, looking happy, and Hilly wondered if letting him hold her while he thought that she was her brother made her a bad person. All she ever wanted was to make people happy – especially Peter – but it never seemed to go her way.
“So… wanna hang out now? Or you're still feeling bad?”
“Honestly, I think I'm gonna go home. I don't feel so good and just didn't want you to… you know… to be like… worried.”
She took a step back, and his smile vanished.
“But don't worry!” she immediately added, “I'll see you soon… in patrol or next time we need to punch aliens out of New York… all that.”
The amused tiny smile he sent her was enough to reassure her that he wasn't mad or hurt – she couldn't break up with him when she wasn't even the Spidey he was dating damn it, the guy deserved better, even if she didn't like him that much.
“Alright, see you then.”
She let him kiss her on the cheek before she swung away with her new filled web-shooters, feeling like the worst person in NYC.
Peter was so dead.
***
“You fucking asshole!” she screamed, entering Peter's bedroom using the window, “You're the worst, I can't believe you wanted me to do that to The Torch! I don't like him but I still have a heart, unlike you.”
Peter looked up from his homework and spun his chair around to face her, looking unimpressed.
“What?”
“You guys are dating and you wanted me to break up with him!”
He paled, then his cheeks became redder than Deadpool's costume and finally, after a second of staring at Hilly with his mouth open, he started stuttering unintelligible words.
“Shush!” she said and he closed his mouth as quickly as he had opened it. “Why didn't you tell me?”
Looking down at his lap, Peter shrugged.
“I… don't really know. I don't even know why I kissed him.”
“Cause you're hot for him, pun intended, stop lying to yourself. Now the million dollar question: why do you want to break up with him, and why don't you do it yourself?”
Once again he shrugged, looking pathetic in his blue pajama, his face still pale and his cheeks still very red.
Sighing, Hilly closed the window behind her, walked to Peter to grab him by the wrist and push him up. She lead him to his bed and let them both fall on it, their legs dangling from the side and the top of the head brushing against the wall.
“Tell me what is going on,” she demanded, voice soft, and he nodded.
“I love Gwen you know. I love her, but I couldn't protect her and now she's gone, but I still love her. And Johnny… he's my friend… Spidey's friend, and even if he's stupid I...”
“You like him,” she finished for him and, going as red as a beet – his blushing skills were impressive – Peter nodded.
“What should I do?”
“Not send me do it for you. That's very uncool and mean.”
“I know but I panicked.”
“Yeah, I can tell now. But if it makes you feel better he said that he understands you're confused.”
Peter looked up at her, eyes shining.
“Really?” he asked, sounding almost hopeful.
“Yeah. And then he kissed me, hugged me and asked me if I wanted to hang out.”
“What!?”
“That's what you get for sending me! You should thank me for not slapping him!”
“I'm… I'm speechless. What did you do?”
“Nothing, I said I had to go home and left. He's your boyfriend, not mine.”
And without waiting for an answer, Hilly jumped from the bed to his door, sending him a big smile.
“Now if you'll excuse me, I have Parks & Rec to watch!”
“Hilly wait–!!”
She ignored his call and went to her bedroom as fast as possible, locking the door behind her.
***
Dodging bullets looked easy – and in fact it was, one of the only useful thing her powers did – but dodging bullets while saving a family from an imminent death was very hard.
And that's how Hilly got shot for the first time.
Apparently the family she was trying to save were filthy rich and that always attracted all kinds of bad people – in her case, bad people meant some mafioso who walked into the family's penthouse and shot at everything before trying to throw the whole family out of the window.
When she had seen a guy dandling from a very high window, screaming, while bullets were fired from inside the apartment, Hilly hadn't hesitated – she had found a dark corner, taken her clothes off and put the Spidey mask on before swinging to the guy's rescue.
She should have known that things would go south. It always did.
So there she was, one hand around the guy's wrist – and if he didn't stop screaming she was going to throw him out herself, damn it –, catching the wife and the young adult son with webs as they were thrown out another window. The bad guys behind her were supposed to be disarmed – she wasn't stupid – but they still could kick her out the window so really, she needed to find a solution to her problems and quickly.
“Stop screaming you're giving me a headache!” she told the guy but he didn't hear her over the sound of his own voice and the wind.
Why was there so much wind, damn it?
At least the wife and son, dangling from a threat of wed three meters down were mostly quiet. Just sobbing and calling Jesus to the rescue.
“Kill this bitch!” screamed a baddie behind her and she gritted her teeth, her right arm aching from holding two people. The guy she was trying to save was still screaming and his nails were biting into her left forearm but she ignored him in favor of sending a look over her shoulder at the inside of the apartment.
One big bald man in a black suit – how fucking cliché was that? – pushed his pants up his calf and took a gun out of a holster he had there.
“Fuck!” immediately exclaimed Hilly.
How come she hadn’t seen that one coming? She had seen tons of movies damn it!
“Yeah,” smiled the bald man, aiming for her head, “bye bye Spiderman.”
She did not wait for him to finish his sentence. Leaping out of the window, she let the screaming guy go and hoped for everyone that she'd have time to save them all as she heard a gunshot.
It felt like time had slowed down.
Falling head first from the fiftieth-something floor of a skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan was not the kind of thing she ever thought she'd experience at the prime age of eighteen but her life was full of surprises and, with half of her body still in the apartment while a screaming guy was falling to his death as she held his wife and son, Hilly almost felt like laughing.
Something touched her from behind, with so much force that she literally got thrown out of the window, immediately followed by a burning sensation in her shoulder that took her breath and for a second, she almost blacked out. Adrenaline and survival instinct kicked in before she could make an ass of herself by passing out while free-falling and, with great effort, she managed to shoot a web at the guy – he had stopped screaming, which was a good thing.
The problem now was that both her web-shooters were occupied and they were still falling.
Hilly tried to move her right arm but that made her gasp in pain and black dots flashed before her eyes so she decided to once again sacrifice the guy. It took a lot of effort but she managed to grab the web threat holding him, cut it and use it to pull the guy up, right in her arms.
He started screaming again when their body collided, his arms grabbing her around the waist and squeezing tight enough to make her moan in pain but she focused on shooting a web to the building, stopping their fall so suddenly that she felt her teeth slam together and her stomach jump right from his usual place to her throat when they brutally collided with the building.
Fortunately, the windows didn't break.
“Oh god!” was sobbing the guy against her belly. “Oh god! Are we dead!? We are dead right! I have blood on my hands so I must be dead!”
“I'm pretty sure death doesn't hurt so much,” she muttered, looking down at the wife and son to check if they were still alive – judging from the vomit, they still were. “Okay, we need to get down, so I'm gonna swing and I need you to hold me tight, stop crying and please, don't wet your pants cause I swear if you do I'm dropping you or sending you back in your apartment.”
The guy whined but nodded – like she needed his approval.
Slowly, she put her feet flat on the window, flexed her legs then, after a deep breath that made her grimace because her whole body felt like it was on fire, she pushed away and shot a new web, lower, making sure that the wife and son weren't going to die.
It took her a minute to get them to the ground and once it was done, a single jump leading to a fall barely broken by a police car that happened to be there was enough to get her and the still screaming guy down.
The guy was quick to jump away from her and run to the rest of his family, the three of them hugging and sobbing, and Hilly paid them no mind, her breath short and ragged, her chest burning and her head spinning as she laid there on the top of a cop car. There was something wrong and it took her ten seconds to realize that she had been shot.
“Need some help comrade?” asked someone somewhere to her right but she didn't move.
“How come you always appear whenever I get my ass more or less kicked?” she asked, panting, as Deadpool's mask entered her line of vision.
“It's how our team works. You get your ass kicked and I sweep in to save you, baby boy!”
“Don't call me that,” she replied, trying to get up but a burst of pain made her scream and fall back on the car.
“Woah, easy there!” immediately reacted Deadpool, putting his hands on her shoulders – and she hissed in pain when he touched her right one. “You got shot. You shouldn't move.”
“I shouldn't stay here.”
“Is it your first time?”
“Being annoyed? No.”
“Having bullets going through you. Cause lemme tell you, it happens to me on a regular basis and trust me, that hurts like a bitch every time, even when you're used to it. Also, I know how to take care of that kind of wound, so why don't you and I have another pajama party at my place? But this time, we'll try to keep you awake, alright?”
“Fuck no!”
She got up, this time prepared for the sharp pain and gritting her teeth to bit back a scream. Her costume was sticky where her blood had run down and she was sweating way too much for it to be normal but she still slid down the car, her legs giving out under her as soon as she touched the ground.
Deadpool's arms were around her a second later.
“Come on,” he said, voice weirdly soft as he murmured right against her ear, “I know you wanna act all though to impress me, and trust me I am, but you don't have to. And I like to hold you in my arms as we leave the battlefield, sunset in our back and all that shit. Really, it's very romantic. I bet you dig that too.”
“Please shut up,” she murmured, still panting and not able to hold herself straight.
With each passing seconds she felt worse and she knew for a fact that if she wasn't at least sitting down in a minute, she was really going to pass out.
“You win okay, you can take me to your shit hole if you want, but I swear if you do anything like trying to get my mask or costume off, I'm strangling you.”
“Oki doki!” he sing-sang, sounding way too cheerful, before he swept her off her feet and started to scamper away.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, trying to breath through the pain and hoping that she wasn't making a mistake.
***
“Stop it, you cut too much!”
“Oh, don't be like that baby boy! I need to see the wound if I want to fix it and since mister doesn't want to take his clothes off...”
“You're not seeing me out of this costume, ever. Now, do your thing or I'm leaving.”
“Ugh, you can be really bossy when you want, you know that?” he asked, playfully raising his eyebrows under his mask, “That's actually really hot.”
“I'm seriously gonna leave and if I bleed out in some dark alley and die, you'll have that on your conscience for the rest of your life.”
“That'd be bad… I don't think I can grope a ghost so please, don't do this.”
“Stop talking then.”
He nodded but his shit-eating grin was enough to annoy her.
She didn't want him to see her hidden boobs so in order to 'fix her', she had told him that he could cut bigger holes where she had been shot and he had taken this very seriously – maybe a little too much.
“By the way, I didn't only give you that bottle of whiskey so we can pretend to be cowboys. It's also because I don't have anything against the pain and it seems to work in movies.”
“I fucking hate you, you know that?” she sighed.
“I know honey, you're my fav too! Now take a sip!”
She shook her head. Getting drunk right now would be the worst thing she could do – she tended to shed clothes when she was intoxicated and that was not something she'd risk with Deadpool.
“Alright,” he shrugged when it became clear that she didn't want his shitty whiskey, “as you like it baby boy.”
“Stop it with the pet nam– HOLY SHIT!” she screamed when he poured the whiskey right on her wound.
“Shhh, it's okay,” he immediately said, voice strangely soothing, “it's necessary so it doesn't get infected. You're lucky the bullet went right through you and didn't touch anything. I just need to stitch here, it's gonna hurt a lot more for your hip.”
“My what?” she asked, panting and confused because of the pain.
“Your right hip. You got shot there too.”
Looking down, she realized that he was right but her burning shoulder was the only thing she could feel at the moment.
She closed her eyes when he took a needle, ready to stitch her, and she calmly obeyed him when, once he was finished with her shoulder, he told her to lay on her stomach and pushed her costume up so he could see her hip.
The bullet was still in there he told her and she tried her best not to scream when he had to get it out before pouring whiskey on that wound too and stitching it.
“So, still don't want to get smashed?” he asked as he was putting the needle away.
She was covered in sweat and panting like she had just ran a sprint and he probably could see the pain clearly through her mask but she still shook her head and flipped over so she was laying on her left side.
“Your couch smells better than your carpet,” she commented. “I think I'm gonna take a quick nap, if that's okay.”
“Yeah of course, it's always a pleasure to creepily stare at you while you're sleeping!”
Too tired to reply, Hilly simply closed her eyes. He had spent fifteen minutes trying to get a bullet out of her body, she could probably trust him not to take a peek under her mask while she was resting.
And even if she couldn't, she was asleep only a second after closing her eyes, missing the slight brush of gloved fingers over her masked cheek and chin.
***
Hilly unexpectedly woke up slowly, as if it was a regular Sunday morning where she could laze around all day and not a Thursday afternoon where she was supposed to be in school pretending to be a regular teenager. She was still on Deadpool's couch and her mask hadn't move so she took a second to relax, still too sleepy to fully be aware of the fact that her whole body was sore and her bullet wounds were still burning.
Groaning, she slowly rose into a sitting position, breathing slowly through her nose, before putting her feet on the floor and getting up.
“Are you awake, lazy bun?!” called Deadpool from an adjacent room.
It took her way too long but she managed to reach that room – a kitchen that smelled like Mexican food, turmeric and pancakes.
It mostly smelled like pancakes though, which didn't surprise Hilly at all since Deadpool was actually cooking pancakes while wearing a “kiss the cook” pink apron and a chef's hat.
“What are you doing?” she asked, voice hoarse from sleep, before letting herself fall on one of the chair around the tiny table that occupied a corner.
He took a second to reply, seeming to examine her but she couldn't be sure because of his mask.
“I'm making breakfast, obviously. Even if rich white people call it brunch when shitty people like us eat breakfast at two in the afternoon.”
Hilly groaned and let her head fall on the table.
“Shit, I thought it was only eleven, maybe twelve…”
“Is your dragon waiting for you?”
She snorted.
The dragon was Peter – his real 'baby boy', how ironic.
“Worse. School.”
“Waoh, holy shit! Are you a jail bait?!”
She didn't look up from the table, her eyes half closed.
“I turned eighteen like, three months ago.”
“Okay… good. But that means that, like, you go to high school and all?”
There was a sound, like someone flipping a pancake, and she grunted her affirmation.
“Dude, that's like so metal and badass! I bet you're one of those popular kids!”
“I used to,” she replied.
A vast majority of people had stopped liking her after she had broken up with Flash – and apparently broken his heart – but she tried to convince herself that she didn't care at all.
“You're fucking Spiderman, how can people not like you?”
Snorting, she thought of the real Spidey, with his hipster glasses that he wore even if he didn't need them, his big backpack and his threadbare converse – there was nothing glamorous about him yet she still loved him so much that she'd get shot everyday for him.
“I guess people don't really see past the looks.”
“Pfff, are you trying to tell me that you're ugly? Cause I don't believe it. And even if it was true, which I'm sure it's not, with an ass like that, who cares?”
She smiled ruefully.
“Nobody thinks that a great ass is enough, but thanks.”
For a second every noise stopped and it crossed Hilly's mind that maybe Deadpool wanted to kill her and had waited till breakfast because murder made him hungry – after all, everyone had told her that Deadpool was a psycho but she still hadn't seen any sign that he was that crazy. He was just kinda weird sometimes.
Two plates were put down on the table, one right next to her face, and it smelled so good she managed to sit up straight, all thoughts about murder gone.
“Damn, that looks delicious.”
“I know,” he smiled, sitting down in front of her and putting down two cups of coffee.
Ugh, she hated black coffee.
“So...” he started, staring at her, “we're gonna eat.”
“I guess,” she replied, most of her attention turned to the pancakes.
“And we're both wearing masks.”
“Yeah, that's a problem.”
“But we're both mostly adults so we can work it out without judging the other.”
“I'm not showing you my face,” she immediately replied, focusing on him now.
“I know, and I'm not showing you mine.”
He took a deep breath and Hilly watched with incredulity and a little bit of fear as he slowly grabbed the bottom of his mask and pushed it up until his mouth and nose were free.
She couldn't see his face – just his chin, his strong jaw, his lips and his nostrils, but those were enough to leave her gaping at him, speechless. He had big scars running all over the lower part of his face and it looked like it hurt. She wondered what had happened to him, if it was an accident or something that someone had done to him – but who could do this?
His lips thinned, his jaw tightened, making a muscle stand out – shit, that was kinda hot –, and she realized that maybe her silent staring wasn't really the kind of reaction that helped him not feel bad.
“Don't make fun of me, I often hear that I look like a girl,” she said, hoping that it would help dissipate the sudden heavy tension floating around them.
It was way harder than she thought it would be, but if he had done it then so could she and, after swallowing down the lump of anxiety in her stomach, she took her mask and pushed it up her nose too.
“You do look like a girl,” he said as soon as her mouth was uncovered.
She smirked and grabbed a fork and the closest plate of pancakes instead of replying.
“Do you have any milk and sugar, by the way? I hate black coffee,” she asked between two bites when he pushed a cup to her.
“What?! Ewww, how can you? Coffee has to be black!”
“Fuck no, it's disgusting and makes me sick.”
“That's cause you're not a real man yet.”
She snorted very loudly at that.
“You're probably right.”
They took their time eating, Hilly happily letting Deadpool talk the whole time. It was amazing how he could hold a whole conversation by himself, never running out of topics or arguments to debate with himself. It made her smile and forget for some time about her painful shoulder and hip.
Unfortunately, the time to go back to real life arrived at some point as both of them stood in front of Deadpool's front door, staring at each other. Hilly had to leave and go home, take a shower because she smelled really bad and was disgusting, find an excuse to explain why she had skipped a whole day at school and finally, she had to find a way to pretend that she did not have two bullet wounds – throwing herself at a car wasn't an option this time and Aunt May would ask her what had happened if she saw that she was hurt.
“So, you're going to school now?”
“I don't think so. I need a shower.”
“Yeah, you smell even worse than me,” he replied, his nose scrunching up. That was oddly adorable for someone as big and scary as him.
She playfully punched him in the shoulder.
“You're an asshole, but thanks for the breakfast.”
“No prob Spidey.”
They exchanged a smile before he opened the door to her.
“See you later baby boy! And don't get killed!” he called when she started walking down the hallway.
Turning around, she sent him a big smile.
“Bye bye Deadpool man,” she said before grabbing her mask and pulling it back down so it was covering her whole face.
She pretended to not hear his cackling once he shut his door close.
That man was crazy.
***
Hilly was napping, using Peter's legs as a pillow as he read a book, when he suddenly sighed, let the book fall on the bed next to him and grabbed one of her hand.
“Please, tell me again that you are okay.”
“I'm okay,” she said, not opening her eyes.
“You got shot.”
“I know.”
“You could have died.”
“I know.”
“I...”
“You don't have to say anything or feel responsible. It's the guy who shot me's fault, not yours. Now stop worrying for me and let me sleep, I'm tired.”
“But Hilly–”
“I'm okay I said,” she interrupted, finally looking up at him. “Besides it seems that every time I need help, my guardian angel is here.”
“I'm really not feeling comfortable with that,” frowned Peter.
“I know but at least he knows how to take care of bullet wounds. Now let me nap so maybe tomorrow I'll be in good enough shape to model for you.”
“You know you don't have to do this.”
“Please, your job was to take selfies, and now that I'm your model, trust me I'm gonna do it! I can't wait to take a lot of silly poses.”
“I won't sell silly poses to the Bugle.”
“Why not? They already hate Spidey.”
He sent her a deadly glare.
“Sleep and stop saying things like that. Only Jameson doesn't like Spidey, everybody else is a fan.”
“Even though Spidey has been shitty recently?”
Peter looked ready to fight her.
“Stop insulting my sister and her superhero skills!”
***
“I don't understand,” said Hilly, heart beating wildly.
Something feeling a lot like anxiety was bubbling in her chest and she wondered if crying in front of her French teacher would help or just make her look pathetic.
“I tried to help your case,” said Mister Liron, “but as I said your grades have been constantly dropping, you are unfocused in classes – when you actually attend classes – and you never even turned in your assignment last week.”
“What? No I did! I clearly remember doing it and giving it to you.”
“Yes, but I gave it back because I judged it too botched.”
She paled, remembering now.
“I… I'm so sorry, I forgot I… I can give it tomorrow if you want I...”
Her teacher stopped her with a gesture of the hand and got up from his desk, meeting her gaze with serious eyes.
“Look, I know you've been through a lot for the past year, and it must have been rough for you and your brother, but you shouldn't neglect school like that.”
“I'm doing my best...” she murmured, blinking back tears as she looked down.
She was completely screwed. There was no way she could turn this situation around, it was too late. She was never getting into college, Aunt May and Peter were going to be so disappointed…
“It's not too late,” said Mr. Liron, as if he was reading her mind. “French is the only class you're not failing, in fact, if you email me your assignment, and the real one this time not the first draft, this week-end, you still have a chance of keeping your A+. You still want to be a French major, right?”
She nodded.
“Good,” smiled the teacher. “So email me the assignment, I won't give you all the points because you're late but it's still better than nothing. If you have a perfect score, there shouldn't be a problem.”
“But what about a scholarship? If I'm really failing everything else I'm...”
She was never going to have this scholarship. And she sure as hell didn't have the money to pay for college.
Mr. Liron shrugged, looking sad for her.
“I can't help you with that. Maybe there is still a chance, a very, very small chance but you never know until you get the final response. You should focus on your grades for now, and on nothing else.”
A tear fell from her right eye and she quickly wiped it, nodding to her teacher and thanking him before almost running out of the classroom.
It was Friday afternoon and the school was completely empty, fortunately for her. That way, no one saw or heard her sob in the girls bathroom.
***
Johnny Storm was watching her, his legs on fire so he could float in the air and his arms crossed on his chest. Hilly still felt like crying, three weeks after the discussion with her teacher, and punching doombots helped her feel better so she ignored him and punched harder, until her knuckles were hurting and there was nothing left to attack.
“Are you okay?” asked The Human Torch – gosh, she knew that he just couldn't leave her alone.
“Super fine,” she replied, her back to him, “No need for you to worry and come try to make me feel better, I'm already super good. You can go back to your teammates, I think I saw your sister not far from here.”
A warm hand gently grabbed her by the shoulder – thankfully the left, the other one was still a little bit sensitive – and she turned around as soon as she felt it, ready to punch Johnny fucking Storm in the face.
His concerned blue eyes stopped her.
“Look, I don't know what is going on and I know you don't want to talk about it, but at least accept my help. I'm very worried about you – the whole team is, actually. I even talked to your photographer friend, but apparently he doesn't know what is wrong with you either.”
“My photographer friend?” she asked, voice aggressive enough to make him take a step back.
“Yes… this Peter Parker guy who always takes pictures of you.”
She really didn't want to hear about her brother.
“He's not my friend,” was what she told him.
“Oh.”
Johnny looked disappointed and still worried – which wasn't a good look on him.
“Just… please, let me be here for you.”
She wanted to snap at him and tell him to go to Hell, that she didn't need anyone to deal with her problems, but something in his eyes – the genuine feelings there – took all her anger out of her and she did the only thing she couldn't do to anyone else: she threw herself into his arms, hid her face against his throat and started to sob.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and her whole body shaking, she let herself be comforted by Johnny Storm, a guy she barely knew but might be dating. A guy she didn't even like that much. A guy who had no idea why she was crying and clinging to him like that but was still willing to hug her close and murmur soothing words in her ear.
It was Uncle Ben's birthday that day, and since shitty days could only get shittier, she had received a letter telling her that she couldn't get a scholarship for college. There was no way she was telling Peter and Aunt May that, and except selling organs on the black market, she had no idea how she was going to pay.
“It's gonna be okay,” whispered Johnny to her ear, “no matter what it is, it's gonna be okay.”
She hoped that he was right.
***
There were pictures of Johnny and her hugging everywhere – all over the internet, on TV, in the newspaper and even on some screens in Time Square. Peter had tried to call her at least twenty times but she didn't feel like seeing him and the rooftop she had found was nice: not too high so it wasn't windy and cold, but not too low so she couldn't hear the constant traffic and people walking down the streets.
And Deadpool liked the place too apparently since he was sitting next to her, their feet dangling over the edge of the building.
For once with Deadpool, everything was silent and it helped Hilly relax a little.
“I'm feeling better now, you can talk if you want,” she finally said after a very long time.
“I'm not sure I know what to say.”
She turned her head to look at him, a small smirk on the side of the mouth.
“It'd be a first.”
“Yeah, you do that a lot.”
“What?”
He didn't reply, wrapping a big arm around her shoulders instead.
“So, since you were feeling down, how about comfort food: a shit ton of tacos. And by a shit ton I mean that I know this restaurant that let me order literally everything that they have in their kitchen. They almost ran out of business because of me one time.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, you'll like it! And if you don't, I'll eat everything all by myself, don't worry I'm used to it. Let's go now, brooding is really not good for my Chakras.”
Snorting, Hilly got up, feeling suddenly hungry.
“Alright, let's go. I know this good ice cream truck for dessert, they have crazy flavors like toothpaste and foie gras!”
“No shit!” he exclaimed, getting up too.
“Yeah shit, let's go!”
Without even thinking about it she grabbed him and shot a web to swing away, laughing at his woops of joy.
***
Deadpool was right, the restaurant's owner really let them order a shit ton of tacos and it was an excellent comfort food. After an ice cream (he had tried viagra while she had settled for good old fashioned turkey), they had gone their separate ways but not without Deadpool trying to get a feel of her ass first.
She felt weirdly good and light after all that. He was an excellent mood-maker, with always a funny joke or a crazy anecdote to tell. She could face Peter and Aunt May and the heavy atmosphere of the house now, she thought.
Unfortunately, she never made it home that night.
She felt an imminent danger coming – her spider-sense, as Peter called it – and just as she was looking over her shoulder, two small darts were fired at her and stuck to her arm. She blinked at them, understanding a second too late.
The electroshock got her to her knees but she fought to move, to get away, to do something.
She got tasered a second time and fell face first on the ground, every muscle of her body twitching in pain.
“Stand down Miss Parker, we don't want you any harm.”
If she could have moved, she would have snorted. Tasering people from behind was a very known pacific procedure, sure, and so much more effective than a simple wave and hello.
She heard someone approach and polished leather shoes entered her vision line when the person – a man – stopped next to her head before squatting down.
“Hi,” he smiled, teeth perfectly lined up and a little dimple appearing on his right cheek, “I'm Agent Derek Lawson, with SHIELD, and I'd like to recruit you.”
“Fuck you,” she managed to grit out.
“I don't think you understand,” he replied. “Too bad, I had hoped that we could do it the easy way but I guess I was wrong.”
He got up, took a step back and whistled.
Hilly got tasered another time, making her groan in pain before she passed out.