I'll be there 

where are you 

He pulls his shoes on and grabs the bag he keeps the spidersuit in. 

"Family thing. I need to go, I'm sorry —" 

He manages to share his location (thanks, Starkphone!) immediately before he is thrown through a wall by a robotic tentacle.

"It's cool, I get it, you're busy." Lev grabs his bag.

"Bye see you Monday —" and he's out the door — he takes the stairs four at a time, runs down the street and into an office building and swings out the window of the other side of the building as Spiderman — it'll take him a couple of minutes to get there even going as fast as he can but —

Lev walks home with his fingernails digging into his palms. 

He tells his parents he has a lot of homework. He works all night. He doesn't eat.

There is an enormous, vaguely octopus-shaped robot crashing occasionally into buildings like it’s had one too many drinks.

There’s also a conspicuous hole in a wall where Deadpool is lying, limbs all twisted at unnatural angles, looking mournfully at his shattered phone screen.

He could try webbing its limbs together, that works sometimes — 

— a shield slams into where the octopus's head would be if it were an actual octopus. 

“Love you, Cap!” Deadpool calls from his pile of bricks. He sounds a little wobbly.

The octopus-thing turns, now dented, and makes for its assailant, significantly more coordinated now that it has a target in mind.

Can't be coordinated if its limbs are tied together, right? 

Slam. Slam. Slam. 

...wow, this is the fastest he’s ever seen two superheroes cripple a giant robot. Big change from religious angst.

The robot tips over and crashes into the street in short order.

Once the robot's down he slams his shield into it a couple more times and leaves Spiderman to make sure it stays that way. 

Deadpool isn't under the wall, is he? 

Not mostly!

“Heeey, Cap. I’m gonna need a little help making all my body parts go the right direction.”

He clears the pieces of wall on top of him first, then gets to work setting Deadpool's shoulders. 

(He glances over his own shoulder once the wall is clear. The robot is very thoroughly tied up, and Spiderman seems to have gotten a bottle of Gatorade from somewhere and is dousing the circuits in it.) 

This is the best part of his job.

He doesn’t bother being quiet about it. Luckily, most people would make a lot of noise having their shoulders popped back into the sockets, so he probably won't offend any pedestrians.

Other shoulder. He can't make a cast but it's Deadpool, he doesn't need to; he pulls Deadpool out of the hole and arranges his limbs so when the bones regenerate they'll regenerate right. 

Wow. He thinks he needs a cigarette.

“My hero.”

"'S my job. Do you need anything?" 

“Hold on, just let me savor this moment—”

oh my god pull off my mask and fucking kiss me you ridiculously considerate triangle-shaped throwback why are you so hot i hate you with all my heart

“Nah, I’m good.”

He nods and stands up and starts with cleanup, prioritizing buildings that looked like they would've had people in them at night, until the assorted responder teams arrive. 

It’s not that long before he can pick himself up and dust off the remaining rubble.

For a weird antihero he’s not bad at crowd control. He helps herd the remaining civilians, until he hears sirens, which is usually his cue to start walking literally anywhere else.