Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 ...not to say you're born to lose.

The first time Peter became aware of the man he would later learn was called Deadpool, he'd been 14 years old. He'd only been Spider-Man for about two months and he was still adjusting, still finding his gravity and physics defying footing on the walls and rooftops of New York's buildings and skyscrapers. He'd still been adding little changes to his haphazardly thrown together –but hopefully not totally amateur – Spider-Man costume, still perfecting his webbing formula and still sneaking out of the house, hiding from May and feeling so guilty, but also so exhilarated about it all...

That first moment of awareness came early on a Tuesday evening. Peter was sitting on one end of the sofa in the lounge of the apartment he shared with May, who was sitting a comfortable distance away near the other end, neither of them were speaking as they focused on eating their respective plates of Bolognaise; one of May's more successful attempts at home cooking. They were absently watching a rerun of a sitcom while they ate, although Peter's mind was distracted; roughly 85% of his distraction was on his plans for patrol that evening while the other 15% was split up over his own growing popularity on Youtube, his incomplete homework assignments and how pretty Liz had looked that day at school.

Honestly, as spaced out as he was, he likely wouldn't have noticed that May had changed the channel, or that the news was playing on the TV if she hadn't turned up the volume to listen to it herself. There was something major happening on the screen though, and he found himself tuning in when he heard the newscaster talking about a multicar collision that had turned shots-fired, and then finally escalated to full on homicide on the Crosstown Expressway just that morning. Peter had frowned in frustration and chewed his mouthful a little harder than necessary, immediately thinking that he should have been there. But he'd been in school. Dammit. He'd shaken the frustration off though, because skipping school wasn't an option, he knew that. There was no way it'd go unnoticed and it was a bad idea anyway.

He continued to watch, absently lipping and slurping spaghetti into his mouth as he stared at the busy news screen. The newscaster was talking about the high number of casualties, both the intentionally –and violently- murdered, as well as the 'collateral damage' victims of the attack, the carnage of which stretched out for a little more than two miles on the Expressway.

Peter sorely swallowed the mouthful he'd been slowly chewing, nausea churning in his stomach when he watched the helicopter footage onscreen pan out over the aftermath of the scene that morning as it flew along the long stretch of highway. And he swallowed again, eyes a little wide in shock when he spotted a large amount of blood on one of the overhead directional signs. He could only think of it as a splat from the way it looked, and considering the fact that the fire department and forensics people could be seen trying to elevate some people up there, and that there was a tarp covering a body on the car below the splat, it was quite obvious that a person had hit that highway sign…hard.

'Jesus, how even…?' he wondered with a few stunned blinks and a grimace at the continued aftermath display of violent murder and mayhem on the screen. In the next moment, a very poorly captured video took over the screen as the newscaster went on explaining the video. The footage was made unclear by too much blur from motion, because someone was running with their phone out no doubt, but the backs of several men with guns was visible enough, and they were all aiming at a car flipped on its side in the distance. Peter watched, curious and confused, when a mask covered head popped up on the other side of the car for a second before the gunmen all started shooting. The video ended there with panicked abruptness, scared screams of civilians cutting off. Obviously the person recording had wisely decided to flee properly. They'd probably run away fast after that, which was what they should have done from the beginning.

By the end of the recap of that morning's main news story, and after showing the crazy back up of traffic as explanation for why the police and other emergency responders hadn't gotten there sooner, the footage ended and the newscasters finally moved on to describing what they'd likely been told by witnesses was the description of the assailant. And while it really wasn't much, Peter didn't find it comforting that the guy had been so plainly described as a man wearing a full body red suit, because his own outfit had a lot of red in it and was full body, and he didn't want people speculating about all red suited supers out there and mistaking him for being the 'armed and dangerous' man who had killed all those people and caused all that chaos on the Expressway! Crap!

They didn't even have a name for the guy, so Peter couldn't even go looking for him, and he wasn't sure if he even wanted to. The guy was obviously very dangerous and everything he'd caused on the Expressway was kind of terrifying to think of. Hell, Peter found it really disturbing that a witness driving at the time of the attack had claimed to see the suited assailant fall from the sky straight down into one of the cars of the gunmen, which was apparently how the entire debacle had started. Did that mean he could fly, too? Damn.

The horrible news story didn't leave his mind for hours afterward, and later that evening while on patrol, during a lull in activity, Peter had sat on a rooftop corner of a five story building, relatively far from home, and he'd decided to Google the incident. It was then that he'd discovered a few more interesting details about the incident. Like that an X-Men Blackbird had apparently showed up, but the X-Men hadn't stayed long enough for the police to find out if they knew who the assailant was. The internet also revealed that among the marksmanship headshot kills made by the red suited assailant, some of his worst acts of violence had been a decapitation, a guy who'd been turned into a bloody Rorschach splat on the overhead sign, a katana skewered man, several mangled bodies caused by the car collisions and also a severed, unidentified black gloved hand. The information may have been fake or exaggerated, but honestly, some of the bravest and often most reliable 'news reporters' were those who hosted their own online news sites dedicated to revealing all the gory details.

And gory they were.

More officially though, the police had recovered two katanas and exactly –only- twelve Desert Eagle Mark XIX bullet shells, all of which were believed to belong to the assailant. So…only twelve bullets. One man, two swords and twelve bullets. Peter wasn't sure whether to be impressed or worried about a guy who fell out of the sky, caused so much damage and destruction and took out three SUV's and three motorcycles carrying machine gun wielding, likely professional, bad guys, all on his own, with so little ammunition and two swords. And yes, bad guy seemed like it was a profession these days.

The entire story seemed so crazy and so out there that it'd stayed on his mind for a long time…

That was, until Tony Stark showed up at his and May's apartment talking about taking him –i.e Spider-Man- to friggen' Berlin! At that point, the unknown red suited super, who was probably some kind of up and coming villain, ceased to be on Peter's mind, because not only was Iron Man and the Avengers soooo way more important, there also hadn't been any other news about the red suited katana wielding man for months, and in a place like NY where all kinds of things were going on constantly, it was really hard to stay relevant.

The novelty of the Avengers did start to wear thin though, especially when after the trip to Berlin, he was left with no actual contact with Mr. Stark. His fifteenth birthday passed by, totally unmemorable; shared with May at home with the only extra additions being a chocolate birthday cake and Ned having come over to visit.

More time passed after that and Happy kept brushing him off, over and over, leaving him feeling insignificant and underestimated. And it wasn't that he really wanted something bad to happen in New York, because that would make him a shitty person, but he just wanted to do more to help people...and maybe he was also a little bored.

Right up until he wasn't anymore, because Flying Vulture Guy, AKA Liz's dad, showed up, and then Peter got a taste of his first actual villain...

…as well as his own blood pooling on his tongue from having Flying Metal Vulture Guy kick the ever-loving shit out of him.

The aftermath of the whole ordeal seemed deceitfully calm in the wake of the blazing fire trail left by the Stark plane when it'd crashed down on Coney Island beach.

But at least the cool air felt good on his face where he sat high up on the Cyclone, taking in shallow breaths due to the fact that he probably had a few cracked -or broken- ribs from being slammed into the ground under a friggen' metal talon a handful of times. There was nothing soft about sand when hitting into it with that amount of force and pressure, yeesh! He was trying not to think of how beat up he looked though, or of how he was going to explain it all to May, because even though he healed faster than was normally humanly possible, it would still take at least a day or so for him to be painlessly functional again, and the bruising would linger a little longer than that. He couldn't hide from May forever, logically he knew that, but for the time being he'd just keep winging it when making up excuses.

He sat for a while longer trying to process everything, but it was when he shifted, finally ready to start making his way home, that he groaned, first from the ache around his torso, and then drawing out into a whinier groan, because he remembered that he was almost out of web fluid in his single remaining shooter. He'd reloaded his last cartridge after the fight and then used most of it up securing Stark's crates and Vulture Guy all together. And shit, his shoulder hurt too, from being yanked around trying to turn an airplane and then trying to keep Vulture Guy from dead dropping him and flying away.

Talk about a shitshow.

There was nothing for it though, this was what he'd signed up for in becoming Spider-Man, and he was smart enough to know that there would probably be worse someday, although, he did hope it wasn't any time too soon. He wanted to at least heal up first. So, maybe a month at least…?

Crime didn't wait for anybody though.

Taking a slightly deeper breath and mentally fortifying himself, he got a good grip on the nearest metal bar and began to cling and crawl his way down the frame of the rollercoaster, grimacing through the aches and pains in his body as he mentally calculated how long it would take him to get home on foot. Queens wasn't crazy far from Coney Island, but without public transport or his web shooters and the soreness of his body, it would take a while and it'd feel much longer.

Hell, he couldn't even take the subway because he had no money or his pass on him.

He sighed heavily -which hurt his ribs, ow- right when he reached the ground, having just gingerly dropped off the rollercoaster frame onto the concrete. And he was thinking tiredly to himself about all of the destruction that was stretched across the shore, thinking of the many times the city had been faced with cleaning up supers' messes, and for the first time in months, thinking of the mess that the red suited guy had made on that highway, when the worst possible coincidence that could have happened, happened; he turned around and came face to face with the very same red suited guy.

Or rather, face to mask. Okay, well actually the guy was standing several meters away from him, but still.

'Fuck.' Peter, immediately flushing hot with panic, inwardly cursed, using a word he only did when he made a major mistake, like right then, when he'd been too caught up in his mind, with the pain and all the shit he'd just been through, to remember that he was bare-faced. And now he was standing unmasked before someone he was entirely sure was a villain.

He didn't even have the luxury of second guessing himself on whether it was the man from the news, because on the man's body was a plainly visible array of weapons, including two katanas and two large guns strapped and holstered to his person. His very tall and very built person.

Even standing a short distance from one another as they were, Peter could easily see the difference between them in both size and height. And while, being Spider-Man, that didn't really intimidate him so much anymore, because super strength, all he knew about this man was that he was a super who had killed many people with very little ammo, very skillfully. And Peter had no way of knowing whether this super was stronger than his own super! The man could be super skilled and have super strength! So, the fact that Peter's nerves were rankled and his heart was racing in panic didn't seem so unreasonable to him. He swallowed nervously, hoping it wasn't audible, as they stood staring at one another in the relative dark, Peter doing his best to ignore the stinging of cuts and aches of bruises and fractures all over his body, the taste of blood still lingering on his tongue.

He knew the situation wasn't looking good for him, still, he was mentally preparing himself for another fight...but then a weird thing happened. Actually, a few weird things happened. First off, the masked man squinted, and someway, somehow, his mask's eyes expressed it, the whites narrowing into a squint in the same way real eyes would. And that was so bizarre, because Peter could clearly see – very clearly with his enhanced vision- that there were no lenses, like on his own, on the man's mask.

He didn't have a chance to wonder about it though, because the next weird thing happened. The man – who was standing very still, with his hands stationery at his sides- tilted his head slowly to the side, and again his mask somehow expressed that he was giving Peter a very obvious once over, from his feet all the way up over the length of his body, before finally the white eyes of his mask locked with Peter's own wide, dark eyes.

There was a pause that followed, and it was tense and intense, but even as the fine hairs all over his body were standing on end from the sensation of knowing someone was scrutinizing him, his super senses were not sending any zinging warnings of danger to his brain. Was that a good sign? Peter just hoped his senses weren't messed up somehow after that fight because-

"Fuck!" the man stage whispered rather loudly and out of nowhere as he whipped his head to the side, making Peter jump slightly, startled by the suddenness of it. And his hands tightened into fists when the armed man added in a strained, slightly quieter whisper, "That's fucking Spider-Man!? What the fuck!" which Peter easily heard because his hearing, like his eyesight, was enhanced. He was confused though, because the man seemed upset? Unsettled? Bothered by something?

Yep, he was bothered by something, it was confirmed when the guy looked at Peter again with a distressed expression on his...mask. Then his mask's expression turned to one of forced pleasantness, white eyes impossibly crinkling with a smile not visible through the red material, before he spoke somewhat loudly and very cheerily for someone who appeared so dangerous and daunting,

"Hi, there, it's Spider-Man, right?!" he greeted, taking a sudden, naturally wide stride forward, that time startling Peter's confused senses enough that he stepped back less than gracefully, fists raising up just in case.

The man seemed utterly unperturbed by Peter's reaction though, simply ceasing to approach and raising his hands up in a way to suggest he meant no harm as he said,

"Whoa there red n' blue, this is not a hostile situation." Peter didn't even have a chance to figure out whether he believed the man before the guy kept talking, "You're kind of jumpy, huh?" he chuckled smoothly, placing his hands on his hips, "You wouldn't happen to be of the jumping spider variety would you?" he asked -jokingingly?- but again, gave Peter little more than enough time to twitch before he was talking again, "You don't actually look like a spider, like, at all! Not even a leeeetle bit, I see only two eyes and no extra legs, unless, are they retractable? Because that would be pretty fucking freaky to see..."

Peter frowned as the guy kept right on talking about how he didn't look like a real spider. He could hear strain in the man's tone even as he was clearly trying to make jokes and sound lighthearted, and Peter just couldn't understand why the man sounded like he was freaking out about something, not until his latest bout of strained chuckles turned into a wheeze and he said,

"What you do look like, though, is a fucking teenager." the last word sounding like it was a revelation to the guy, a deeply distressing one at that.

And while just a few days earlier Peter had been really annoyed by being treated and looked at like he was a little kid by Mr. Stark, in that moment, as he stood tired, beaten up, vulnerably unmasked and desperately wanting to just go home and not get into another potentially life threatening fight with a super who was older, very well built, and very likely had more hands on combat and killing experience than Liz's father could have racked up in a year, Peter allowed the sliver of fear and wave of exhaustion moving through him to sink in and settle into his weary bones, and he gave into the truth.

In a slightly pitchy, entirely Peter Parker -the teenage nerd- tone of voice, he squeaked out,

"Yeah, I am." and he hated how small and watery he sounded, but his body was aching, and he was so tired and really hungry. He was starting to feel just a little cold too, and the blood dried on his face was starting to itch and he had a long way to get home, and, and, and…

He really didn't know what to expect from the villain standing before him at that admission, and he felt so stupid because he was pretty sure it was going to backfire on him...but then, instead of the man laughing at him for being a kid, or whipping out one of his many, many weapons to start a fight, the guy started swearing quite violently under his breath.

There were several words said that Peter was familiar with, after all, he'd grown up in Queens, but they were the kinds of words he didn't use himself, and had never heard anyone use so very...fluently. Peter was sure there were even a few curses said in other languages, and then there was something thrown in there about the word man being false advertising.

He sort of caught on then that the man was probably annoyed at finding out he was just a kid, although why he was so annoyed wasn't clear to Peter, because if anything, he was sure that should make him seem less like a threat to the guy.

The cursing rant lasted about thirty seconds, Peter just standing by, before the man seemed to shake off whatever the heck was making him swear so furiously and he snapped his head up to lock his masked eyes with Peter's again. Then he took in a deep breath and let it out.

Then he was talking again,

"So," he clapped his hands once and rubbed them together vigorously, "you look like someone knocked you around some, Spidey. And by some, I mean a lot." he commented in a cheery voice as he again gave Peter a once over, only this time it was quick and cursory. Peter suddenly felt very self-conscious about the blood and bruises on his face and his sandy, sweat matted hair. He wanted to think of something clever and witty to say in response, but then the man was talking again, "Also, is it super-hero laundry day? Because I'm pretty sure the last time I checked out your a-aaah, I mean," he laughed and choked a little and Peter frowned and glanced down at himself, very confused, "I mean, the last time I saw you swinging around, you were in some very fancy, shmancy spandex threads, you know, sans the goggles, hoodie, soccer socks and...are, are those aqua shoes?" he finished, sounding highly amused now.

Peter resisted the urge to shuffle his feet and look over himself again, even though he felt pretty lame in his homemade suit when compared to the Stark suit. He managed to say something this time though, and channeling some of the confidence he usually only felt in small bursts under the masks of his suits, he shrugged and gestured with his head and hands to the smoking, fire lit shoreline visible in the near distance,

"What can I say, I thought I'd wear the appropriate foot ware for the job." and his voice didn't even sound too worn out or nervous, which he was proud of!

And when the taller man did an oddly fitting cartoon triple take between Peter and the smoking beach before bursting out laughing, Peter couldn't help smiling a little at his own stupid joke, his head tipping forehead as he ducked his smile, making his messy hair fall over his forehead as he sniffed and tried to keep a straight face.

The man wheezed again then, and Peter looked up to find the man staring at him with wide white mask eyes, so he said,

"What?" feeling self-conscious again, and then nervous for having dropped his guard.

"What! What what? Nothing, n-nothing!" the man sputtered, mask's expressive eyes showing a renewed distressed frown, "You just smiled, and it's, it's, you're just..." he physically shook himself again, following up with a hard slap to his face, "...a teenager, he's a fucking teenager!" he snapped at himself and then in a very quiet whisper to the side he said, "Bad, bad Deadpool. So gross."

Peter heard him though, heard every word, and with a slow blink and a dry throated swallow, pieces of the man's muttered curses from earlier clicked into place with what the man – Deadpool?- had just said, making understanding of the situation, of the man's distressing wheezes, begin to dawn on Peter. And what was that the man had almost said about checking out his a-

There was a screeching of tires on asphalt nearby, which made Peter blink away what he'd been thinking, even as his cheeks -neck and ears too- reddened with a new awareness of the other man's issue with him being a teenager. Peter chanced a glance at the guy as his face burned, only to find the man now looking across the distance of the amusement park to where the tire screeching sound had come from. Peter looked as well and saw there was a cab parked there, just outside the entrance.

Then,

"Hey, DP!" a man with an Indian accent yelled cheerily as he hung out of the driver's side window of an NY cab, waving an arm.

The man -DP, so probably Deadpool- raised his arm, hand open, to the man and yelled back,

"Dopinder!" his voice still sounding strained as he closed his hand into a fist and then lowered his arm.

"Sorry I'm a little late, DP," Dopinder continued to shout into the quiet night of the park, "there was an incident, I almost shot myself with the gun you gav-…

"Okay! You crazy kid!" Deadpool laughed too loudly as he yelled over whatever worrying thing the cab driver had been about to say, and Peter could only frown as he watched the exchange, "Share time later, kay! I'll be right there, sit tight!" DP added.

Peter blinked away the strangeness of the moment at those last words because it occurred to him that Deadpool would be leaving soon, in a cab. And while he knew he should feel relieved to be getting away -hopefully unscathed- from someone who was -probably?- some kind of a villain, he couldn't help but feel sad about the fact that he'd have to sorely swing, walk and run home after Deadpool left in a cab.

"Okay!" Deadpool said loudly and Peter bodily flinched again at the suddenness of it, thinking back to Deadpool's comment about jumping spiders and hating how that lame joke felt so fitting right then. He was just beginning to step backwards to take his leave and start the long trek home, when Deadpool said,

"Put your mask on, Spidey." Peter stopped all movement in confusion of the instruction and he didn't even register the need to react as Deadpool approached him, walking right up to stand just a foot away,

"Dopinder is a sweet little drop of brown sugar and is about as dangerous as a cricket," the man kept talking as he leaned in close enough to snatch Peters mask from where it was sticking out of his pants pocket, "but I think you've had enough exposure for one evening," he adjusted the mask's opening in his hold and began to pull it down over Peter's head quite gingerly, "and it's definitely past the bed time of thirteen year olds." Deadpool added, and Peter finally snapped out of his confused, sluggishly reacting daze, because thirteen! Hell no, he did not look thirteen!

He abruptly pushed Deadpool's hands away from his head where the man had been doing a poor job of correctly setting the goggles over his eyes, and he did it himself hastily, wincing softly to himself as the material snagged at the dried blood and cuts on his face. Breathing accelerated and feeling alarmed and frustrated at how out of it he was to let a dangerous villain get so close into his personal space without reacting, Peter squared his shoulders, stuck his chin out, looked up at the man and said the first thing that came to mind as he pointed a fingerless-gloved digit into the taller man's chest,

"I'm fifteen." he stated, and then promptly felt like an idiot for saying so, because really, how was that much better?

He was so done with this whole night.

Deadpool groaned loudly as if he was in pain, his head falling back as he muttered up toward the sky; 'onlyfifteenfuckmylifewhy' under his breath, confirming that what Peter had thought was the problem, was indeed the problem. It made him blush again under his mask, an especially deeper blush now that they were standing so much closer and Peter could properly see how much broader, bigger built and taller than him Deadpool actually was.

The man was a whole head taller and some extra, dammit. Not even Mr. Stark towered over him like this. Peter didn't even know how to feel about this man being, well, attracted to him, or rather, to Spider-Man, who Deadpool had now just found out was actually not a man at all. He was probably really let down, Peter supposed. And he'd said gross earlier, so that made Peter feel even worse, inadequate somehow. Deadpool had also said 'false advertising' in his rant, and it made Peter realize now that a lot of people would probably be severely underwhelmed to find out who was actually beneath the mask, for whatever reason.

He was so lost in thought, exhaustion and some new self esteem issues really baring down on him, that he failed to react again when Deadpool was suddenly standing behind him at arms distance, his hands settled firmly on Peter's shoulders as he began to push Peter ahead in the direction of the park's entrance, to where the cab waited.

"Wha?" Peter tried to ask, attempting to glance over his shoulder at the man directing him to walk.

"Weren't you listening, Baby Boy?"

Baby what now?

"I said Dopinder will take you home," he clarified, and Peter frowned under his pinching, itching mask, wondering how he hadn't noticed the man having said that to him. Then again, the guy did talk a lot, "you're all banged up, and considering where I usually see you swinging around, I'm guessing you're a fair ways from wherever you call home in the Big Apple. Also the police will be here soon to see about that burning plane you hitched a ride on to get here and it'd be best for everyone if no red suit wearing super people were in the general vicinity of any of the deaths that occurred on Coney Island this fine evening."

Wow, case in point much with the talking a lot thing.

They'd reached the cab by this point and Peter was a mess of tired confusion and numb resignation. And Deadpool's tone was so sure, and his hands so steadying and Peter's senses were all calm and not warning him against anything negative at all, so when Deadpool released his shoulders and opened the cab door for him, Peter followed through and got in.

He felt a flare of panic then, purely his own and not born of his senses, once he was inside because the space was so enclosed and he didn't know Dopinder and Deadpool and how could he be taken home when where he lived was not supposed to be known by anyone!?

He tensed up, sitting rigid in the backseat and fully prepared to get out of the cab via the other door that Deadpool wasn't standing by, but then the man shut the door without getting in and moved away to lean by Dopinder's open window, where he spoke to Peter again,

"Dopinder will take you home, or to wherever you ask him to so that you can get home," and then he looked at Dopinder, "and this particular person was never in your cab, right buddy?" Peter couldn't help noticing how Deadpool's tone went from fun and friendly to just a hint of cold and foreboding.

"Absolutely DP, you're the only person in a fancy red suit that I've ever had the pleasure of transporting." Dopinder said cheerily, all smiles.

Peter was stunned by the earnest reply from the cab driver that came with zero hesitation, even in the face of what was technically kind of a threat, and Peter also noted the fond, slightly reverent tone of Dopinder's voice as he spoke to Deadpool, like the man was a super hero to him…

But Deadpool was a villain…wasn't he?

"That's why you're my favourite." Deadpool said in a cutesy whisper and honest to god booped the cab driver on his nose with his gloved index finger.

Then Deadpool pushed his head through the window, totally crowding the cab driver back into the seat and probably squishing the man's face with part of his shoulder, in order to wave at Peter, wiggling the fingers of his hand not supporting his weight on the door as he said,

"Night, Baby Boy, don't let the bed bugs bite!" and then he pulled back somewhat, but paused almost out the window to add, "Unless they're spiders and it's like, a part of your whole schtick...wait, do spiders bite other spiders?" he looked at Dopinder up real close and Dopinder shrugged, looking confused, "Hm," Deapool looked at Peter again, "Well, whatever, no judgement."

Peter couldn't help mumbling,

"Spiders aren't bugs." but Deadpool had already pulled all the way out of the window and Dopinder was relaxing in his seat again, looking no worse for wear, like he was used to it, even as he casually wiped something thick and red off his cheek with his fingers.

Peter blinked.

"What about you, DP?" Dopinder asked.

"Don't worry about me, honey bunches," he pinched Dopinder's cheek, "Where there's a will, there's a Wade." he said, sounding like he was very amused and thought he was very wise.

"I don't understand what that means, but in you I trust, DP." he smiled up at Deadpool and the man responded like he was sending Dopinder out of a quest, with hand gestures to accompany his words,

"Go now, Dopinder, with all the strength and grace you surely don't have, but with your super power..." a physical cue was given and Dopinder whispered,

"Courage." with some conviction.

"Exactly." Deadpool humoured him, and then the roof of the cab was tapped twice to signal that they could go and Peter blinked again as the cab engine turned over and they lurched forward violently on acceleration.

It was a few long seconds that passed before he couldn't help it anymore, and he turned in the seat to look out through the back window, but he was surprised to find no one there, and so his eyes trailed to the still burning flames on the beach, and the flashing lights of police and ambulances down the stretch of the shoreline. He turned to sit properly and slid down low in the seat, feeling a weight settle in his stomach at the sight of the plane wreckage, along with all of his stress about Mr. Stark, the Vulture and Liz, washing over him all at once and weighing down on him so much that he just let his guard down, just for a moment, and closed his eyes.

Aside from asking where Peter wanted to be dropped off after they entered the city proper, Dopinder surprisingly didn't attempt to make any small talk with him, even when it was clear Peter was having a hard time staying awake. Peter had to wonder if the lack of talking was because the cab driver was taking what Deadpool had said about not acknowledging who he was transporting seriously.

Either way, Peter had to break the silence near the end of the journey, when he was close to being dropped off a few blocks from where he lived and he remembered he had no money to pay for the cab ride, and he hadn't seen Deadpool give Dopinder any money. And why was it only occurring to him right then? Why hadn't he been more concerned about Deadpool paying for a cab for him in the first place? Even though now, it didn't seem the cab was paid for. Mr. Stark would kill him if the man knew how careless and ditsy Peter had been all night, post fighting the Vulture...and maybe while fighting the Vulture too, just a little. Ugh.

Dead, Mr. Stark would kill him dead.

"I- I don't have any money on me," he started, voice uncertain and nervous, sounding too loud in the quiet cab as a small amount of panic set in over not being able to pay for what was surely an expensive trip, "I'll have to, uh-…"

"Do not worry yourself, Friend of DP," and yes, it was capitalized in Peter's mind because Dopinder said it like it was an honorary title of some sort, "the trip is free of charge." he added, only just glancing back at Peter via the rearview mirror.

All Peter could do was slump back into the seat again, mumbling out a 'thank you' as he stared at his dirty gloves and fingertips in his lap. It was just as well really, it's not like he had any ideas of how he would have paid Dopinder for the trip…

But then, in reality, he was pretty sure it was Deadpool he owed, not Dopinder.

Hours later, after Peter had snuck inside through his bedroom window without waking May, had texted Ned to say he was alive and well, had showered and cleaned up his already slowly healing cuts and bruises, and was lying in his bottom bunk, very ready to fall asleep, to let his exhaustion take a hold of him, he just couldn't get his mind to rest.

So many things had happened that night, and while one would think his fight with the Vulture and his victory at saving as much of the Stark tech as possible was what he was thinking about, it wasn't.

No, Peter was thinking about his encounter with Deadpool.

He now knew the man's super name, and possibly his first name too, because 'Where there's a will, there's a Wade' could only be interpreted so many ways, and Wade was so obviously a name.

So Deadpool's real name was probably Wade. And many things had happened that night with Deadpool that had Peter confused and worried, to the point where, now that he was comfortable and safe and slightly more clear headed, he was cataloging everything he'd seen but had not properly noticed at the time when it was happening.

Like, when Deadpool had approached him and stood close enough that Peter had noticed their size difference, at the time and after, he'd seen but had not acknowledged several other things, such as the fact that Deadpool had smelled like raw iron to his enhanced senses, and that Deadpool had mentioned there being 'deaths' on Coney Island that night, as well as the fact that Dopinder had wiped blood off his cheek from where Wade's -incidentally blood red suit- had touched his face.

All in all, those signs all pointed very clearly to the fact that Deadpool had been on Coney Island for some kind of killing spree, probably not unlike the one he'd caused on the Expressway a year prior.

So, in conclusion, Deadpool was definitely a killer. A killer who now knew Peter's face.

And there was also the fact that Peter hadn't even considered trying to subdue him, even though Peter knew he was a killer. Hell, Peter hadn't even wanted to fight him, and not just because he'd been tired and sore, but also because he hadn't sensed any danger from Deadpool, not even a tiny hint. Everything about Deadpool had disarmed him, made him want to drop his guard. Sure, the man had been alarmed to find out his age, and had apparently felt awful about whatever non-platonic interest he felt for Spider-Man before finding out he wasn't a man yet. But his demeanor had been harmless and friendly the entire time, and Deadpool had proceeded to help him, to send him home safely, to foot the bill, and all the while, without even any danger or expectations directed at Peter.

The whole thing left Peter feeling conflicted and confused and uncertain. He had no idea if he should be worried about Deadpool finding out his name and address, or interfering in his life, trying to hurt May, or his friends, or Mr. Stark, because for some reason he just didn't feel like he needed to be worried. And that was bogus, right?! Deadpool should have sent his spider-sense into a tizzy, the man was dangerous! And yet...

Yep, Mr. Stark would be so angry about all this.

Peter blinked sleepily as he thought about Mr. Stark, who was Iron Man and didn't need Peter to be worrying about his safety. With that thought he decided right then that Mr. Stark was well connected and well protected and all that, and Peter figured it was probably a good idea to ask him about Deadpool. He'd probably know something.

Taking in a deep breath, Peter rolled off his back onto his side, finally ready to go to sleep now that he'd decided to talk to Mr Stark about it. He would not, however, be telling Mr. Stark about his interaction with Deadpool, and especially not about the fact that Deadpool had seen his face.

Nope, no. That was not going to come up.

No one else needed to know about that, ever, and he just hoped that despite Deadpool knowing, no one else would.

He had intended to bring Deadpool up with Mr. Stark the next day, or the day after that, or after that, but like, he wanted to wait for when the man was no longer annoyed about all of his screw ups and they could talk about Peter maybe getting his suit back. The thing was though, that he didn't expect that to happen too soon, after all, Mr. Stark was a busy guy and it figured to Peter that it'd take the man a while to get around to talking to him, especially after everything that had happened with the Vulture and the interrupted move upstate.

So to say that Peter was surprised when Happy showed up at his school to take him to the new Avengers compound to see Mr. Stark, would be an understatement. No, he was more like super stunned, and super excited and super nervous and feeling super worried about possibly facing another lecture, despite Happy seeming so upbeat on the drive there.

In the end, after he'd seen Mr. Stark and there had been talk of a press conference, of Spider-man being announced as an Avenger, seeing that incredible new suit and then making the oh-so-hard decision to heed the uncertainty churning in his gut and listening to all of Tony's previous advice about just staying on the ground to help the 'little people', then declining the offer and choosing to stay the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, after all that, any and all thoughts about Deadpool were buried beneath everything else.

And since, in the days that had passed since the Coney Island incident, Peter hadn't been given any reason to think Deadpool was looking for him, or was after him or anything like that, he'd kind of let himself relax about the whole thing. Instead of worrying about something that his inbuilt warning system wasn't concerned about, he just let himself take in the general din of life every day, which included dealing with the aftermath of the Vulture's identity being revealed and any chance of a relationship with Liz being crushed by her moving away. And then at night he focused on the importance of patrol and stopping crime. But he no longer had to worry about sneaking around though, because on top of everything, May had found out he was Spider-Man, and wow, that was just a whole 'nother can of worms.

So, the incident of meeting Deadpool - a maybe villain who'd actually helped him out- just failed to make the list of important things for Peter to focus on. He subconsciously, on and off, thought about it coming back to bite him in the ass, so he spent some patrols -back in his proper Stark issued suit- a little on edge on nights when he felt particularly high strung, waiting for something extra to happen, but it just didn't. And as time passed quite fast, more and more, the way it tended to when there was a lot going on, with no incidents or even any mentioning of Deadpool in the streets or on the news, Peter eventually forgot all about it, completely.

He figured it didn't matter after the first few seamless weeks that went by, and then was proved right when months and months went by without even a peep about the tall, dangerous and strange Deadpool. So Peter just forgot about it. Forgot about him.

His life was filled with Spider-Man duties and teenage issues, the latter being so much more difficult to navigate, what with turning sixteen and feeling just a bit less like a kid. He also had to manage May's paranoia about his patrols and her weird fussing over him being Spider-Man, not because she was against him being Spider-man, nope, it was instead because she was constantly encouraging him to be the best super hero he could be! Not at all what he'd expected from her, talk about a plot twist.

He was also making sure that he was excelling at school now that he had the 'Stark Internship' back, trying to remember to play the non-confrontational Peter Parker whenever Flash looked in his general direction to say something insulting. And then of course there were his teen hormones and a rapidly developing crush on MJ which was majorly distracting.

Life almost felt normal for a while there.

Of course that couldn't last, because aliens coming to NY had become an almost regular thing at some point.

Honestly, Peter had been excited and totally psyched to finally get to help the Avengers with a mission, a real mission, and he got to go into outer space, wearing the Iron Spider suit no less! It had seemed like a dream come true. But in the end, turning to dust without explanation and then returning to the world of the living, not to mention to a full on war a whole five years later, when he hadn't aged even a day, was no joyride at all.

And then, watching Tony Stark die…

Chapter Text

...so you thought you'd shed a layer, maybe try on some new skin.

Deadpool hadn't blipped.

It wasn't even that he'd turned to dust and then somehow fucking regenerated, no, he just hadn't blipped at all. Thanos, that motherfucker, his little universal spring cleaning trick had skipped over Wade entirely. And having not blipped, meant Wade had spent the following five -horrible, isolated, maddening- years in a half empty world wishing desperately that he had, wishing that just once the universe hadn't royally fucked him over and left him out, left him behind to suffer.

Wade had wanted to die plenty of times, like, so many times he'd lost count. After he'd lost Vanessa he'd tried to kill himself in many fun and creative ways, and after he'd gotten over that, he'd often let himself get injured to the point it should have killed him just to keep things interesting and see what would happen, but he'd never, ever been able to die in that nice permanent way that other folks did. And then the snap happened...the snap that could have finally killed him, once and for all, but nope, not him, never him. He could never get what he wanted, not one single time, something would always go wrong.

And so he'd been left behind again… except this time it was worse, because he'd been completely alone.

It wasn't like after losing Vanessa, where he'd still had some people. No...there'd been no one.

By some twist of the fuckiest, shittest, crappiest luck ever, everyone close to him had been snapped away.

Weasel, Domino, Al, Dopinder, Russel, Colossus, Negasonic and even cutie patootie Yukio...all fucking gone. And Cable had long since returned to his future after his time travel doohickey had been fixed up, but with his luck, Wade was sure that had Cable still been around, he'd have somehow blipped too.

And you know what, Wade wasn't even sure the snap would have worked on him, because blipping had been dying as far as he knew, and having blown himself to pieces that one time in order to die, only to come back to life in the process of regenerating -which hurt like a bitch bee tee dubs-, Wade was fully aware of the fact that fuckbag Francis had been right; if there wasn't enough of him left to grow back parts, then parts grew him back. So would turning to dust have been permanent? Would any of those teeny tiny dust particles somehow have just regenerated him? He had no idea, but he would like to have had the opportunity to find the fuck out at least. I mean, come on, give a guy a fucking chance to die!

Because the alternative of that, what he'd been left with, had been enough to send him spiraling into dark places that even being tortured for months in a dark cliché villain-esque underground lab hadn't achieved.

See, the thing is, there were a few things that no one knew, or maybe just didn't care to consider, about Deadpool, about what it was like being Deadpool, being in his mutated body...things that even Vanessa had never known because she'd never asked and Wade had never found himself wanting to tell her or explain to her.

For one, he still had fucking cancer, it just couldn't kill him anymore, and also it was far less aggressive than it had been back when he'd still been pretty and dying, but only because his healing factor kept it on a leash. Despite his healing factor however, having cancer still hurt like balls, and it didn't ever stop hurting.

Wade had always had a high threshold for pain at least, and so when he'd acquired his healing factor, the perpetual pain of having undying cancer in spades just all-fucking-over, coupled with his rapid regeneration, had gone a long way to increasing his already high pain threshold, building up a sort of natural pain block in his brain. Which ultimately meant that wounds, no matter how extreme or severe, didn't affect him in quite the same way it would other people.

So, when he got stabbed in vital organs, riddled with bullets, lost whole limbs, was blown up or ripped in half by massive -scarily awesome- mutants like Juggernaut, he could usually still remain conscious most of the time. And yeah sometimes he'd pass out when his pain receptors were too overloaded, but whenever he actually 'died' he'd come back pretty quick. On the surface, it would usually seem more like he had a few aches and pains instead of having lost limbs or having multiple bullet wounds or massive internal hemorrhaging. And yeah, medication helped too…and drugs, drugs were good, even though they didn't last long.

But all that led up to his second point, see, because at the same time as none of the people who knew him were aware that he was always in pain on some level, due to the way he handled pain, they also seemed to have formed the opinion that he just didn't feel, or barely felt, physical wounds.

But that...that was just not fucking true.

And sure, going slightly nuts had been beneficial in the way that Wade had been forced to learn how to compartmentalize like a pro, all so that he could still make fun of fucking Francis and his manly lady friend while the motherfucking super son of a bitch was torturing him for shits and giggles and science. But as great as compartmentalization was, there first needed to be things for him to compartmentalize in order for him to keep the really dark, really festering, fucked up, awful, broken and twisted mental, emotional and physical feelings and pains that he lived with at bay.

And when the snap happened, when the people Wade prioritized as 'reasons to pretend to be okay' all disappeared, and half of the rest of the world went with them, when everything from the bustle of people, the stock markets, the noise and congestion of traffic, shops, vendors, the sheltered and homeless people, the bad TV shows and pop music, the criminals, the super heroes...when all of it just became less, there had been no escape from it. There'd been nothing to compartmentalize, nothing to distract Wade from his already empty existence, especially not when after the snap it became a vacuous black hole that nothing, not even light, could escape from. Everything was just gone, just like that, a void, and he was left with nothing but memories and pain.

Even the fucking climate of the world changed when the population was halved, which made sense scientifically and all, but shit. It had really driven the point home.

And it all kind of sent him over the edge...okay, not kind of. Truth is, it fucked him up.

Everything had started to hurt, the ways in which he'd managed to mentally block pain before the snap just failed to work for him anymore, and so every day had been painpainpain and it had started to make him feel literally crazy. Unfortunately for what was left of the human race, one of the things he'd found that helped him combat his own pain, was the pain of others. Because their screams of pain made him feel better about his own screams of pain.

Wade spent five years learning that within him existed a level of sadism, cruelty and viciousness that was far more disturbing and intense than it had previously seemed when he'd been masking it with fake humor and fake friends.

In those five years, the pain was ever present and his humorous side -when it made an appearance- was more twisted for insult to injury than it was for comedy relief, because the punchline to every single joke was the life of whatever sorry motherfucker turned up on the list at Hellhouse.

Hellhouse being the new name of Sister Margaret's.

In Weasel's wake had come a short, old man named Bob Stirrat, who was known amongst mercs as Patch. He'd taken over and renamed the bar, picked up what was left of the business after so many NY mercs blipped out, but in under a year he'd built the business back up. And Wade took every job he could get his hands on and bullets or katanas into.

The fact that there were still criminals left behind after the snap was just fuel to the fire of his misery, and he made it a personal mission to take them all off the map, because they didn't deserve to still be there when so many others were gone. Wade didn't think that he deserved to be left behind either, but there was nothing for it. He was stuck alive, probably forever, and everyone he'd ever given even a remote shit about was gone and nothing served better as a temporary balm for the pain like spilling the blood of baddies still walking around like they had any right to.

That reasoning was not only his though, and Wade found he wasn't surprised to occasionally see Hawkeye picking up jobs too. They never did more than acknowledge one another with a glance and they never spoke more than a few empty, cursory words to one another over a beer at the bar. And whether or not Hawkeye knew that they had similar motivations for doing what they were doing, they never got in one another's way.

Wade had no idea just what Hawkeye had lost, Wade had no idea what specifically anyone had lost, he just knew that everywhere he went, loss was like a tangible thing, hanging heavy in the air.

Wade also didn't know how everyone else was coping, what they did when they went home at the end of the day, whether people were picking themselves up and moving on or drinking themselves a little closer to liver failure with each passing day…

...all he knew was that he'd talked to himself a lot in those five years; bad conversations, good conversations, hateful, bitter, self loathing, spiteful, deranged conversations. He'd lived in squalor because he couldn't be bothered to clean up even a little, just moved from place to place when the apartment or basement or warehouse he was in became entirely unlivable. He ate only every few days because hunger pangs didn't even make the top ten list of pains he was in and it couldn't actually kill him anyway. He lived without mirrors and almost never took off his mask and when night fell and the world was so much quieter with half the city's population gone, there was less need for light and some stars could be seen in the inky sky, it was so pretty and ironically peaceful.

But sleep never came for Wade.

The only 'rest' he ever got came after he'd put a bullet in his brain.

And then one day the Avengers – what was left of them- suddenly got off their asses and did something.

Wade had been regenerating from a gunshot nap at the time when it happened.

He'd woken up with a confused start when noisenoisenoise penetrated his half dead sleep. The hole in his head had still been healing, blood and brains still dripping down the wall behind his chair, some dried on his skin, and the fucking pain. Jesus Christ. Not yet, not yet, it had been too soon to be conscious yet, but because there had been so much fucking noise all of a sudden he'd woken up sooner than usual.

Wade had looked around blearily, head spinning and pain receptors screaming at him, thinking that it was like the world had been on mute one moment and then the volume was suddenly turned all the way up...

And after he'd picked up one of his guns and stumbled over to the window of his fifth floor apartment, looking out to see where the noise was coming from, he'd seen people, people everywhere in the streets. People where cars would have been parked or in the process of driving, and on the curb sides, and behind the windows of closed down shops and in the windows of the building across from his own apartment building.

They'd all looked like they were panicking and confused and Wade...Wade had started to internally panic, too.

Because what the fuck else was he supposed to have done!?

In the next moment he'd barely refrained from shooting the couple who'd suddenly appeared on the floor of his apartment, where maybe a sofa had once been. He'd only just managed to stop himself from pulling the trigger because they'd looked so pitifully confused, and then terrified when they'd seen his ugly, bleeding face. They'd screamed then, but their screams weren't like the ones of criminals dying, those kinds of screams calmed him. No, the couple's screams were like they'd just woken up from a horrible nightmare, only to find another nightmare, in the form of a strange, scarred, armed man, in their apartment.

It had been too much for him to deal with at the time, confused, still healing raw and feeling a little manic, and even though he'd known it was wrong, he'd threatened them at gunpoint to get out of the apartment. They hadn't hesitated and after they'd fucked off he'd locked the door, closed all the windows to block out the influx of sound from everywhere and he'd just sat cross-legged on the floor of his messy bedroom, covered his ears with his hands and rocked back and forth telling himself he wasn't crazy for what could have been hours...before he'd given in with tears in his eyes and shot himself in the head again.

A part of him had been so sure he'd been dreaming, or having a nightmare of his own, maybe even a hallucination, as if maybe he'd finally, really and truly lost his absolute fucking mind.

But when he'd woken up from regeneration in the early morning of that same day, with a splitting headache and the usual pain everywhere like it always was, making his nerves raw and putting him in a very bad mood, he'd turned on the TV and discovered it had not been a dream or a nightmare.

The Avengers had done it again, they'd saved the world...no actually, the universe.

The population was back.

A second invasion had been thwarted.

Thanos was properly dead.

Tony Stark was dead.

And it was all very, very real.

You'd think that would have made it okay again, even just a little.

But no, Wade had already lost too much of himself in five years, and the sudden come back of everyone? It only made him feel crazier.

He felt more lost in the world than when he'd come back from Weapon X.

He felt more lost than after everyone had disappeared.

Because, see, when he walked down the formerly empty streets of the past five years, it was unsettling to see that all of the people who had come back from the snap were just 'going back to normal'. The shops were being cleaned up to be reopened, people were walking around like nothing had changed, moving into the empty apartment's in the buildings, new vendors were setting up, even a few more cars were on the roads...but it was all bullshit, because under the surface everything was different and wrong, at least for Wade it felt that way.

How could anyone just go back to normal?

But they were. People were everywhere, putting their lives back together, getting in touch with other people and family from before the snap. They were all finding family members who had once been younger were now older, finding new brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, adopted family members and new pets and just accepting that shit like it was a-o-fucking-kay.

People were smiling somehow even after everything, they were happy...and yeah, he could figure they had a reason to be. But Wade wasn't happy.

Wade hadn't aged, he'd stopped aging after his mutation. So for him it felt like there was no proof in his life or in his body to show that the past five years had really happened, aside from the fact that he had lived almost like a fucking hermit slash hobo and had spent far too long being his own company for it to be healthy. But that was it. In the past five years he hadn't made any new acquaintances or 'friends', he hadn't become familiar anywhere or with anyone, not even for sex. Hell, prior to the snap it'd been real difficult to find a prostitute who would accept his money for sex, and post the snap, when half the population had still been gone, it'd been impossible. He'd stopped trying in the first year. So, it'd just been him. Him and him and him.

Now everyone was back and he had nothing to show for it, zip, nada, and to make matters worse, walking down streets that should have felt familiar and comfortable just seemed to feel alien to him. Even masked and covered up in layers of jeans, boots and a hoodie, he felt out of place.

And bumping into people on now crowded streets made his skin crawl so bad, and it took a few times for him to realize it, but Wade eventually acknowledged, with some shock, that he hadn't been touched normally by anyone, even just by being bumped into, in over four years.

It was horrible to realize it.

It was all so fucking horrible.

And Wade wasn't able to cope. So he went dark.

Wade decided to be just Wade for a year.

He buried Deadpool for a while in order to get his shit straight and decided to spend at least twelve months trying to find a balance between who he had been and who he was presently, because they were two very different people.

It started with him finding a new apartment, ten stories off the ground, bought in cash and furnished quickly so he could start to settle in. He resolved not to let it go to shit either, so he lived in his new apartment like he'd lived a long time ago, back when he'd been 'normal', before and just after he'd become Deadpool, when he'd been with Vanessa. He kept the place clean enough, didn't put bullet, stab holes in the walls, and he didn't let rats and roaches move in. He paid all the utilities on time and glared at all of his neighbours so they'd know to keep their distance.

He didn't go outside though, except for walks and exercise in the dead of night or twilight hours. He had enough money from his mercenary work to easily live without working, so he did. He did all of his shopping online, which had become much more efficient since the world was back online again. He bought proper groceries and he ate properly -not necessarily healthily- but properly, taking full advantage of the many Mexican food places that were around, old and new.

He started maintaining his hygiene again too, and he discovered just how much he'd missed showering regularly, wearing clean clothes, and having clean teeth. And now that he was taking care of those things again, he realized just how far gone he'd been that he'd let himself become so disgusting in the first place. He counted himself lucky for his healing factor in that he couldn't even so much as get sick or get cavities from poor hygiene, or he'd have been regretting the last five years on a whole new level.

He paid all his bills and bought clothes and other things online, too, and kept up to date with the latest news online and through television. There was a lot to keep up with since the world was building half the population back up. So much was happening.

He watched it all either feeling nothing or feeling anxious, but one thing, in fact the only thing, in the news Wade found himself smiling about, was that Spider-Man was back and protecting NY again. That was great. The kid had been snapped away with so many other heroes, to see him back was worth smiling about.

Seeing Spider-Man made Wade think of Dopinder though, and by extension, everyone else he'd known, or he knew rather. But Wade would not go anywhere near Hellhouse, not in the year he was taking for himself , and he'd purchased his apartment with one of his fake ID's in order to stay off the grid. He knew Weasel -at the very least- would try to look for him, and he wasn't interested in being found. Not yet.

He wasn't the same anymore, and not just on the outside like before, he was all fucked up inside now too. So he wasn't ready, he could feel it. And when he finally stepped out into the world again, he wanted to be ready. He wanted to be able to compartmentalize again.

So, his allocated twelve months would be dedicated to re-acclimating to the world being back to 'normal'.

But after a little more than a year, when he finally re-emerged into the world proper, he did so as Wade the first few times and found out that he'd been wrong. Five years of a missing population had come and passed, yes, but while he'd thought it would be different, in the end nothing had changed, even after being 'dead' for five years, people hadn't changed at all.

Because when he walked down the street in his hoodie, jeans and boots, people still gave him a wide berth or stared at him like he was an eyesore. Some made unsubtle faces of disgust or snickered, and a kid even started crying one time.

So, no, he'd changed...but nothing else had.

Still though, after a long year, he'd sort of pieced himself back together as much as he could. He'd roughly filled in most of the cracks and fractures in his body and mind from being so broken for so long, and he'd started to manage his pain again, he'd even started to make jokes – to himself- that were still inappropriate but not quite so dark anymore.

He still hated mirrors, but he had one in his apartment, just for glances to make sure he appeared at least mostly human and put together, even if it was only half true, half the time.

So, even though he struggled with himself now after six years, more than he'd ever done before.

Even though the second locked bedroom in his apartment, furnished with only a big comfortable recliner, a small side table and a suppressed Glock 17, served as his own personal suicide retreat.

Even though he felt manic under the surface of his forced 'normal' Wade persona.

Even though he wasn't okay, he looked like he was.

On the surface he seemed mostly how he had been before the snap, the only difference being that it was just way, way worse and ten times more difficult to maintain.

But Wade wouldn't give up, only because he literally couldn't die, so it wasn't even an option.

So, after facing the world maskless and finding himself still a nightmare for other people to witness, it was the easiest thing he could ever have done to slip back into his spandex, leather and kevlar, and just be Deadpool.

After all, being Deadpool was the only thing that wasn't a struggle for him. Polishing and sharpening up his weapons, strapping them on, concealing several more on his person; it all came so naturally.

Also, he looked hot as fuck in his suit.

And yeah, no, he wasn't the same and he wasn't okay, Wade wasn't okay, Deadpool wasn't okay, nothing for him was ever really okay. But the world seemed okay, or at least was apparently mostly unchanged, and Deadpool was still Deadpool. He was still a mercenary, a fucking excellent mercenary, and there were always assholes who needed to be introduced to Bea and Arthur.

For that reason, one late evening on a Fall night, Deadpool stepped out into the world, hailed a random cab and made his way to Hellhouse.

Wade found that he was not at all surprised to see Weasel show up at Hellhouse looking for him a week after he was officially back in the merc business.

He'd just returned from a job to collect his money and there was Weasel, waiting to see him.

Wade was also not surprised to find that he didn't have much to say to Weasel, at least nothing besides sarcastic comments and a joke at Weasel's expense here and there. He amused himself that way in between the other man's bitching and complaining about losing Sister Margaret's and his apartment and all other money and assets he'd owned.

Weasel also glared at Patch through his thick glasses every chance he got while drinking alcohol on Wade's tab and saying how much he despised what the man had done to his bar.

And yeah, okay, Wade didn't like Patch either, he reminded him too much of a living-breathing garden gnome, and Wade had often wanted to shoot him, but as far as the bar went, nothing much had changed about the appearance of the place during Patch's tenor, except for it being more brightly lit and the toilets being dirtier.

During their 'conversation', Weasel had attempted to find out what Wade had been doing for the past six years, and Wade had said a lot of words about a lot of things, but he hadn't actually answered any of Weasel's question properly and they both knew it. However it took Wade flat out telling Weasel to 'drop it', in a tone of voice Weasel was unfamiliar with and was sufficiently intimidated by, to eventually cease all questioning.

Then, in order to clear the sudden unease he'd invoked in his long time buddy, Wade had slapped Weasel on the back hard enough to hurt and proceeded to offer Weasel a job as his handler, since he was so very unemployed and Wade was still so very wealthy.

Needless to say, Weasel had accepted, even though it had stuck in his throat to accept working for Wade when once upon a blip he'd been his own boss.

And would you look at that, something's had changed in the end.

Word eventually reached Domino that Wade was around and a few weeks later she showed up at Hellhouse as well. Turned out she was an X-person now, not even in training, nope, she was a fully accredited and accepted member of the X-Men.

Wade had thought he'd feel jealous about that, but he'd actually just felt annoyed when thinking about what hypocritical and discriminative assholes the X-men were and had always been. Dom's news actually helped him to realize that he had no actual interest in seeing any of the X-Men he'd known again any time soon, let alone becoming one. So, he wasn't a mutant and they'd never really wanted him, not the big shots of the X-men at least. Well fuck 'em. Colossus and Negasonic were better off staying out his life anyway.

After six years and all the shit he'd been through, he was about as interested in them as he was in the Avengers, he felt like they would just make his already shitty life even worse and he would probably do the same for them. He mostly felt the same about Blind Al, he had no interest in reinserting himself into her life. During his re-acclimation period he'd looked her up, and then he'd broken into her temporary blip lodgings one night and left a duffle bag full of cash where she'd find it -i.e: trip over it- and that had been that. She was a good person – in her own drug using, foul mouthed granny way- and he didn't want to be a burden to her anymore. By that point he was used to being alone anyway, there was no need for a roommate.

He was genuinely happy that Domino was doing well at least. He really liked her, always had from the first time her lucky ass signed up for the X-force team. She was a good person too and that really counted in his book.

Good people were the people that deserved to live in the world. Everyone else was optional.

So he'd congratulated slash made fun of her for being an X-Woman in an X-Man world and he'd bought her a drink. Weasel had congratulated her too, although Wade was 122% sure the four eyed bastard had been grinding his teeth before and after the words left his throat.

Wade had found it very amusing to watch Weasel seethe.

When they'd parted ways for the night, Weasel skulking off to his newly acquired apartment -since Wade had paid him a decent advance so the man would stop whining about sleeping in a hostel-, Wade hadn't been prepared for Dom telling him she was glad to have seen him again, right before she'd hugged him.

It had been intensely awkward, because Wade didn't hug her back and he had been as stiff as a board, bent down to accommodate her arms around his neck while not otherwise touching her in any way. Considering Wade had used to flirt with her now and then and had once slapped her ass right before she'd punched him in the balls, his reaction to her hug was unexpected…for both of them.

After six years of not having been touched in anyway whatsoever beyond the barest of unavoidable human contact out in the world -and even that had been scarce – being hugged made his skin beneath his suit crawl in both a good and bad way. As if he wanted more contact but at the same time didn't want anyone touching him.

When Domino had removed her arms and had stepped back after the very awkward moment, she'd frowned while smiling and had apologized to him in a skeptical way, because neither of them had understood his adverse reaction to a simple hug. Wade had tried to laugh it off, claiming that he was self conscious of smelling bad, but they'd both known it was a bullshit excuse. Because while he had been in one of his Deadpool suits, he had come to Hellhouse straight from home, freshly showered and his suit was clean; they'd both been able to smell the cologne on him.

She'd shrugged it off though and had bid him a smiling goodnight.

Wade had gone home, changed into some sweats and a wife beater, he'd eaten a bag of potato chips while watching the Cartoon Network, and when his mind still hadn't quieted from all of his racing and conflicting thoughts and feelings, he'd gone to his second bedroom and locked himself in.

It was rare that it happened, but one very normal Wednesday as Wade was walking down a busy street in his usual hoodie/jeans/boots combo with his hood up, carrying a few grocery bags and a new unicorn plushie, that somewhat diverted the attention of the people he passed from staring his face, he looked up and saw Spider-Man swing by overhead.

The red and blue suited superhero came at high speed from around a corner up ahead, the backdrop of traffic and skyscrapers not doing anything to detract from his lean, lithe, tight little body in that form fitting, and very much new and sexy, suit. And Wade had watched with a smile as he'd swooped low on his web, just above the roofs of all the traffic and then he'd arched high and shot another web out as he went by.

Some people who noticed shouted greetings up to him, to which the sweet little peach actually responded with enthusiasm and a friendly shout of 'hey guys'. Most of the other New Yorker's didn't care though, and Wade couldn't blame them. NY was like weird-shit and super hero central after all.

He personally took a moment though, to watch Spider-Man careen by, appreciating to the full extent the sight of the sexy super hero in all that tight spandex, knowing just what a cutie he probably still was underneath that mask and suit, even now that he was older. Especially now that he was older. And that new suit he was wearing, Wade noted with a quiet hum to himself, did wonders for showing off that perfect ass far better than the red pajama pants he'd been wearing the night they'd first met on Coney Island.

Yeah, it was rare that it happened, but whenever Wade saw Spider-Man swinging around, his day seemed a little better for it. He walked the rest of the way home with a smile on his face.

It didn't take long for the two people from Wade's past, who had re-entered his life of their own accord, to start distancing themselves from him as much as they could. It was easier for Domino since she didn't work for Wade and didn't need to hang around Hellhouse, but Weasel eventually started to withdraw from him too.

Wade wasn't surprised by it, especially since he'd known all along that the things that were different about him since the blip would eventually come to the surface.

He had a good handle on things, but even he slipped up on bad days.

The first thing he'd done that had caused an immediate sense of unease in both Dom and Weasel when they were around him, happened on one night almost six months after they'd all become reacquainted. They'd been having drinks at Hellhouse together, Weasel and Dom had been there, and Negasonic too, since she was now both old enough and not old enough to drink after the blip. She'd opted to be old enough for the night, however and she'd tagged along when Dom had invited her.

At some point during drinks, Dom and Weasel had both pointed out that they never saw Wade without his mask completely off anymore. Wade, making a self-deprecating joke as he usually would, had pointed out that no one wanted to see that, and he'd flashed a scarred, white toothed smile at the three of them. He'd been about to take a sip of his beer afterward when another merc near the bar had commented loudly enough to hear, that yes, Wade was right, his ugly mug was not something anyone wanted to see.

Promptly and without looking away from the table and his companions, he'd unclipped his thigh holster, withdrawn his Desert Eagle, turned off the safety and had aimed off to the bar where the voice had come from before firing a shot. It had been a perfect head shot, as Wade had intended, and it had been loud and jarring enough, that despite almost everyone in the bar being used to the sound of gunfire, a few people gasped and shouted in alarm. Everyone stopped to stare, looking from Deadpool to the dead merc, but the music just continued to play, even as the unknown merc's body slumped into the bar and then down onto the floor, bleeding out.

It only took a moment longer, as Wade reholstered his weapon and sipped his beer, before everyone had gone back to what they were doing, albeit a little more warily than before. But truthfully, even though it had been a while, they were not unused to Wade's actions, a lot of the people in the bar knew he was trigger happy and that he had killed more than a few dickhead mercs over the years for pretty trivial shit.

There was no deadpool board hanging up in the bar anymore, not since Patch took over and did away with it. So these days, when someone died in Hellhouse, it was not because someone wanted to collect money, it was just because someone wanted to kill them, and it was far from the first time Wade had killed someone in Hellhouse just for annoying him.

But it had been the first time he'd done it in front of Weasel and Dom.

Patch could be heard cursing about Deadpool being a loose canon as Wade had finished off his beer.

Negasonic had stared at him with wide eyes and an incredulous scowl on her face for almost a full minute before she'd gotten up and walked toward the exit. Wade had wiggled his gloved fingers in a wave as he'd bid her a 'not so teen-angst filled evening' and she hadn't even deigned to give him the finger. He'd immediately known he wouldn't be seeing her again. And that was for the best, because she was a good person and he was not. She needed to stay the fuck away from him.

Weasel, who had gulped noticeably a few times, downed the rest of his drink in one long swig and kept his eyes down on the tabletop. And Dom said she had to go after Negasonic, so she had left a minute later, but not without giving Wade a raised brow look of 'what the actual fuck'.

They'd only been so shocked because they'd all known Wade in the past to take insults about his appearance with a pinch of salt, but that was the past, and Wade didn't tolerate that shit so easily these days.

The second incident that caused a more permanent rift between himself, Dom and Weasel, and more clearly affirmed that Wade no longer accepted random insults about his appearance, came over a month later.

They were at Weasel's place that time. Wade had taken on a quick job that day and Dom had tagged along since there was no killing required. It had only required as much discretion as possible to obtain some expensive information, and Dom was better at discretion than Wade was so she'd come in handy.

The job had been mostly successful in the end, and afterward they'd both gone to Weasel's place because as Deadpool's handler, he was now the middleman for Wade and he would be the one to pay up on behalf of the client.

But from the moment they arrived, Weasel had been complaining non-stop about how Wade had shot up the place and that there were a few mafia casualties and about how it was not what the client wanted. Domino shrugged and half-heartedly explained that things had gotten a little complicated so a gun fight hadn't been entirely unavoidable, which was almost but not quite true, since he could have killed them without guns.

But who gave a fuck anyway?

Wade, who had taken five bullet wounds too many that night, because it was hard to dodge machine gun fire, was already pretty annoyed and just wanted to get his money, go home, shower, eat and take a lead-nap.

So being as he was so on edge, when he told Weasel to just shut up and give him his money, Weasel made the bad decision to revert back to their old dynamic. He started spitting out words about how he should take a cut off of Wade's pay for the grief the client had given him and then he followed it up with a comment about Wade's appearance.

Wade honestly didn't even remember exactly what Weasel said, but it triggered the side of him he valiantly repressed on a daily basis, and in a quick and precise movement he grabbed Weasel by his greasy blonde hair and shoved him face first down onto the kitchen table they were standing around, sending the money piles fluttering and a half empty coffee cup falling to the floor with a heavy shattering clatter. Wade then easily unholstered one of his Desert Eagles and pressed the barrel to Weasel's temple where he held the blonde man down, his face smooshed against the gray linoleum.

Domino had stepped back, looking wide eyed as Weasel knocked more money off the table with his scrambling hands while cursing in pain since his nose was bleeding and blood was smearing onto the table surface. Wade stopped his squirming when he cocked the hammer on the gun and then Weasel was still and breathing heavily and he had his wrists on the table but hands raised as much as he could in surrender. He started to say something, but Wade spoke first in a no bullshit but cheery tone,

"I don't negotiate my fucking cut. Period."

He then told Weasel to count out his money and put in his duffle bag, on the double, or else he'd find out how much it hurt to be pistol-whipped, repeatedly.

Weasel agreed pretty pathetically and without hesitation as expected and Wade let him up.

He stood by, Domino too, although a little further back than before, as Weasel quickly and shakily packed stack after stack of green notes into Wade's duffle bag, blood still dripping from his nose, some of it onto the money, but Wade didn't care. His money often had blood on it, always figuratively but also sometimes literally.

Once his cut was in the bag Wade zipped it up, ruffled Weasel's hair, ignoring how the man flinched away from him, and then he turned to leave. He said a pleasant goodbye to Dom but she ignored him, just staring at him as he left while Weasel stood doing the same.

Before, Wade would never have hurt Weasel, or any of them, no matter what they might have said to him. And as much as he knew he shouldn't have manhandled and hurt Weasel in that instance, he couldn't say with any certainty that he wouldn't do it again at some point if Weasel pissed him off again.

Hurting people just came easier to him since the snap, or blip or whatever. When he got angry, he tended to be more severe and violent in his reactions, whereas in the past he'd been careless and impulsive. Nowadays, If someone pissed him off, he reacted before he joked, which was the opposite of how he'd been before, when everything had been something to joke about.

Wade didn't find much to laugh and joke about these days, but he was trying.

Still, Weasel and Dom finally got the new memo that he wasn't the Wade or the Deadpool they'd once known, and after that second incident, Dom stopped coming around to Hellhouse and Weasel did business with Wade in a weirdly professional way, whether over the phone or in person. Weasel barely reacted to him, even on good days when Wade was able to muster up his old personality and he'd try to lighten the atmosphere, Weasel was unmoved.

Wade supposed putting a gun to a friend's head would fuck up any friendship.

It bothered him, on some level, in some way, that his 'friends' were afraid of him, that they didn't trust him...that he couldn't always trust himself. But in the end it didn't matter, because those five years had fucked him up and he was doing his best with what he had left of himself.

Anyway, it's not like he needed anyone to be close to him, he really was used to being alone, and these days he believed he was better off that way.

Chapter Text

...I'm numb, I'm sedated. 

Everything that happened, up to and including Tony Stark's death, it was all a complete and utter nightmare, one from which Peter could not wake up.

In the aftermath, no matter how many times he cried himself to sleep and woke up to the sun shining offensively bright and beautifully in through the cracks in his curtains, or even after he'd be careless in a fight against too many criminals at once and he'd get banged up enough that he just passed out at home still wearing his suit, the next day would dawn and the world would still be turning and everyone who'd blipped out were all back and going on with life...but not those who died outside of the stones' influence, they were not back and never would be and it hurt so bad.

Tony was still dead, and Black Widow and Vision...and Cap wasn't looking so good these days either, old age was doing its natural thing and Peter just knew he'd be gone soon, too.

And Peter, who wished with everything he was that he could have done more to make some kind of difference, couldn't help feeling like it was never supposed to have been this way, it should never have turned out like this! But then he'd bitterly recall Doctor Strange telling them all on Titan that there was only one foreseen outcome in which they'd defeat Thanos, and now he knew that Mister Stark dying had been a part of that reality.

So it quite literally was meant to be the way it all ended up.

And not in some lame 'fate' kind of way, but in the 'everything that can happen, will happen, in every possible reality' sort of way.

And this was his reality.

He hated it, and those first few weeks immediately after the blip, after having lost people, were both a relief to be alive, as well as a curse to be alive. Someone who you love dying was one of the hardest things ever, and Peter knew a lot about loss. For that reason he was grateful May had blipped too, because it meant she hadn't had to live five whole years with the pain of losing him. She was spared that suffering at least.

And they got through it together, like they had in the past after uncle Ben...

It was different obviously, the circumstances were very different. The whole process of putting their lives back together after returning to a world where the place they'd lived and everything they'd owned was gone, it was a whole new level of shitty. It had been super stressful figuring it all out, but again Peter was left feeling fortunate and grateful to have Pepper and Happy in their lives, because he knew so many people didn't have the support of people like him and May had, and that they were very lucky.

And as it did, more time just passed them by, life going on and on and on; May finding work and getting involved in several projects to help people who were left without homes, while he went back to school to do his senior year over from the start. They say time heals, but really all it does is numb. And so, as the ache of loss began to numb, things began to settle around him and inside of him. Slowly but surely, he came to 'terms' with the way things were, with the losses and the changes and the fact that he was both 17 and 22 at the same time.That was hella weird to say the least.

And it was all a lot to deal with at first, but after a while it just became life, and that was the point of it all. Mister Stark, Tony, hadn't died for nothing, no, he'd been the only person out of billions, who could save trillions of beings and species across the entire universe.

And that was really something. Something to look at in the brightest, most inspiring light.

Tony Stark was a hero, a real hero, THE hero.

Peter's hero.

It was that inspiring viewpoint that made Peter's senior year go by without the feelings of sadness and anxiety that had plagued him so badly right after he'd come back.

He felt positive and clear headed and even kind of happy.

May seemed happy too, having left her day job to take up a full time role of helping the community. Her recovery center for people left destitute after the blip was attracting sponsors like crazy and Peter was also happy to be doing his part in helping New Yorker's just by being their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, even if sometimes he felt like a bit of a mascot, what with Spider-Man's face on badges and pamphlets for May's promotions. It wasn't a bad thing, but he was just so notoriously bad at being popular. Yeesh.

Of course, being used to being awkward and unpopular worked in his favour at school at least, since the entire dynamic of his final year of high school was different due to all the students who blipped having to repeat certain grade years of school. The whole hierarchy of popular mostly fell apart under the new circumstances and so Peter didn't have to feel like a loser at socializing when more than half of the people he'd known before the blip were all walking around at a bit of a loss about how to just go back to school.

It was actually sort of funny if you looked at it objectively.

Peter found it particularly amusing that the girlfriend Flash had had before the blip was now five years older than him and felt 'too weird' dating a 'minor'. And okay, yeah, he felt kind of bad for the guy too, but considering how crappy his own luck usually was, Peter felt really, really lucky that for once things were going well for him. Because MJ and Ned had both blipped too, and that meant that his best friend and the girl he liked hadn't outgrown him.

Especially the latter, because as a 17 year old, Peter was pretty sure he and Ned would have still been friends even with a five year age gap, but if MJ had aged up, then like Flash, Peter would have been shit out of luck in wanting to date her.

As it were, he was 17 and so was MJ, and he was like 94.6 % sure that she liked him back and everything was going so well as their final school year was drawing to a close. High school would be behind them soon and adult life would mean university and part time jobs and so he was really looking forward to the final school trip of the year to Europe because this was going to be his shot at telling Michelle how he feels and he had a plan!

He had a plan.

Then Mysterio happened.

It was a serious learning curb for Peter. It rattled him. It woke him up. It changed him.

Everything that happened with Mysterio brought his own naivety into a glaringly bright light.

He was too trusting, too soft, too gullible, too young.

How many times had Mister Stark chastised him and told him he was just a kid and he'd argued that he wasn't just a kid? And he hadn't listened, he'd never listened, and he'd gone on to make stupid, stupid mistakes. Then there had been the times when he'd wanted to just be a kid, and even then he'd messed stuff up.

His most recent screw up being the prime example: his absolutely stupid decision to hand over EDITH to a man he'd known for less than a damn week, just because the guy had been friendly and seemed understanding.

In hindsight, after he'd royally effed up, Peter could see that Quintin had barely done a thing in order to gain the kind of trust that Peter had hastily put in his hands. And it was like he'd just known that Peter would be stupid enough to do it too, like his entire game plan was to manipulate Peter and his stupid, childish one track mind at the time.

He'd mentally berated himself over and over in the time that passed after the whole Mysterio debacle, not showing it outwardly because he didn't want May to worry, or his new girlfriend, MJ, to catch on either, but Peter blamed himself for any and all lives lost to Mysterio's rampages. And he lost a lot of sleep over it, his appetite too. He also blamed himself for the damage to the beautiful cities of Europe, blamed himself for the fact that his friends and classmates had nearly died because of him, again.

It even occurred to him at some point during one of his many, many miserable self-reflections, that it was really ironic that the dangerous murderer, criminal, villainous super, Deadpool, had been someone Peter's impulsively placed trust in had turned out to be worth a hell of a lot. After so many years the man hadn't so much as made even a fleeting appearance in Peter's life since that day on Coney Island.

Although, Peter had also spared a thought or two to the idea that maybe Deadpool had died, considering the dangerous nature of his life, it was entirely possible. And he'd felt an odd, unexpected sadness at the idea, a sadness for the fact that he'd never really had a chance to learn more about the unusual man who had sent him home safe and sound in a cab during a moment of vulnerability that so many other bad guys would have take advantage of. But so much had happened since then, and he didn't have the time to dwell on something that happened so long ago, and so once again Deadpool was forgotten.

Life went on, it always went on, and pretty soon almost two years had passed.

Peter managed to attend university without a hitch, in part because he had been given a full scholarship, but also because being an Avenger apparently came with a monthly salary, a system which had been set up by Tony back before…

Well, before.

So, he didn't have to afford university because of his scholarship, which had always kind of been the plan even before he'd become Spider-Man and had met Tony Stark, and because of his Avenger salary he could afford the perk of having his own apartment. Also, he didn't have to spread himself too thin because of university, patrol and a part time job. It really made a world of difference to have a decent income, especially considering how tired he was all the time since sleep was still hard to come by.

And as for eating, honestly, if it wasn't for May calling him at least once a day and asking about his food intake, Peter was sure he would easily be considered to be starving. At least though, when he was reminded to eat, he tended to inhale a ridiculous amount of food thanks to his super metabolism's demands. But it was like he only realized he was hungry when he was reminded to eat, because when he wasn't, he didn't even notice he was hungry, not really anyway, not enough to seek food. Then the moment he acknowledged it, it was like the Little Shop Of Horrors in his stomach and he'd eat his own weight, and then some, in food.

So yeah, even now that they didn't live together anymore, May kept him on track with meals.

As for May, her business of helping people who had blipped had been something she gradually eased out of as the world settled back into itself, and she was finally calling what she and Happy were doing 'dating', so she was preoccupied with that. In a good way. And that made so much of the world right for Peter, to see her happy...with Happy. Haha.

Unfortunately, those two things, university and May doing well, that was where the happiness stopped for Peter.

The Mysterio disaster had faded into the background just as fast as other major villains who showed up with a big showy bang tended to. It was hard to stay relevant in a world full of supers and villains, let alone NY specifically. But Peter was still learning that the big showy villains were only one kind of bad.

A little over five years actively being Spider-Man, and he was still learning, and still taking knocks from reality as he patrolled more and more, and later and later into the night and early hours of the morning now as an adult. Peter found himself facing the everyday horrors of the world up close, and it was really, really ugly; the everyday heinous, twisted crimes that people were capable of.

He learned very quickly that it didn't take a super villain to truly shake him up, to horrify him, to anger and make him feel sick and sore. No, it was the everyday men and women, in the form of the common violent criminal types: kidnappers, various kinds of traffickers, rapists, murderers of all kinds, child molesters and pedophiles and organized underworld mobsters and gangs. And then there were even the 'less serious' disturbing types of criminals involved in domestic abuse, various sorts of hate-crimes and organized agenda and factional terrorist crimes, violent child criminals, white collar criminals…just so many kinds of criminals, so many bad, disgusting, evil people.

And for all that he tried to stay positive, tried to keep his head above water, it inevitably got him down, tore into him, stole away the little bit of hope and happiness that he'd once had due a lack of full awareness about the world. With each day and each horrible thing he witnessed, he became jaded in the worst ways. Not numb or apathetic, or any kind of feeling that would help him manage the nausea and guilt and sympathy and regret he felt for those he could and couldn't save, no, just jaded.

Being Jaded didn't stop him from feeling every bit of those other emotions, right down to his core, heavy in his stomach, stuck in his throat. And while it pushed him to work harder as Spider-Man, kept him dedicated to keeping NY as clean as he could as a Super Hero, as Peter Parker he was failing at keeping his shit together.

And that was why, after a year and a bit of being together, MJ broke up with him.

She said it was because he needed to focus on himself, she said that he should maybe see a therapist to help him deal with the dark side of being Spider-Man, the things he'd been through and seen that he hadn't – and could never bring himself to have – told her about. She'd gotten tired of his sleepless nights and nightmares that he never wanted to talk about, which led to him sleeping on the couch more often than in bed with her. She got tired of him not caring where they went out to eat on date nights and then being late to their dates as well. She got tired of his excuses for not making it to social events, whether it was friends, family or work, tired of him being beaten up, tired and sore. Tired of how whenever they did get around to having sex, ninety percent of the time he came too quickly or not at all, his body always out of balance, his mind either too involved in it or too distracted from it.

She'd been wanting to move in together for a while too, and he'd always avoided the subject. She'd wanted to go on a vacation like the one they'd missed out on as teens and Peter had postponed and postponed and postponed. She'd wanted him to remember to ask if she was enjoying her new book or if she'd had a good day, wanted him to be spontaneous, to have real conversations with her instead of internalizing...she'd wanted so many things, not even unreasonable things, and yet the things she'd wanted had been too much for him.

He hadn't been able to find it in himself to do them, to give them to her, to be what she wanted and needed.

As honest as ever, when she ended it with him, MJ had made it plainly clear that it was him and not her.

And he didn't blame her.

At the time of the break up it had pretty much crushed him, it had been a whole new and different weight of failure and loss to experience. Right after the initial severance, he'd gone through what he thought was a fairly normal break up phase; he'd cried when he was alone at night, and sometimes under his mask during patrol, thinking about how good he and MJ had been together while scrolling through photos on his laptop or phone. He'd binged on eating take out and junk food instead of occasionally actually consuming something properly nutritional. Also in the wake of the break up, his apartment became neglected, the place ended up being a mess he didn't care to clean, and often when he'd go out as Spider-Man, he'd be a little more aggressive during patrol in order to vent some of his frustration.

It had gone on like that for about two months...but then the haze of abandonment and loneliness had gradually morphed into just being alone and having more free time. He started tidying up around the place at his own pace, and being alone whenever he was home, he started to spend more time reading or watching movies, and enjoying TV series marathons. He started to take walks, make attempts at cooking, listen to music he liked, change some things in the apartment to suit just him instead of having suited 'them'. Over all, he spent more time on 'Peter' things, which was nice.

It was...nice.

Unfortunately, the major downside of being alone, was in those times when he was really down and had nothing to distract him from reality, he had a lot more time to wallow and regret and internalize and overthink, all things that made it harder and harder for Peter Parker to be a part of the normal world.

And so he hid behind the mask and suit of Spider-Man more and more.

Peter had a general route that he followed when patrolling, a route he was presently on, swinging between the tall buildings of New York at 1.20 AM on a Friday morning, his heightened senses advanced enough to focus on the noise of the city below and around him even through the rush of wind around his body.

His route was fairly wide reaching, he'd planned it a long time ago to cover a large enough part of the city, but it also took him through the most necessary parts of the city when it came to protecting New Yorkers. He also kept hours for patrolling that he felt were fair to those who went out in the daytime and the nighttime, usually starting halfway through the afternoon and staying out until the early morning hours. On days when he had free time he tried to cover mid-morning hours too, by that wasn't always possible.

On a good day, when university lectures went smoothly and everything lined up, he had about 3 or 4 hours of lectures and managed 10 to 12 hours on patrol, which then left him with some personal down time to sleep, go shopping for essentials -when he remembered-, or visit the newly built -though not quite so massive- Avengers Compound, where he would work in the labs or workshop on personal or Avengers related projects. Often enough he'd also try to see May, and even sometimes Ned, or if he was really exhausted he'd just stay home and eat junk food while playing video games.

Obviously, there were times when he didn't manage to cover his full route, like if crime came up somewhere else and the ensuing thwarting of bad guys monopolized his time. But other times when crime was down and he'd covered his usual area of distance completely without incident, then he'd venture out further, going sometimes as far as southern Brooklyn or past upper Manhattan depending on which direction his web slinging took him.

He never had a day off though, because being Spider-Man was full time, so he could never do all the things he wanted or needed to in one day, but he tried to space them out each week so that he achieved some normalcy in his life. But of course, since everything he did depended on his Spider-Man patrols, it meant that sometimes he ended up injured and needed to cancel or change plans abruptly.

When injuries weren't too serious, or in a noticeable place, he'd just wear a few more layers of clothing and continue on with what he had to do. His healing ability and some pain medsusually managed it. But when something was broken, badly bleeding and truly damaged, and required proper recuperation and down time, then Peter would put everything off and basically hide from the world for a few days.

He was sure he'd have used up every excuse in the book after so long, which was why he counted himself really lucky that everyone who mattered to him knew that he was Spider-Man, because it meant his excuse could always just be 'I'm a little beat up, just gonna' sleep it off', followed by a fake lighthearted declination against anyone coming to see him or check on him. He had to do things that way, because while his excuse was always 'I'm a little beat up', on those occasions when he hid away from the world in his apartment, it was never just a little beat up, but instead pretty severely beat up or badly injured.

He suspected that May had probably figured it out by now, that he was never completely honest about how hurt he was, but May was amazing in that she read him really well and handled his personal choices like a pro. The older he got the less she mothered him and the more she just supported him, and that was what he really needed; support. Ned always wanted to talk about the superhero thing, and to him pretty much everything was 'so cool', even when it really sucked and Peter hated it. Happy kept a close, but still decent, distance, always available when Peter needed him but never overbearing. And once a week Peter would get a call from Maria Hill for a routine 'status update and status check'. She apparently did it with all the remaining Avengers, the members of which Peter barely had any contact with aside from seeing them in passing when he went to the compound, or whenever the time came for Avengers business to be discussed, which had never yet happened, not since Thanos had been dealt with.

There hadn't been another Avengers level threat in NY or the world since Mysterio, if he could even be classified as such a threat, and before Mysterio it had been Thanos. Yeah, things had been pretty 'peaceful' aside from everyday crime. The closest NY had come to any major threat was several months earlier, when some guy called Doctor friggen' Von Doom -of all things- had kicked up a fuss, but the Fantastic Four -who Peter had only briefly met a while back- had dealt with him on their own.

Peter wasn't foolishly naïve and hopeful enough, not anymore, to think it would last permanently, no, something would come up eventually and it'd be ugly...because it always was. But for right then, for the last two years and some change since he'd come back from the blip, things had been...well, okay-ish.

Presently, he arched up from a swing high above an office building and did a flip before landing on the building's rooftop. He went straight into a run across the massive rooftop, preparing for another leap and sling off the edge as he tried to shake off the feeling of melancholy that often tried to weigh him down. He hated feeling down and he tried to avoid it and fight off those feelings whenever he could because he didn't have a reason to feel so shitty about anything, not when his life was actually really good and others had it so bad.

He really didn't want to be the kind of guy who was ungrat-

Peter skidded to an abrupt halt, all daily life pondering ending just as abruptly when he heard a scream, of what sounded like pain, carrying on the wind. He did an about-face when he heard the same pained screaming again, sounded like a man, coming from a northwesterly direction. The sound only just managed to reach him up as high as he was, maybe twelve stories, which meant it likely came from all the way down on the ground and in an alley, not in the open street, and quite some distance away.

He immediately moved in the direction from which the screams had come, sprinting now to cover the distance of the roof faster before he reached a reasonable closeness to the building ledge and he extended his arm, shooting out a web at a slightly taller building across the street.

However, as he started to web sling toward the unfolding crime, he noticed that the buildings weren't that tall over all, which meant he was forced to shorten his webs because he was already swinging pretty low, close to civilian head height -had there been any civilians out at that hour. And it didn't take more than a glance around for him to realize he'd gone off route on one of his further patrols that night, and by the looks of things, Peter was out past Upper Manhattan and was currently swinging into Bronx territory.

The dark streets being empty was good though, because it meant he could swing low and hear better, but he frowned under his mask as he closed in on the general area where the screams would have come from because there were no more screams to be heard. He panicked internally then, in the way he usually did when he felt like he was too late to save someone, muttering a soft string of 'no' to himself as he moved quickly and tried to hear something, anything!

He dropped onto a low rise apartment building rooftop and jogged to the edge to look around down on the streets, his chest heaving more from anxiety and the need to find the person in need of help than from a loss of breath. The air was warm and his suit was starting to cling to him as he started to sweat, stress and worry setting in. He wanted to call out, which was something a younger Spider-Man would have stupidly done, but after several times of losing the criminal due to calling out in his haste and alerting them to his presence, he'd stopped doing that.

Unfortunately it meant he couldn't call out to the victim of a crime either.

"Shit, shit, shit…" he muttered, pacing on the rooftop backwards and forwards and side to side as he kept reaching out with his heightened senses for any hint as to where the screamer's exact location was. He wasn't hearing anything though, and with his hands balled into fists Peter felt himself becoming frustrated and angry while feeling that familiar ache of regret squeeze at his chest and throat for being too late.

In an attempt to calm down, he considered that maybe there wasn't a criminal, maybe someone had just been injured and so maybe he should call out. That seemed like a good excuse to call out. And even if the criminal did run, Peter decided he would hopefully still be able to find the victim and help them!

He nodded to himself, decided on what to do, and he hopped up into his usual agile crouch on the edge of the building, about to call out in the direction the scream had come from and then leap into action at the first call for help that might come...except, just before he could, Peter's hearing, strained as he currently had it, picked up the sound of distressed sobbing...of a woman.

It was a sound he was able to pinpoint and hone in on.

Peter shot a web out and was off at high speed, swinging hurriedly and very low to the ground with tense determination in the direction of the sobbing several blocks away. His heart rate was rabbiting with more urgency now, pumping through his veins faster, because first he'd heard a man scream and now there was a woman sobbing and that meant there were two victims, not one! And one would already have been enough.

He clenched his teeth in anger and made a sound of frustration as he swung around a corner, barely avoiding the rooftop of a parked off car. He really hated violent crimes! Peter would take dealing with a million bank robberies, drug deals, break-ins and any other less or non violent crimes than having to deal with people being hurt by other people. It was the worst and it made him sad and angry and feel desperate.

Desperate like he'd felt watching fellow heroes turn to dust, like he'd felt watching Tony die, desperate like he'd felt when Mysterio had been rampaging before and after Peter had known it was all him!

And that desperation that raced through him made him feel both confident and violent in a way that tended not to bode well for the criminals when he caught up to them. Seeing the extent of common violence in such excess over the years had made him colder and less lenient than he'd once been when he was just a naïve teen in a fancy super hero suit, wanting to help make the world a better place.

Shit...no, the world was so broken. Not even half mankind disappearing for five years had been enough to stop people from being so damn evil!

By the time he reached the sobbing – now louder to him than it had been – Peter felt livid, and he swung up and dropped down at the entrance to the alleyway, not even bothering with a flip or to stick some cool landing before he was stalking into the space between the buildings with his fists and jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached and his knuckles were white...

But what happened once he was actually several feet into the dead end alleyway was very unexpected, not just for the sight that met Peter's eyes, but also because of the sharp rush of shock, excitement and then dread and disappointment that flooded him. It was a quick roller-coaster of feelings that made him feel sick and confused, and it was all because standing rigidly up head in the alley...was Deadpool. Every bit the 6 foot 2 well built man, decked out in a cool black and red fitting suit, strapped for days with weapons; just as Peter remembered him.

Seeing Deadpool for the first time in years had sparked unexpected and confusing excitement in Peter.

But then the excitement and strange weightlessness he'd felt in his stomach quickly changed to a twisting knot that made him feel awful and sick, because Deadpool was standing there, yes, but he was standing there facing a semi-conscious, injured man, who was groaning in agony where he was pinned through both shoulders to the brick wall of the building by two katanas. His feet were not touching the ground, but his blood was with every drip, drip, drip from not only the wounds of the weapons spearing him, but also from another wound in his stomach. Peter could smell the blood now, and it appeared so black and so shiny as it steadily pooled on the filthy ground.

Peter couldn't have imagined he'd feel so deeply hurt and so upset at seeing Deadpool committing the sort of crime that he logically had always known Deadpool was capable of committing, had in fact committed in the past, that Peter both knew of and didn't know of. But there he stood, feeling his chest constrict in a whole new way at the sight of the man he'd only met once before, and had for some reason felt completely unthreatened by, now standing before him in the process of killing another person.

He didn't fully understand or know the reason he'd felt safe around Deadpool all those years ago, but that ever-naïve part of him had somehow categorized Deadpool -Wade- as not being an enemy, as being something more, something different, and now despite not having a single damn reason to, Peter felt like his feelings and trust had been betrayed.

It was like Beck all over again; he'd let himself trust Beck and the man had used his trust against him.

Deadpool though…Deadpool owed him nothing, not even so much as an explanation, and yet he felt so-

A sob sounded, shaking Peter from his internal struggle, and it was the woman's sob he'd heard before, but being much closer to the situation now, Peter could hear her quiet, hiccupped groans of pain too, he could practically hear her trembling. He felt even sicker then, because Deadpool had two victims lined up and Peter had to...he had to…

He watched, barely breathing as Deadpool turned away from the man pinned and bleeding on the wall. He watched as the rigidness in Deadpool's shoulders softened just a bit and his overall demeanor became less threatening, and then he was looking down and facing the opposite wall of the alley. Peter kept frowning as his eyes followed where Deadpool was looking to, and his body jolted with fresh shock when he saw the lower half of a woman's jean clad legs, tightly crossed closed, visible from behind some lined up garbage bins and boxes.

Despite his spider senses not even hinting at him that anything bad was about to happen, he feared the worst just seeing Deadpool raising his hands to settle on his hips as he looked down at the woman, and then just as Peter took a breath, raised his arm to shoot a web and stepped forward with the intent of stopping whatever was about to happen, Deadpool's hands moved again…

...to reach awkwardly for the woman as he bent slightly at the knees and said,

"Is it okay if I help you to stan-"

But Peter's step forward had been heard, and then he was seen, expressive white mask eyes sharply settling on him and Deadpool stopped talking and stood up straight, turning to face where Peter stood at the opening of the alley just as Pet-, no, Spider-Man, was standing, blocking the alley exit, and watching him.

Just like years before Peter had no idea what to expect, but also, just like years before, his spider-sense was completely calm, even as he stared across the short distance at a very dangerous man.

Then, in a voice that sounded a little surprised and a little strained, Deadpool said,

"Baby boy, surprised to see you around here."and he did sound surprised, but in a sort of subdued and somber way. Noticing that came secondary though, to hearing Deadpool call him 'baby boy', as if he hadn't only ever called Peter that weird thing one single time years ago, the out of the blue nickname falling from his masked lips like no time had passed at all, like they'd known each other well for years.

Like Peter was still 15 years old, when being called anything with 'baby' in it had felt like maybe it was a condescending insult of some kind, but now it felt so different...now it felt so personal.

They didn't even know one another, but recalling the...uh, highlights of meeting Deadpool, of when he'd discovered the man's particular brand of interest in Spider-Man back then, made his face heat up under his mask and he swallowed thickly. He caught his thoughts stupidly wandering and blinked rapidly under the mask, which made his mask eye lenses open and contract quickly, trying to adjust with a few noisy 'zzt' sounds, and then he shook his head once to clear whatever weird fascination-stupor he was caught in.

Refocusing, he let Deadpool's words sink in and he wondered if by Deadpool saying that, it meant he'd specifically been lurking in places where Spider-Man didn't go?

What the hell?

He didn't ask that though, instead his anger reasserted itself and he took another step forward, demanding to know,

"What are you doing to these people?" as he raised his arm and hand again into position to web Deadpool if the man made any sudden moves. He didn't even bother to put on his Spider-Man NY accent, because he knew Deadpool knew who was under the mask and suit, so there was no pretense required. And for some reason he felt sadness seep into his chest again for a loss of...of something, he'd never even realized he felt with regards to Deadpool in the first place.

"Oh, me? Nothing much." Deadpool said in a plainly fake lighthearted tone, a tone so clearly under laced with anger and malice that it was impossible not to notice, and yet, Peter's spider senses remained so calm. "I was just about to go Jennifer Hills Revenge on this fuckbag over here." Deadpool added, gesturing with a knife, that Peter hadn't even noticed he was holding, and actually poking the man speared to the wall in the chest with the knife tip as he spoke over the man's pained whimpers.

Peter frowned, not understanding whatever reference Deadpool was making, and somehow the older man must have correctly interpreted his narrowed eye lenses, because his own expressive mask let Deadpool know that Peter was confused by what he'd said.

"You're probably too young to get that reference, uh..." Deadpool tapped his masked chin with the blade of the knife just once in thought before he snapped the fingers of his other hand and said, "Last House on the Left, Spidey, yeah? That remake was more well known than the original for your generation." Peter just stared at him, "That's the kind of hurt I'm about to put on this asshole." Deadpool stated darkly. And he didn't need to say anything more, because he was right, that time Peter understood the reference perfectly and he felt a new wave of nausea set in, the situation dawning on him as Deadpool went on, "The revenge part obviously, not the rape part, because consent is very, very fucking important, but some sick fuck's just don't get that." Deadpool's anger reared its head, colouring his voice into a growl as he stabbed his knife into the man's groin abruptly and with force.

And while the man's screams of pain were loud and agonized, Peter barely registered it, he barely registered anything after he'd heard the word rape, because his stomach dropped out, and he felt sick and hateful because this, this kind of sick crimewas the true ugliness of common every day crime, of the common evil that trumped someone like Thanos or Mysterio in Peter's book. Because how could someone...how could anyone do that to another person!

He didn't even get to really acknowledge the relief he felt at knowing Deadpool wasn't committing the crime Peter had thought he was, because his entire focus settled on what he could see of the woman, who had drawn her legs more out of sight as she started crying a little louder, probably curling in on herself.

It all seemed so glaringly obvious now when he looked properly; the fact that her jeans were far too bunched up around her lower legs, and now that he paid attention he could see that her purse, some pieces of jewelry and even ripped cloth was lying not far away from where he stood leading into the alley. And even though it wasn't the first time he'd encountered a rape scenario, having been lucky enough sometimes to stop it before it started and other times only arriving when it was too fucking late, it never got any easier to deal with.

"You think you could help her out of here, Spidey?" Deadpool asked, voice a little gentler, and Peter was approaching him and what he could see of the woman before the question was even fully voiced. He allowed himself to hope that Deadpool had managed to stop it in time, but once he was close enough, almost stepping into Deadpool's tall form before he abruptly stopped where he could see the woman properly, he saw very clearly that Deadpool had been too late.

There was blood...on her jeans...her...on her bare upper thighs.

She was still crying and shaking, curled in on herself. There were bruises forming...

Anger and sadness made tears burn his eyes. He felt sick with it.

The man was still screaming hoarsely with a knife sticking out of his groin and Peter felt pleased.

Deadpool placed one large hand between Peter's shoulder blades as if to ground him...and It worked.

He leaned just slightly back into that bracing hand, just for a brief, calming second, before he nodded,

"I'll take her to the nearest hospital." because he could, should and would do that, because that's what he always did in these situations, because that's all he could do when he was too late. He felt helpless but he had to help somehow. He settled with bitter familiar ease into his jaded autopilot mode then and he crouched down slowly in front of the woman, speaking in the soothing quiet way he'd learned to use from past experiences,

"Miss..." he started with, because she was, oh god, she was young, maybe only a little older than him, and smaller than him and helpless and harmless. His stomach ached, "...is it okay if I help you stand up?" and subconsciously he realized that that had been what Deadpool had been about to ask her earlier, "I want to take you to a hospital, okay?"

It took some coaxing to get a shaky nod and answer of yes from her, but Peter, his throat sore from wanting to cry with and for her, was endlessly patient. And surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly, so was Deadpool, who stood by quietly and calmly, at one point placing a tight hand over the mouth of the rapist to quieten his shouts of pain and for help.

After she'd agreed verbally she tried to move, dissolving into tears and hiccups as she tried to pull her jeans back up her legs. And Peter...he didn't know how to help her, every time he had to help someone hurt this way he always felt so lost as to how to go about it, so he only barely touched her shoulder in tentative support and encouragement as she made no progress. Every situation like this was different, and Peter had never been in this sort of one before, where the girl was in a state of undress that she needed help correcting it. He didn't know how it had never happened before, or why it was happening now, but he started panicking again the more she cried and made failed attempts, because he wanted to help but was too scared to touch her.

Hadn't she been through enough? Did she need the humiliation of a useless 'super hero' watching her as she tried to regain some dignity!

Peter didn't realize he was shaking until a firm, sure and large hand settled on the back of his neck and he looked up at Deadpool, mask eye lenses wide, a shaken breath leaving his mouth as he wordlessly showed he was at a loss, he needed some sort of guidance. He just didn't know what to do!

Deadpool was not Peter though.

Not just because he wasn't a super hero, but because he wasn't nervous or unsure.

"Help her stand up." he instructed, voice very quiet and calm, but still firm.

Peter listened immediately, standing up himself and stepping to be beside her. He was still unsure about touching her, but Deadpool wasn't, he seemed to know what to do, so Peter listened, and he told the girl what he was doing just before he did it. Gently he lifted one of her shaking arms up and put it around his shoulders as he lightly gripped her flank and easily lifted her up. She was tense yet limp somehow and she cried more, trying to grab at her jeans with her other hand.

But she didn't suffer any humiliation because Deadpool, so quick and with such gentle, yet clinical ease, crouched down to grab the sides of her jeans waist and he pulled it up as he stood, letting go and stepping back when it was up over her waist and she had a white knuckled grip on it with one hand, her other arm now tightly curled around Peter's neck as she sobbed with her head ducked down. Her sobs were a bit softer though, which meant that maybe, just maybe, she felt even just a little better.

Peter's chest was still tight with many suffocating emotions, and some of the tightness had to do with an emotional reaction to Deadpool's handling of this situation. It was like even though he was unemotional about it, barely seemed outwardly phased by it all, he just knew what to do and how to do it, like he'd had to do it before many times; and who knew, maybe he had? Peter had too, but god, it was still so hard for him.

"Here." Deadpool said, making Peter refocus from what he'd been thinking, still holding up most of the girl's weight where she had semi-curled into his side. He looked at Deadpool, watching as the man roughly ripped the blood stained flannel shirt off the man stuck to the wall. The rapist cried out as it jostled his heavily bleeding wounds, more blood dripping into the growing puddle on the floor and running down the wall, but none of them cared. Peter didn't fucking care.

Deadpool proceeded to tie the large piece of material gently around the girl's waist to further conceal her state of undress. She was probably in pain, Peter guessed, and she seemed too focused on the basic necessity of being covered to notice much else now.

Peter's heart hurt so badly for her.

"They'll do a rape kit at the hospital, so you tell em' the shirt belonged to the rapist, his DNA is all over it. You also tell em' it was Deadpool who made the fucker bleed." Deadpool continued to talk softly and seriously, speaking to the girl more than to Peter. He possibly knew Peter couldn't stick around at the hospital for too long, it would draw too much attention, so he was telling the girl what she needed to do. But even if she couldn't, even if she wasn't really listening right then, Peter was confident the hospital staff would figure it out and tell the police whatever they could.

He hadn't missed Deadpool's use of 'belonged' though, the past tense. And he had to wonder why the DNA mattered if Deadpool was going to kill the guy. Because Deadpool was definitely going to kill him, and Peter, well...Peter wasn't going to stop him.

Deadpool proceeded to pull the guy's wallet out of his jeans, more jostling and screaming, flipped it open to take something out and when he was done he handed the man's driver's license to Peter, tossed the wallet over his shoulder so it hit the guy in the face and he placed his hands on his hips,

"They can match all the DNA up to his identity, nice and tidy." he stated, voice tight with anger, and then they looked at each other, mask to mask, for a moment before Peter snapped himself out of it and addressed his suit's AI function,
"Karen," he still called it, despite having reprogrammed the AI to be without a 'personality' when he'd designed his new suit to fight Mysterio, "locate the nearest hospital." he requested. He'd been in a hurry when designing the new suit and hadn't bothered to add 'Karen' to it, and then afterwards he just never bothered with it. EDITH was already one talking AI too many for his memories and heart to handle.

Deadpool tilted his head curiously as Peter made the request to seemingly no one, and Peter vaguely gestured to his head with his hand holding the license and muttered,

"AI." to which Deadpool's expressive mask made an 'Ah, I see' movement. As Peter waited for 'Karen' to bring up a map and fastest route, Deadpool pulled an old flip phone out of one of his many pouches, opened it and scrolled through something before holding it out for Peter to take.

"Call Dopinder to pick you up. He'll take you to the hospital." he said as Peter took the phone, holding the license card between his fingers as he glanced down to see Dopinder's name and a number on the old green and black screen.

"He'll come, if I say it's me?" Peter was skeptical, his voice sounding quiet, shaken and smaller than it had in ages. "Will he remember me?"

"Probably." Deadpool shrugged, unsheathing another knife from a holster around one hard, muscular thigh, "if he doesn't, then remind him. He'll come." he added surely, before he turned to face the mostly unconscious man still hanging from the katana's against the wall, "Now get that little lady out of this alley, Baby Boy," he clouted the man soundly across the face so that he became conscious again, gurgling and crying, "I'm gonna' make this dickbag cry me a nice bloody river." he glanced down to where he was standing in a puddle of blood, "I'd say he still has a few pints left in him." he added, voice darkly amused.

Deadpool wasn't even hiding his intentions, and Peter knew he should tell the man not to kill him, that it was wrong...but the thing was, just because Peter couldn't kill anyone himself, even truly evil people, didn't mean he wanted them to live. He was always justifying his choices by saying he wasn't the judge or juror of any other person's actions, so then...he wasn't the judge and juror of Deadpool's either. Peter didn't know why, but the decision to accept that Deadpool could do what he could not was easier made than he'd have thought it would be. He barely knew the man and yet he felt like he knew something important, something real, about him.

Yes, Peter was a hero, stopping crimes whenever he could and helping people on a daily basis, but Deadpool was a different kind of hero, for taking the ugly human sickness out of the world so that the good people could be safe and prosper.

As he walked slowly away with the girl, accommodating her lagging, uneven steps, Peter realized that subconsciously he'd always known that Deadpool was an executioner of bad people, from that first news report where he'd killed all those professional criminals. There'd been lots of collateral damage, but Deadpool's targets had been the bad guys. And then on Coney Island, that massacre had been on the news too if he recalled, and they'd also been criminals, and now this rapist. All bad, bad people.

So many years and Peter had always known in the back of his mind that he didn't think of Deadpool as a villain, especially not after they'd actually met.

So many...years.

He didn't want years to go by before he saw Deadpool….Wade, again, heck, he didn't want the next hour to go by before he saw him again. So Peter gently slowed and stopped walking, holding up the quietly sobbing girl and clutching Deadpool's burner phone in his other hand tightly as he looked back over his shoulder,

"Deadpool?" he said just audibly.

Deadpool had a handful of the rapist's hair in a tight gloved first and the knife in his other held in a precise manner that suggested he'd been about to make some sort of incision, but he paused and looked at Peter,

"Yeah, Baby Boy?" he asked, voice tight but cheery.

And Peter could have still taken the opportunity to say 'Don't kill him, they'll have his DNA, they'll find him here and lock him up', but instead he said,

"I'll let the hospital call the police," whereas usually he would have done it. And factoring in waiting for Dopinder to show up and getting to the emergency room – which Karen had said was ten minutes away by car-, his own speed when webbing back, and then choosing to exaggerate on account of Deadpool not knowing about the distance and time from there to the hospital, he added, "that gives you half an hour." and he didn't wait for a response before he turned again and continued to walk slowly out of the alley with the girl limping beside him.

All he'd needed to hear was Deadpool mutter something about making the time worth it, to affirm for him that he'd still be in that quiet alley getting his Jennifer Hill's Revenge -whatever that was- by the time Peter returned to find him there, in well under a half hour.

And Peter had every intention of hurrying back to find Deadpool.

He felt like they had something to say to one another, or at least he did. He had something to say.

He didn't even glance back to acknowledge the now weak screams of the rapist as they continued walking further away at a slow pace. He simply hit the dial button on the phone and raised it to his ear as the call went out to Dopinder.

Chapter Text

 ...in a mediocre way.

True enough, Dopinder remembered who he was the moment Peter said 'it's Spider-Man', the cab driver sounding very pleased but also very confused to hear from him before he asked for the pick up location and stated that he'd be there soon.

Five minutes later Peter and the girl were waiting a block from the scene of the crime. Peter felt tense, his stomach in knots, but he knew the girl was obviously feeling a thousand times worse than he could even imagine. He was about to ask her name, see if he could help calm her some by talking to her, when Dopinder showed up. He left skid marks behind him when he hit the breaks, coming off a high speed to pull up right beside where they stood on the curb, the sound of the screeching breaks echoing in the quiet streets. Peter barely had a moment to step toward the cab before Dopinder had jumped out and was coming around the front of the car, talking cheerily and with a confused smile about how he apparently hadn't heard from Deadpool since before the blip and that he was so excited to be in touch with one of Deadpool's friends again, since someone he called Weasel had been blocking him from trying to make contact with Deadpool.

And he likely would have gone on and on if Peter had been alone, but the moment Dopinder's eyes landed on the girl shaking and curled anxiously into Peter's side, the cab driver fell silent and he paled slightly, his face becoming the picture of sadness and concern before he was muttering an 'oh fuck' and telling Peter to get into the cab quickly, rushing back around the car.

Once in the cab Dopinder drove fast but thankfully not recklessly, almost as if he was mindful of the urgency but also of not wanting to scare the trembling girl in the backseat with Peter. He kept glancing with sadness and concern into the back via the rearview mirror. And Peter had no way of knowing whether Dopinder knew the extent of her injuries, but Peter was once again struck by how the friend of Deadpool, a known killer, was not some cliché, typical bad guy, but instead someone who seemed like a good guy who really was worried and really wanted to help.

The quick cab ride came to an end at the entrance to the emergency room of the nearest NYC health hospital in the Bronx, Dopinder stopping the car just shy of another loud screech. And Peter was surprised when Dopinder offered to take the girl inside without needing prompting or to be asked, almost as if he knew what a hassle it would be for Spider-Man to walk into a municipal hospital...almost as if he'd been in a similar situation before with someone who would draw to much attention by walking into a hospital wearing a full body suit. Maybe he'd taken people to the hospital for Deadpool often in the past? Maybe not always to a hospital even, like in the case of Peter many years ago.

Whatever the case, with his hands and stomach still shaking, mouth sandpaper dry, skin sweated and sticky under his suit from wasted adrenalin and stress, Peter was just really grateful to Dopinder for being so helpful, and he was grateful to Deadpool too…this time though, he wanted to have the opportunity to tell the other Super so personally. So as soon as he'd watched Dopinder help the girl inside the hospital, the cab driver having made no indication that he required payment for the trip, Peter took off at a running pace across the mostly empty parking lot and extended a hand to shoot a web out at the building across the street. Then he was off like a shot, heading back in the direction they'd come from. Back to where Deadpool should still be.

Even as he swung, jumped and leapt around, over and across buildings at high speed, he still felt anxious and oddly impatient. There was a tightness in his dry throat and a light sort of feeling in his stomach, and he was breathing deeply and rhythmically even as his heart pounded and he felt constantly on the verge of tears, his emotions running high and more noticeable to him now that he was alone.

He'd been so sure he'd become jaded enough that he could handle anything the ugly world threw at him, but with how rattled and unmoored he felt after what he'd just had to do...and then Deadpool, watching him be completely sure of himself and knowing just what had needed to be done, actually just seeing him and hearing his barely familiar voice, god, it had shaken Peter to his core.

Made him feel young again in the worst possible way.

It reminded him of the night when the Vulture had so easily and confidently beaten the shit out of him, uncaring of the fact Peter had been a kid, uncaring of Peter's inexperience…uncaring of how vulnerable and alone he had been while trying to be strong. He'd had no one to support him, but he'd come through it for the better, and it had shown him that he needed to fake that strength even when he didn't necessarily feel it. He'd learned that he needed to fake it until he truly felt that strength, until it became real, until he believed he could survive something no matter how much bigger than him it was, be it the villain or the situation.

And he'd thought he'd succeeded in believing he was strong, but after Titan, after the blip and the war and Tony's death…and then Mysterio.

Peter swallowed sorely around the thick lump in his throat as he neared his destination, clenching his teeth in anger and frustration. To this day he still hated thinking about how much he'd fucked up by trusting Beck, by thinking he'd made an instant friend, by subconsciously thinking at the time about how Deadpool – 'the bad guy'- had been trustworthy, so why wouldn't he have been able to trust Quintin? Quintin who had fooled him into believing he was hero, a man who'd lost his family and his world...all of it a complete damn lie.

Peter still sometimes lamented over the fact that his spider-sense had been on the fritz after the confusion of the blip, because he was sure that otherwise he would have felt the warning tingles light up his nervous system the moment he'd first met Beck. His spider-sense had definitely been working after he'd realized he had to be the one to stop Beck, lighting up like a fireworks display and honing down to fine tuning when he'd faced off against Beck and the drones in London.

Thinking about the past was only making him feel more anxious, his chest getting tighter with emotion, so Peter pushed all of those 'what if's' and 'maybes' out of his mind, because it was firmly in the past. Beck was dead and gone, and yeah, he'd damaged Peter's trust so badly that he'd had trouble forming proper or new friendships or relationships ever since. But with Deadpool; Deadpool was from before all that, and Deadpool had never even once set off Peter's spider-sense, not in the past and not even earlier that evening when he'd seen the man for only the second time in years. Even seeing the man strapped with several weapons and mutilating a rapist, Peter's spider-sense had been calm around Deadpool.

They were essentially strangers, they knew nothing about one another, had never even had a proper conversation, were on different sides of the law and yet…yet, it had been in front of Deadpool that night that Peter had gone from feeling the need to pretend he was strong and capable, to letting his guard down and showing that he had been vulnerable and all on his own. And Deadpool hadn't let him down, hadn't even had the inclination to do anything bad to him as far as Peter's senses had been able to tell, despite the man not having had a single reason to meet Peter's subconscious, childish expectations at the time.

Deadpool had never broken Peter's impulsively assigned trust, Deadpool was…

Deadpool was literally skipping his way along on a building rooftop, almost two blocks away from where Peter had just landed on the building beside the alley from earlier, the man steadily heading away from the direction of the hospital. Peter frowned, blinking a few times, his eye lenses opening and closing twitchily as they tended to do when his eyelid movement was too rapid and human for the robotics to keep up with, his chest squeezing tighter as he realized that despite how quickly he was back, he'd still almost missed seeing Deadpool again, properly.

The idea of not seeing the man again for years made some strange feeling of upset coil in his stomach. And even more so as he considered that maybe Deadpool had known how far the nearest hospital was, had known Peter had intended to come back, and so he was intentionally leaving the scene with so much time to spare in order to avoid Peter.

'Does he think I'm his enemy?' Peter wondered if maybe Deadpool thought it had all been a trick to get him to stay there and be caught red-handed by the police or SHIELD or something. The very idea of the other man thinking Spider-Man would betray Deadpool, when Deadpool had never betrayed Spider-Man, made Peter feel frustrated and agitated.

So he quickly took off after Deadpool, jumping across to the next building –pointedly ignoring looking down to where he knew a mutilated body would be lying dead in the alley- and then jumping down to the side of the building, sticking to the wall of the brick, he quickly began to crawl and leap along the building to catch up to Deadpool. He was trying not to be seen just yet in case Deadpool tried to run off or something. Peter had no idea how fast the guy was, he didn't want to risk losing him in a chase through the Bronx.

He was quicker with his spider leaps and crawling than Deadpool was presently running, skipping and parkouring along the rooftops, so it didn't take long for Peter to catch up, quickly getting close enough to hear that Deadpool was…singing.

He didn't really need to focus too hard to hear what Deadpool was singing, because despite the man not being too loud, it was pretty quiet in the residential-esque streets lined with low level flats and small businesses. So Peter found himself slowing down to the point where he was still hiding somewhat as he crawled and crept along the side of the building, just behind and out of sight of where Deadpool was currently half walking/dancing along the flat gravely rooftop.

"♪…like some baby Barbarella, with the stars as her umbrella, she asked me if I'd like to magnetize. Do I have to go star-trekking? 'Cause it's you I should be checking. ♪" Peter watched as Deadpool pointed finger guns in no particular direction as he walked and swayed his hips, "♪ So she laser beamed me with her cosmic eyes. ♪" the man sang along in a sort of constant falsetto, only dipping his voice lower here and there.

And since Peter's negative emotions were still all over the place, he was surprised to feel the urge to smile as he watched and listened to the dangerously armed, 6 foot something man, who was seemingly enjoying himself a whole heck of a lot, dancing a little more zealously as he falsettoed his way through what sounded like the chorus of whatever song he was singing.

Something about a cosmic girl.

"♪ I'm scanning all my radars, well, she said she's from a quasar, ♪" Deadpool did a tight 360 spin at this point, the gravel of the roof crunching under his boots, before he continued to walk and sing, "♪ forty thousand million light years away. ♪" And across the clear space of the rooftop now, Peter caught a glimpse of the music player in his hand, it looked like an older iPod model, from before the blip probably, and he could see no headphones, so Peter assumed Deadpool was using Bluetooth inner-ears under his mask.

"♪ It's a distant solar system, I tried to phone but they don't list 'em, so I asked her for a number all the same. ♪" he was fairly close to Deadpool now, only a few meters behind, so he crawled up onto the ledge, stood silently and started walking along the ledge as the man did a two-step sort of dance up ahead of him. And then when Deadpool's demeanor changed suddenly and he stopped walking, Peter abruptly stopping as well, eye lenses wide as he watched Deadpool affect a feminine air about him as he sang the next part in a faux girl's voice, "♪ She said, step in my transporter, so I can teleport ya', all around my heavenly body. ♪" concluding the moment by pressing his legs –knees and feet as well- close together and stroking his hands fleetingly over his torso and hips.

Peter felt the pleasantly amused laugh bubble up quickly and he couldn't even stop it before it was out of his mouth, so plainly audible that Deadpool heard it immediately and he whipped around and had a very large gun aimed at Peter so quickly that it wiped the smile under his masked face away immediately and he froze.

For the first time ever, his spider-sense flared up, but as quickly as it came on, it fizzled out, because Deadpool recognized him and was holstering his gun almost as quickly as he'd taken it out.

Peter's stomach flipped over and over anxiously at the abrupt rise and then fall of panic brought on by his spider-sense, and he felt nauseous all over again. He hadn't realized he'd raised his hands up, palms opened at shoulder height in surrender, until Deadpool started to hum the tune of the song he was listening to, as he casually started to approach Peter across the open distance between them.

Peter swallowed against his still warring emotions, most recently topped off with a moment of enjoyment and then fresh panic which was now tapering off into nervousness. He awkwardly dropped his hands and hopped off the ledge onto the roof proper, walking slowly to meet Deadpool halfway, and he really didn't know why, but there was no hesitation in his movements as he reached up and pulled his mask off.

Deadpool faltered though, several steps away, his humming cutting off when the mask came off, and Peter briefly wondered, concern flaring up again, if maybe he shouldn't have taken his mask off. If maybe Deadpool hadn't actually remembered what he looked like…

But then Deadpool was suddenly grinning beneath his very expressive mask, white eyes narrowing and spandex stretching over his jaw as he started singing,

"♪ Sends me into hyperspace, when I see his pretty face. Sends me into hyperspace, when I see his pretty face...♪" over and over to the songs rhythm, still in that oddly good falsetto as he closed the distance left between them, coming to stand so much taller and broader than Peter would ever be, only just two feet away.

And of course Peter noticed the new gender pronoun Deadpool was using in the song he'd previously been singing about a cosmic girl, and holy crap did his face heat up fast. He actually felt his skin prickle at how hotly he blushed, and he ducked his head so that some of his hair fell over his forehead in sweat-damp curls. His stomach also flipped over again, although in an entirely different and pleasant way this time, which Peter couldn't help but notice as being new to him.

He wanted to smile too, and it was really difficult to keep it to just a subtle twitching of his lips, directed down at the boots of their respective suits. Deadpool trailed off from singing then, his voice easing into a low, deep chuckle. The music cut off then as the taller man tapped a button on his iPod, the tune Peter had been able to hear now, up close as they were, that had been playing in Deadpool's Bluetooth earphones, was no longer audible.

So it was just the quiet between them, and it was really quiet, with only the natural sounds of very distant traffic, people in their apartments with their windows open, the light evening wind and sparse trees on the sidewalks. And all at once the seriousness of the night and all of those conflicting and complicated feelings came rushing back to Peter, his body was still so tense and his heart beat sounding loud in his still warm ears and he could still clearly recall the sound of the girl's sobs, playing over and over in the back of his mind, the sight of her…

…and of Deadpool, his steady voice and the feeling of his grounding hand and his sure directions as he helped both that girl and Peter get it together and get moving.

As he stared down at their feet, he couldn't help thinking back again to years ago, when Deadpool had sent him home safely...comparing it painfully to the betrayal of Beck and how the man had actively tried to kill him and all of his friends, remorselessly, so cold. A stark contrast to Deadpool who stood before him now and once again made Peter feel like he could be vulnerable and it'd be okay.

He didn't realize his eyes were wet until the sound of his own sniffing had him blinking so that the trapped moisture was felt on his eyelashes, threatening to wet his cheeks.

'Jesus Parker, don't be so pathetic.' he mentally scolded himself and was about to bring a hand up to roughly rub away his almost shed tears, but before he could, the cool, smooth tips of Deadpool's gloved fingers were lightly tapping up under his chin once, but without any pressure, for him to look up.

"Hey, you okay, Spidey?" he asked quietly.

At that question, Peter sniffed again, head still ducked down as his eyebrows drew together, realizing that he felt like he didn't have it in him to lie and say yes, but he didn't know whether Deadpool would appreciate him admitting to not being okay, to being anything but okay.

After all, they still barely knew one another.

"Spidey?" Deadpool tried again, sounding questioning, so Peter chose to give an unrelated answer, hoping to change the subject,

"Peter." the word barely made it out of his dry throat, so he cleared it and said again, "I'm Peter."

Deadpool didn't immediately respond, a drawn out moment of silence and another downward sniff from Peter passing, in which the older man shifted on his feet. Peter watched as the man's dirty, scuffed, blood-spattered boots moved a fraction against the gravel, the toe-ends just centimeters away from his own cleaner, smaller and narrower boots; another obvious contrast in their sizes.

Then Peter was pulled back from the spacy haze of exhausted sadness he was sinking into when Deadpool said,

"Alright then. Are you okay, Peter?" and the way he said Peter's name, as if it was a name he was glad to know, attached to a person he was fond of while somehow still sounding like it was the first special time he was saying it, made Peter raise his head and look up, first up at Deadpool's clavicle, which was eye level for him, and then after he swallowed thickly, he tipped his head back somewhat to look into the white eyes of Deadpool's mask.

He opened his mouth to say the expected 'yes' to Deadpool's question, but found that all words were stuck in his throat under the gaze of Deadpool's expressive mask, which clearly showed what appeared to be serious concern through the shape and the lines around his eyes.

Deadpool was a stranger to him and yet the man really seemed to care.

And Peter didn't want to be naïve and make another stupid mistake like he had with Beck, but the thought of Deadpool, who hadn't betrayed him or hurt in the first place, made it hard for him to believe that he would be making a mistake by trusting the man. But he was so scared to trust...because if he was wrong then people he cared about would get hurt again. And he'd already been stupid and given Deadpool his name! Dammit!

He felt panic well up in him quickly as he struggled silently with the fear that he was fucking up again, that somehow he was putting everyone he cared about in danger, all the while staring up into Deadpool's mask as his heart and head pounded but his spider-sense remained silent and…

…and…

…and then Deadpool's hands, large and sure, came up to settle on either of his shoulders as the man said,

"Take a breath, Baby Boy, you're looking real pale right now." in a quiet, calming tone, his hands big enough that his thumbs splayed so they were settled and shifting in idle strokes into the dip of Peter's throat and along his collar bones.

That touch, confusingly familiar and inappropriately intimate for two people who didn't even know one another, was not only grounding, but was also the furthest thing from unwelcome for Peter. Something about the touch broke through Peter's paranoia and the quickly stacking up fear of trusting and he felt the tension bleed from him, his whole body just leaning into the grounding presence of Deadpool.

He gave into the sad ache squeezing his chest, an ache that seemed ever present, but was more pronounced after the night he'd just had, and the next thing he knew he had his arms up and circling Deadpool's torso, hands splaying flat at the middle of the man's back as Peter stepped forward into the older man's personal space and pressed his forehead to Deadpool's chest. He clenched his eyes shut and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, determined at the very least that he wouldn't start crying.

His breath hitched though, painfully catching in his chest when Deadpool removed his hands from his shoulders, the man's body becoming stiff and inevitably…Deadpool didn't hug him back. Subconsciously Peter had known it would be like this. Aside from having always been bit of a hugger, ever since becoming Spider-Man he tended to want to make connections with other supers, to find someone to relate to who might understand what it was like. But whenever he'd tried in the past it had been imbalanced, because to all the supers he knew or had known, he was just a kid. And Beck hadn't even been a super, he'd just been an asshole, and even to him, Peter had been just a kid who he'd found easy to manipulate.

And now Peter was reaching for a connection with a friggen stranger. And it hurt to have it rejected, even though he'd known that it would be, because how could it not? It always would be…because he wasn't equal enough, or old enough, or serious enough and whatever else people found lacking in him. And he knew he had to let go of Deadpool, not just figuratively, but also literally.

His heart was pounding in his ears again, face hot with embarrassment where it was settled scarce inches from Deadpool's chest, his forehead sticky with sweat and stress where it was pressed against the spandex of the older man's suit.

"I'm s-sorry…" he breathed out through clenched teeth, eyes still tightly shut as he sniffed again, about to extract himself from the man's personal space, fully prepared to flee gracelessly at a running pace from this new humiliation. Just another shitty thing to add to the list after Beck making a fool of him and MJ deciding to bail on him and his issues and…

"You don't gotta' be sorry, you did what you could for that girl." Deadpool was speaking, his voice somehow much louder with Peter being face to chest with him. And Peter's eyes opened slowly before widening when he felt the shift and weight of Deadpool's arms coming up around his back and shoulders, pulling him those few inches closer so that Peter had to turn his face to be cheek to chest with Deadpool lest his nose get squashed. "You can never really make something that ugly any better, it is what it is, all you can do is help however you can..." Deadpool said, and then he kept talking.

He was saying more reassuring things, but Peter found the words being tuned out in favour of focusing on the steady, if somewhat faster than normal, thudding of Deadpool's heart inside the man's broad chest, beneath where Peter's ear was pressed…against firm muscle clad in tight spandex and leather, muscle that was surrounding him in the form of Deadpool's arms, his chest…

And then there was the length of their bodies pressed together; he could feel all the rest of Deadpool's front –thighs, abs, pouches, weapon straps and holsters-, the older man's masked mouth was gently leaned against Peter's head and hair, while the man's hands were firmly settled on one of Peter's shoulders and one of his flanks, in a way he was almost engulfing Peter due to their size and height difference.

There was just no space left between them like when Peter had unsurely and awkwardly hugged Deadpool, because the man had closed that gap when he'd returned Peter's hug. And it was very different than any hug Peter had had before, different in that it made him blush all over again for a different reason, even as his eyes slipped closed and his hands found the straps of Deadpool's sword holsters and clutched at them tightly.

His hugs with May, Tony, Ned, Happy, Pepper…none of them had ever been like this. Peter knew the difference clearly, and while he'd initially been going for that comforting, mostly superficial sort of embrace, an 'it'll be okay' hug, this, the way Deadpool and him were pressed close, this was not that kind of hug.

No…Peter wasn't actually being hugged, he was being held. And while those words sort of meant the same thing, the closeness and intimacy of the action itself varied greatly.

Even when he'd held MJ and she'd held him it hadn't felt this way for him, but Peter could only really figure that that was because MJ was not a 6 foot something wall of solid muscle…but wow, it felt…it felt…really nice. Really nice.

He'd sunken so comfortably into the man's arms; the warmth of him, feel of him, the lull of his voice and thud of his heart, the faint scent of cologne mixed with stronger smells of copper, leather and oiled metal, that it took Peter a while to resurface from the new pleasant haze. And when he did regain more awareness of himself, he realized that the lump in his throat was gone, the urge to cry abated, the tension in his body eased, the pounding in his head was absent…but he was still warm from a lingering blush, which he knew likely wouldn't go away as long as they were pressed close enough that his feet were between Deadpool's and he could feel the definition of the older man's ripped abdominal muscles against his sternum.

Spandex really was not very thick.

And that thought reminded him of how thin, tight and revealing his own suit was, and had him wondering how aware Deadpool was of it…after all, along with the other memories of his first encounter with Deadpool, he clearly recalled the man having indirectly mentioned being attracted to Spider-Man.

Peter hadn't been a man at the time though…but now-…

"Fuck, your hair smells nice." the absently spoken whisper from Deadpool had Peter's eyes popping open again and his face flushing a bright new shade of red. Peter found himself smiling slightly, despite trying to stop himself from grinning like a dope, and he mumbled,

"Thanks." his cheek still pressed against Deadpool's chest, "I can tell you what shampoo it is, if you want to try it?" and maybe it was ridiculous to say something like that in a moment that should be super awkward, but that was just it, Peter didn't feel awkward, because Deadpool was still holding him, was still breathing softly against Peter's hair through the mask.

Deadpool's reaction though, a quiet humorless laugh, made Peter frown, and then he was saying,

"Shampoo is wasted on me, Baby Boy." in a dismissive tone before he began to withdraw from the embrace. Peter let go too and stepped back, because he had to, because the…whatever that had been, had run its course and it had to come to an end. He ignored how the cool night air felt so crisp all along the front of his body as they stepped apart, and how a new sinking feeling settled in his stomach.

He had to wonder if this was more than just the end of a moment of closeness between them, or would he never see the man again. 'Shit, we didn't even talk about…anything.' and he'd been so pleasantly lost in being held close that he hadn't heard much of anything Deadpool had been saying to him.

He frowned, hating that he was like this, that he couldn't stay focused on important things, that he didn't pay enough attention to what was necessary, that his emotions still got the better of him, that-…

"You're too young to be frowning so much." Deadpool said with a sigh, and Peter went cross-eyed briefly when Deadpool tapped at the crease between his eyebrows.

"I'm not young." Peter blurted, and then tried to clarify, "I am young, I guess, but not…I mean…I was younger, you know, like too young, when we first met…but n-not…not anymore-…"

"Not too young, anymore, huh." Deadpool repeated and Peter stopped rambling, meeting Deadpool's masks eyes, "Not too young for what exactly?" the older man asked in a tone of voice that was all at once amused and very, very suggestive as he placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head. Peter's face had still been red from before and it was getting redder again now as his own words, and then Deadpool's response, sunk in.

And yeah, he'd done it again, hadn't focused on the important stuff, on having a real conversation with Deadpool. He had let what he was feeling and thinking – and what even was he thinking?!- lead him along and had word vomited his way into a situation he was 110% unsure of how to navigate.

What was he supposed to say now? Was this flirting? Would returned flirtation be received well? Did he know how to flirt? Did he want to flirt? Was Deadpool even serious or was he going to make fun of Peter if he tried to flirt? Did Deadpool even…

Deadpool.

Peter had been avoiding eye contact, awkwardly shifting his hands from his hips to pat against the outside of his thighs to rubbing his hand along his other forearm, to fidgeting with the mask he still held, but just when the last thought occurred to him, he looked up at Deadpool again and decided to ask,

"Your name is Wade, right?" since he'd never had it confirmed, having always personally vetoed asking any of the Avengers about Deadpool or hacking into SHIELD files to look the man up.

If the sudden change of subject bothered the man he didn't show it, instead he just nodded once and then took a step back before raising and lowering his hands while he took a short bow at the waist,

"Wade Wilson, the one, the only." he stood up straight again, having taken that step back now leaving more space between them, Peter couldn't help but notice. "But you knew that, right? Being an Avenger and all that." Deadpool gestured at Peter with a wave of his gloved hand.

"Well, yeah," Peter frowned and tipped his head before shaking it slightly, "or no, actually." Deadpool's, or rather Wade's, masked eyebrow rose and Peter tried to clarify, "Well, like, I did, I did know it was Wade, or I guessed as much after hearing you say it to Dopinder years ago, but, uh, I didn't know anything through the Avengers, cause like, I n-never told any of them that I even, that I even met you that night on Coney Island." he raised his eyebrows and shrugged as he looked at Wade.

The man just stared at him for a moment and then shrugged as well,

"Okay." in a skeptical way, like he didn't really understand Peter's life choices, and Peter couldn't be offended because he didn't understand most of his life choices either. "Still though," Wade affected a confused expression, "I thought for sure ol' Iron Dick would have given you a Deadpool blanket warning," Peter flinched at how Wade referred to Tony, "The whole 'stay away from that insane mercenary, he can't be trusted' spiel." he said it like it was amusing but the small chuckle that followed was hollow.

Peter's focus was elsewhere though, and took a split second to try to swallow down his disapproval, but he was still sore about his mentor kind-of-father-figure dying and so he said as firmly as he could,

"Don't insult Mister Stark, man. He was a hero." he frowned up a Deadpool, not unaware of the fact that he sounded more imploring than scolding.

Pathetic as he was, he'd just made what he hoped was a successful connection with another super, one who hopefully wouldn't kid-zone him, and he didn't want to ruin that by starting a disagreement.

Wade however, didn't even miss a beat over Peter's statement,

"Hell fucking yeah, he was a hero," he said enthusiastically, and then just as enthusiastically he added, "doesn't mean he wasn't a dick." he stated very matter of factly, like it was the plainest most obvious thing in the world.

And…really, when Peter thought about how many people had had a problem with Tony, and hadn't liked Tony's attitude, and had called him an arrogant asshole in the media and even to his face, if the stories Peter had been regaled with over the years by the other supers and heroes –told in good humor but no less true- were anything to judge by, then yeah, Tony probably fit that label pretty well. Heck, Peter had seen firsthand how Tony got off on the wrong foot with Doctor Strange straight off the bat.

Shit.

"Y-yeah, I guess I can't argue that." he conceded quietly to himself, although Wade definitely heard him because he airily said 'nobody can argue that', and then Peter's mind was backtracking and he recalled all of what Wade said,

"You're a mercenary?" he asked, tone pitching slightly with surprise. Wade raised an index finger,

"Uh, uh, not a mercenary, Petey. The Mercenary." he lowered his finger and raised his hands palm up as if presenting himself, "World class, every mark guaranteed, does not negotiate price or pound of flesh, the Merc with a Mouth, Deadpool." he completed his self-introduction, grinning under his mask as he lowered his hands again and then he tilted his head, "Why, what did you think I was?" he sounded genuinely curious to know.

Peter briefly averted his eyes, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his crumpled mask absently, as he considered that question, because he honestly hadn't before now. He'd never really known what to think of Deadpool, all he'd known was the man was a killer who seemed to kill only bad guys.

"I guess, uh, I guess I thought you were some kinda' vigilante." he concluded, looking at Wade again with a confused frown, not sure whether or not finding out the man was a contract killer upset him or not.

Wade made a sound that suggested 'vigilante' wasn't entirely wrong,

"Kinda-sorta-maybe there's something vigilante-esque about what I do." he suggested, tone light and amused, "I mean, I only fuck up and unalive the worst of the fucking worst cocksucking, dirtbag criminals around, keeping the streets a little cleaner by taking out all the world's worst. The sort of villains that fancy-pants, highbrow heroes won't touch and that the law can't touch." he leaned down and a little closer to Peter, who was watching and listening intently to him, "Essentially, sweetums, I do the dirty work; the ugly stuff that heroes and the law can't get to because of all that public image, corruption and red tape bullshit." he brought his hands up, using the index fingers and thumbs on both hands to make a box shape in front of Peter's face, "Hero types, like yourself, the Avengers, the Fantastic Few, the X-people, yada yada, you all operate in a box." he dropped his hands again and turned away from Peter, moving his hands as he continued to talk, "Once every few years the Avengers and/or company save the planet, save billions of people, or in a once off especially out of this world case, trillions. They make a big splash, reestablish their herdodom and so on, you get it, right, that sort of thing," he waved his hands and then turned around again, "the really big stuff. While day in and day out, thousands of people, thousands of kids, women and men, are trafficked for sex, slavery, drugs, genetic experimentation." Peter noticed the darker tone that was lacing Deadpool's words as he went on, a tone that was rather distinctively intimidating, "Not to mention how often I come across shit just like what happened earlier." even through the mask Peter could tell that Wade's jaw was tightly clenched, but his tone was still trying for light and amused when he finished with, "Heh, I tried the hero gig for a very short while Spidey, but it just wasn't for me."

Peter had watched him silently, absorbing Wade's words, but it wasn't difficult to take in the information considering he'd been thinking along similar lines about Deadpool earlier that evening when the man had been dealing with that rapist.

Deadpool took in a deep breath when he was done and then let it out, somehow easily shaking off the darker atmosphere that had descended before he smiled beneath his mask again,

"Anyway, the only difference between me and a vigilante is that I get paid to do what I do."

That made sense, still though...Peter glanced down at the rooftop gravel, frowning slightly as he asked,

"Earlier…was that, was that rape- that uh, that guy, a m-mark?" because that would mean Deadpool hadn't just happened by like Peter had, and if no one had paid Deadpool to be there, then both of them would have been too late. Later than they already had been.

"That cuntbag? Hah!" he laughed out loud and rather theatrically, "No, no no, Petey, that shitswizzle was just in the wrong place for him, at the right fucking time for me." he clarified with gleeful and harsh punctuation. And Peter instantly felt better knowing that it hadn't been just a job; knowing that Deadpool would help someone whether or not he was getting paid for it.

That meant something to him. Strangely, it meant a whole lot of something to him.

He nodded unconsciously, smiling slightly even as he felt pain in his chest all over again for that poor girl,

"I'm glad you were there, because…" he paused, took a quiet breath, "...because I wouldn't, I would have been too late, and if you hadn't…th-then she…" his throat was tightening up again and he ducked his head, "…and then how you handled it, I…I didn't do so great t-tonight…"

God, he really needed to get his shit together. He had to wonder if it was something about being around Wade that made him feel like he could be a sobbing loser and get away with it. What the actual hell?!

The emotion in his voice and tension returning to his shoulders brought Wade closer again though, and it was weird how that detail made Peter feel better. Feel relieved.

"Hey, come on now, Baby Boy, like I said before, you can only do what you can, when you can, as best as you can, and the rest of the time life will royally fuck you even for your best efforts." Peter heard him say that now, but he hadn't heard him say it earlier, because Wade had been holding him and his brain had been focused on and cataloguing other things. "And I know it ain't a Captain America-like pep talk, but I prefer to do real talk because all that sugar coating only fucks shit up worse, you know. There's not much good in knowing how to be prepared for what's up shit creak when someone keeps telling you about some silver fucking lining because, Baby Boy, ain't nothing any other colour than brown when you're up shit creak." he said emphatically, "And not the rich, sweet chocolate brown like your pretty hair, no, that nasty brown, like the disgusting deluge of sewerage that comes out of those porta potty's after a three day music festival."

Peter didn't even know how to respond to all that other than with a half laugh-half sob, looking up at Wade to where the man was standing closer again, quiet now, and watching him. Just watching him. Peter suddenly wished that he could see Wade's eyes…his whole face actually, wished that he'd take that mask off, that'd he'd let Peter see him the same way he was seeing Peter.

He was about to ask Wade about taking his mask off when the man, looking intently into Peter's face with that same concerned expression, started talking again,

"Holy-fucking-batballs, how are you so fucking pretty when you look like you're about to cry. I know for fact that ain't a kink of mine, but Jesus Christ..." he said in a confused and amazed whisper, and then shaking his head once as if to clear it, he added in a quiet but serious tone, "I really, really don't want you to cry though, Baby Boy, contrary to how confused my libido is right now." he sounded sincere enough about that, "What can I do? You want me to hold you again?" Deadpool's masked face looked both hopeful and distressed and Peter just stared up at him, face growing hot again and his mouth falling open in astonishment as the man went on, "Because, not gonna lie, I abso-fucking-lutely would not mind that because hot-dayum, it felt good, but full disclosure, you check all my boxes Spidey; pretty brown hair and eyes, perfect ass and a tight body," he emphasized that last part very specifically as he looked over the length of Peter with zero subtlety before tipping his head back and looking up at the sky, cursing softly. Then he was back, looking down at Peter as he said, "And with all of that on top of the fact that you declared you're old enough now, and that alone got me more than halfway to horny, I'll definitely get a boner if you press that body up against me again." he paused only very briefly, "So, where does that leave us on the 'should I hold you again' idea?" he frowned questioningly through the mask.

He had seemingly concluded...finally, and Peter was…wow, Peter's face felt hotter than ever and he knew he was redder than a tomato, a glowing tomato. He was horrifyingly unprepared for all that, while also feeling flattered and weightless in his tummy at Wade's blatant compliments and admission of that attraction Peter had always suspected him of having, and the whole thing, the whole moment was so unbelievable…that all Peter could do was blink up at the man a few times before cracking a nervous, frowning smile, stunned and feeling amused disbelief,

"Uh…that's…" he managed, as he awkwardly made an aborted motion to touch his sweat damp, untidy nest of hair with his free hand, wondering what on earth was pretty about his plain, unruly brown hair, or his eyes for that matter. Heck, they weren't even hazel brown, they were just brown-brown. As for his ass…?

Deadpool's mouth had dropped open beneath his mask and he was just staring down at Peter while Peter looked up at him between glances around, and after a beat of no other words being forthcoming Wade's hand came up and very barely touched Peter's face, even as his thumb ghosted without actual contact along the curve of Peter's lingering smile.

He'd even forgotten that he was smiling.

Wade nodded to himself then, saying softly,

"Yep, a smile is definitely, definitely better than tears. Pretty as a picture." and Peter's heart thudded sorely in his chest, his smile becoming insecure and shy at those words because what was he supposed to say to that.

Peter blinked his gaze away from the man's white mask eyes to his masked mouth and then dropped his gaze to Wade's chest as he tried to figure out how to respond. A part of Peter could barely believe what had just been said to him, any of it, and another inexperienced and never before considered part of him wished he knew what he should say in return, wished he knew how to react to what Wade had been saying. Wished he knew how to do that…positively, encouragingly. Because for all that he'd never been on the receiving end of such blatant attention, and never in any way at all from another man, had never even considered another man in the way Wade clearly considered him, Peter could be honest enough with himself to admit that he didn't mind it. Wasn't bothered by it. He liked how he had butterflies in his stomach for the first time since getting together with MJ in high school.

He didn't even mind the adjective 'pretty' that Wade had said several times now in reference to him. MJ had called him pretty a few times over the years, too. Phrases like 'you done making yourself look pretty?' and 'hurry your pretty ass up, we're gonna be late', but he'd always thought she was joking with that word. Using it just for the sake of using it. Just like when people called him a 'pretty boy' on rare occasion in high school, at university or in passing, it was usually intended somewhat negatively or at least not as a compliment. But each time Wade said it…he sounded like he really thought so.

And hey, pretty was just a frillier word for good looking, right? The only person who had ever called him handsome and good looking was May, which wasn't really saying much. He hoped Wade meant it like that though, as in he thought Peter was good looking. He hoped…he hoped Wade really thought he was attractive, specifically that Wade was attracted to him.

He wanted that, he realized abruptly; he wanted Wade to like him like that.

Peter didn't know why, or where the feelings were coming from, but he knew it meant that he liked Wade like that. That was kind of how both of his crushes had started, Liz and MJ; a sudden realization that he liked them…followed by his awful, awkward, stilted attempts at asking them out.

God, he did not want it to be that way with Wade.

If he liked Wade, which yeah, he was really sure he did, or he probably would have been offended by all the man's forward comments and attention by this point, then it had to be different. It couldn't take a year, like it had with Liz, or several near death experiences and misunderstandings like it had with MJ, he just had to…

Snap

He had to…

Snap

"…ete, you okay? You still with me?" Wade was snapping his fingers, trying to get his attention.

'Shit, I have to quite spacing out like that.' he thought, feeling frustrated as he nodded at Wade,

"Yeah, sorry, I'm just…super, s-super tired."

Wade half shrugged, half nodded,

"Yeah, it's super fucking late," he tipped his head "or early; either way, sweet dreams and unicorns await." he laughed softly, and was about to say something else but Peter had to say something first, he had to be a little bolder; he had to stop stopping himself from doing things.

He had to make the first big move for once in his life.

"Yeah, s'late,. And so, hey, you, uh…will you, you know…" Wade was listening, he was listening like Peter was going to say something important and suddenly Peter felt leagues away from the confidence he'd mentally built up a moment earlier, so he made sounds of aborted attempts as if he were still a bumbling teenager, "…uha, um, so-hm, its, er," and then finally settled on a very general and very platonic sounding, "will I, will I see you, a-around, again, around again, the city. Around the city again?"

'Uuuugh' he mentally groaned, because what even was that?

He was just grateful this wasn't high school or university where the answer would be an obvious yes and he'd look like a total dumbass. New York was massive, so that question wasn't the worst -completely not what he wanted to say- thing that he could have said. Jeez, he was an idiot. How was he still so bad at this? Although, it's not like he had much practice.

Peter stopped mentally spazzing long enough to realize that Wade was just staring at him, mask unreadable. And the while Peter had been feeling better about the evening, actually not feeling so shitty about everything that had happened, the quiet stare Wade was giving him now was starting to make him feel like something was wrong again.

His spider-sense was still completely calm though. So he just had no idea-

"You want that?" Wade asked curiously, "You actually want to see me again?"

Peter frowned at the question, but he could understand why Wade was asking in that tone of confusion. After all, Peter knew there were plenty of reasons why Spider-Man shouldn't want to be around a very armed, very dangerous mercenary who was very much on the wrong side of the law that he tried to live by and represent personally and through the Avengers.

But none of that felt like it mattered when what he had experienced and witnessed of Deadpool painted the picture of a man who had the potential to be hero, but who was still doing really well as a kind of anti-hero. The world needed different kinds of heroes at the end of the day. Deadpool was just a different kind of hero as far as Peter was concerned.

And yeah, Peter had made a lot of mistakes and shitty choices, but the decision he'd made to keep meeting Deadpool a secret years ago was one of the very, very few things it turned out hadn't been a mistake for him, and he wanted it to mean something.

He wanted a connection that he could trust.

Plus, well, he'd totally developed a super-fast crush on a guy for the first time, and he wanted that experience too. Surely he could have this one thing? It'd been a while since he'd taken a chance on something, on someone? And he wanted it to be okay and safe and trustworthy for once…maybe he even needed it, he definitely needed it.

"Y-yeah, I do, Wade, I…" he swallowed thickly and felt his barely cooled ears heat up again as he prepared to say I like you. But then the sound of police sirens could be heard faintly in the distance but getting louder quickly. Peter looked in the direction of the sirens but then whipped his head back to Wade when the man announced,

"Weeeell, that's my queue to jet, Spidey. You should too actually; can't have Spider-Man be seen anywhere near the mess I left back there." he was laugh-talking and Peter looked to the direction of the alley from earlier with a dubious glance when Wade said, "All the kings horses, men and their baby mama's are not going to be able to put that shitstain back together, hooo boy!" he sounded quite gleeful about that.

Peter knew he should have been more disturbed about what Wade had just said, but really, he'd kind of expected as much after what he'd seen of the news years ago on the Expressway and Coney Island. Also, he was completely distracted by the fact that Wade was already walking away toward the fire escape ladder at the edge of the building several meters away.

There had been no decision made to see one another again and Peter really hated the idea that he wouldn't see Wade for years again. It made his stomach feel heavy with disappointment and dread. He bit his lip and took a half a step forward, chest rising with the breath he intended to use to call Wade back, to ask about meeting up, but his enhanced hearing made the sirens sound even louder and he could now hear people gathering in the street down below...and Wade's retreating figure was all the way across the building now.

His chest deflated and he exhaled loudly, all the weight that had been suspended during his time with Wade settling heavily again into his body. He swallowed sorely and pursed his lips as he looked down at his mask. Slowly he turned it over in his hands so he could put it back on the right way, and with his jaw clenched he muttered to himself,

"Probably didn't want to see me again…m'older, sure, but m'still just a kid." he huffed irritably, eyes burning and chest hurting. With a final sigh and sniff, Peter pulled his mask on and walked a few steps before breaking into a run and jumping onto the next building, seeing the taller buildings in the distance where he could start webbing his way back through Manhattan and toward Queens.

Chapter Text

...every new layer you uncover reveals something else you hate.

He didn't cry when he got home, but it was a near thing as everything that happened that night came rushing back to him. The awful events from before his post-crime conversation with Wade started playing in his mind like a film reel not even five minutes after he was alone inside his quiet apartment.

It was bad, it always was in that muted way things became after being exposed to it enough, but since he didn't want to think about Deadpool and the unspoken rejection, he welcomed feeling the usual emotional pain rather than the new. However, it proved impossible not to be reminded of Deadpool when, after he pulled off his mask in front of the large mirror in the bright lighting of his bathroom, he saw a smear of dried blood under his chin…from where Wade had touched his face just once and very briefly.

After noticing that, the rest of the blood on his suit became glaringly obvious and his breath left his lungs in a rush as he looked down at himself, hands rising away from his sides, his mask slipping from his fingers to land on the floor. The front of his suit had dark stains and smears on the fabric, and as he turned side to side looking at his reflection again, he saw that his left shoulder and right flank had bloody partial handprints. The blood was in all the places where he'd been pressed up against Wade when…when Wade had held him.

Breathing slightly escalated, the tears did come then, Peter abruptly hitting the spider symbol on his chest to loosen his suit before he quickly yanked it down and off and stepped out of it, kicking it away from himself into the corner of the bathroom. He couldn't deal with that right then; he couldn't deal with washing a dead rapist's blood out of his suit. Jesus, it was on his face too!

He rushed into the shower next, blasting himself with mostly hot water and proceeding to scrub at his face and hair first with his liquid body soap, washing away the tears absently slipping out of his eyes. After more washing than necessary, he moved on to wash his body but his mind was still playing the evening back, and the scent of the liquid soap was no match for the strength of his sense memory, which chose that moment to remind him of the sharp smell of copper that had been present when he and Wade had been pressed together.

Peter had overlooked it at the time because he'd been trying to focus on the faded scent of cologne on leather, which he could also recall quite clearly...and right then his senses were confusing his body, and he felt both nauseous and warm all over –in a way that had nothing to do with the hot water. Just thinking about Wade and all of the conflicting feelings he had about the man made him feel uncertain and stressed, and yet still interested. Because it had felt so nice to be held by him, so personal and enveloping and...and just more than any other hug Peter had had before.

But the blood, ugh. And knowing how it had gotten all over Wade. Double ugh! And knowing whose blood it was, triple uuuugh!

He couldn't help washing himself everywhere twice more for good measure, and by the time he was finally down, he was super exhausted, a little dizzy from the too-hot water and just overall feeling shitty. He stumbled out of the bathroom and managed to dry off and dress himself, and mentally resolving to deal with his suit much, much later, he went ahead and collapsed onto his bed, curling up around the first pillow he could grab and waiting for exhaustion to take him.

And if he cried a little more on the way to sleep, well, no one would know.

It wasn't like it was the first time.

Wade was used to his own company.

In the five-year aftermath of the snap, he'd become very accustomed to the sound of his own voice, more so than he had been before when he'd used to run his mouth at everyone else, but instead he got used to talking to just himself, which had been as satisfactory as it was unsettling most of the time.

He'd also gotten used to staying at home for days or weeks on end, only going out once in a while when he needed something, or taking a job where he was gone for weeks or months at a time. He got used to returning home to NY where nothing awaited him other than a fat stack of cash and maybe a quick on-the-house drink at Hellhouse from Patch for 'not fucking up'. After which, he'd return to whatever empty shithole apartment he was freestyling in at the time, he'd maybe order some take-out, watch television or pornography too loudly. If his mind wasn't too chaotic and he was able to get it up, he'd masturbate –sometimes two or three times if it'd been a while and he felt like it-, and then he'd either be able to fall asleep or he'd blow his brains out, because that was always an effective way to kill some time…haha, get it? Kill some time.

Yeah, so anyway, that had become routine for him.

He hadn't had friends, he hadn't tried to make any either after the snap, and outside of his head and his privacy, he'd honestly began failing at living up to his moniker of 'merc with a mouth'; not counting the amount of trash he talked when he was killing some sorry, shitstain mark of course. But nah, he hadn't wanted to talk, and he hadn't wanted to take his mask off around anyone and force himself to pretend like he was okay with it either. He'd rarely ever looked at himself in mirrors when he'd been with Vanessa post-pizzaface makeover, but during the snap? All mirrors in his personal space were either removed or covered before he'd have the chance to smash them when he got pissed off. Or they'd end up smashed before he could cover them. And even though he'd managed to masturbate sometimes, for the most part he hadn't even wanted to more often than not. But it had been his preferred method of release, pretty much ever since after Vanessa died, because the alternative required there being another human being present, and aside from how soliciting sex usually didn't work out well for him, Wade hadn't actually wanted to be touched.

And not wanting to be touched was a feeling that still remained, six years and some change later.

He wasn't sure if it was psychosomatic or some other mental fuck up in his brain, but for some reason, it hurt to be touched. And not hurt like 'oh, this asshole bad guy just shot me, ow', or 'shit, I'm on fire', no, it hurt like…like when you have a really bad flu case, and it hurts just to touch the surface of your skin; that kind of hurt.

Wade hadn't had the fucking flu in years though, and he couldn't get the flu even if he actively went out and tried to catch it, but he remembered it...not from himself after so long, but mostly from when Vanessa used to get the flu and complain about her body and skin aching. She'd never wanted to be touched when she was sick, but of course, she was so fucking hot, Wade couldn't even feel guilty for having tried anyway. Vanessa had never really gotten angry with his attempts at copping a feel when she was fluish, as long as he'd make up for it by doting on her until she was all better. And also because she usually punched him for trying. Being punched had been worth trying to grope Vanessa though, always.

And once she'd gotten better, they'd have sex. All the sex.

But in the past six years and to the present day, whenever Wade thought of sex, he generally cringed away from the idea. See, when he'd been with Vanessa, his skin had never hurt in any way other than the whole 'perpetual cancer' thing, which had been background noise for the most part since he'd been living with it for so long already. And he'd always enjoyed sex with her, or any kind of intimacy really, he'd never not wanted her hands on him or his hands on her, or to be in one another's arms. He'd always wanted to be close to her, closer than close.

Then she'd died…and he'd been way, way, way, way down. Then Colossus had harassed the fuck out him until he'd kind of-sort-of but not really gotten his shit together. But that harassment had been the catalyst for actually getting his shit together. Then the snap happened, and he'd been way, way, waaaaaay down again. He'd hit depression on a whole new level because not just Vanessa that time, but everyone, had just been gone, everyone except him by some super fucked up twist of fate.

It had been a dark, bloody, suicidal and blur filled five years.

It had been mentally and emotionally trying. Pushing him to the limit of hate for his seemingly immortal existence. It had made him wish he had a hundred more Francis' to kill for doing what he did to him. For making it so that he had to live and live and live through and with so much pain and emptiness...

Then all of a sudden, as if he and other people hadn't been left in a terrible limbo after the snap, everyone came back. And while he'd tried to, he just hadn't been able to reconcile quite so easily.

But as you already know, he'd tried his best. Hid away for a year to try and get his head straight, managed to an extent, while failing where it really counted, but still able to fake it in order to make it, and he'd emerged a version of himself that was somewhat socially acceptable. He still often wanted to strangle everyone, or most people anyway, and he often wanted to blow shit up, cut shit in half, break shit down, but those frustrations he managed by taking as many jobs as he could. The differences in who and how he was had affected his relationships with people from before the snap though.

And in the end, it was still his own company he was most accustomed to and preferred.

So now, Wade still had a similar routine.

He still didn't have anyone to come back home to. Sure, his apartment was nicer and cleaner, and he didn't live like a hobo anymore, and he went out regularly for groceries and other items that he'd previously used to buy online. He took better care of himself physically, and over all basically stopped being a gross shut-in. And he talked more again to other people these days, a lot of the time he talked just to fill in silences he'd didn't want to bare, or when he just really didn't want to listen to what someone else had to say.

But he still mostly wanted to be alone, he still preferred to watch TV for hours or play video games or clean his stockpile of weapons while he played too loud music and sang along just as loudly and off-key. He still had a blood-lust the likes of which was more intense than it had ever been since he'd killed Francis. He still opted to masturbate instead of seeking out sex workers…and not even because of the fear of rejection, nope, it was because he still didn't want to be touched.

It had been too long to know if it'd still hurt for someone to touch his skin, but Wade knew from the passing shoulder pats by other mercs and from bumping into people in the now crowded streets or down at Hellhouse, that his skin crawled ten times worse when someone made contact with him.

And it had felt uncomfortable as fuck when Dom had hugged him so long ago, and that had been the last close friendly contact that Wade had had with anyone…

...until Spider-Man.

Or rather, Peter.

From the moment the kid…no, wait, not kid. He wasn't a kid anymore. From the moment Spider-Man had shown up on the scene in that alleyway, he'd kept Wade near constantly surprised and confused. First, because he hadn't jumped straight into physically subduing Wade with either his webs or a superhuman strength beat down, seeing as how Deadpool was, by all general counts, known as a 'bad guy'. Then Spider-Man had gone on to freeze up with uncertainty when dealing with the assault victim. That had surprised Wade, because for fuck sakes, he was Spider-Man and this was New fucking York, rape cases were definitely something the guy would have to have come across previously, right? It had confused Wade like crazy, but he'd handled the situation as he usually would, albeit with a superhero in the mix.

And then Spider-Man had proceeded to shock him again when he left Wade there to kill the motherfucker who'd assaulted that girl, even after Wade had made it crystal-shiny fucking clear that he was indeed going to kill the asshole. And oh did he ever. The forensics team that got that shitshow to deal with were going to have a bad time when they discovered all of that guy's missing parts were in new and interesting places.

After that little art project and with Spidey gone off to the nearest hospital with the vic, Wade had figured himself safe to make a casual getaway. The Avengers hadn't shown up, nor had any kind of law enforcement, which meant Spider-Man hadn't lied to him and decided to call the police sooner rather than later, so that they could have tried to catch him with the rapist's pants down –and dick missing. He'd been feeling pretty upbeat about the evening's events, after all, he did love killing rapists, and yeah, seeing Spidey properly and not just swinging overhead had really been something.

And not just something hella sexy – although damn that suit was tight and so was that body- but the unexpected appearance had also made him feel something almost happy, dare he call it. He didn't have a lot of good feelings these days. He had good days sure, because getting his hands on new weapons always left him feeling good, and getting a pay day too, those were good feeling moments. Watching Golden Girls still held up too, mind you. But happiness itself? Nah, that had become a foreign concept, happiness in his life was about as long gone as Vanessa was.

The last time he'd felt happy, like really happy, had been the day he'd come home to find out that Vanessa wanted to have a baby with him. Everything 'good' since then had been below that bar, way below it, because of course it would be.

Seeing Spidey though, after so many years since that coincidental meeting on Coney Island, he'd felt the first flicker of happiness in forever. It hadn't been happiness like anything with Vanessa, because that had been a whole different thing compared to whatever kind of acquaintance he had with Spider-Man, but it'd been some kind of happiness all the same.

And he'd been fine to walk away with that feeling, just fine, but then Spider-Man had come after him, and not after him to apprehend him like a superhero should have, but came after him to…to what?

Wade still didn't know, all he did know was that when Spidey took his mask off without hesitation and underneath it he'd looked like a hot mess who had clearly matured with age - judging by the lack of teenage softness in his face that had been present the first time Wade saw him, his jawline and cheek bones more defined and sharp now, and his eyes not so bright and innocent anymore–, Wade had momentarily forgotten how to breathe.

He could still recall feeling gross and devastated when having seen just how cute Spider-Man was had happened in the same moment he'd found out that the superhero had been a minor. But seeing how much more attractive he was now that he was an adult, Wade had had to bite back an inappropriate sound of approval.

And then to top it all off, Spider-Man…Peter, had latched onto him, had physically, like, with his body and arms, he'd hugged Wade, embraced him! Had apparently wanted to be close to him of all people for some kind of comfort. And Wade had been completely fucking floored. But when the surprise had worn off, something else had become more apparent to him, and that was the distinct lack of aversion he'd felt to being touched in that moment.

Noticing it; noticing that he didn't mind Peter being so close to him, touching him, he'd let out a silent breath and when he'd heard Spider-Man apologize to him, he'd let himself give in and he had wrapped the wall-crawler's lean, slight body in his arms completely. He'd pulled him in and pressed him close, all the way close, close in a way he hadn't held anyone since Vanessa, murmuring words to hopefully ease the younger man's distress while allowing himself to enjoy holding someone for the first time in years; holding Spider-Man for the first time ever. And it had felt good, no actually, better than good, more so even when Peter had leaned into it, had become pliant and yielding to Wade's hold, like he'd really wanted to be there.

No pretenses or complicated history between them. And nothing like when Dom had hugged him just because they'd known each other for years and hadn't seen each other in a while and it was a done thing for people to do, despite the fact that they'd never been particularly huggy before the blip.

And maybe that had been the difference, the fact that Peter had wanted Wade to hold and comfort him, because no one besides Vanessa had ever wanted to be physically close to him, touched by him or held by him, not in a friendly or non-platonic way, not since he became Deadpool. And even before the blip, none of the superficial pseudo-affection he'd expressed toward Al, or the exaggerated borderline sexual tactility he'd dole out to Colossus, had been anything other than forced and uneasily reciprocated or just barely tolerated. And of course, before he'd given up on prostitutes, even the ones who hadn't rejected him had preferred that he keep the suit on, minimize all touching and do them from behind to spare them.

So, the difference of Spider-Man wanting to be in his arms, it was obviously a significant factor to how Wade received the contact, it changed everything about it. Or at least that's what he figured when trying to make sense of it.

And yeah, maybe Spider-Man had only found comfort in him because he had no one else at that moment...or in general? That last one was a sad thought...

But whatever the case, it had been nice to feel another body pressed against his and to not feel his skin crawl with discomfort...especially a body like Spider-Man's, all that lean, tight muscle encased in skintight spandex which clung to the cut of his defined musculature, highlighting the lines of sinew and bone, hugging every curve and dip and the rise of that incredibly shapely ass. An ass that Wade had easily seen from his much taller vantage point, looking down past the breadth of Spidey's shoulders in his arms, and the smooth incline of his back to that very, very gropeable butt.

Shit. Wade had found himself wishing he could have touched just as much as he'd wished he hadn't been wearing his mask so he could have felt the softness of Spider-Man's hair against his face. And holy fuck, he'd smelled good too! He'd even said so, hadn't been able to help saying it, and Spider-Man had laughed so softly; he'd been so okay with it all.

Wade had forgotten what all of that had felt like until Spider-Man had brought it all rushing back, and unfortunately, he'd been begun to get too into it after years without touch, i.e. he'd entered potential 'boner territory'. He counted himself lucky Spider-Man had commented on sharing his shampoo choice just when he'd started getting aroused, because it had internally jolted Wade back to reality.

The reality in which he didn't have any hair, and in which he looked like Freddy fucking Kruger under his suit. The reality in which Spider-Man possibly didn't know any of that, and that was probably why he didn't mind being so close, because the younger super probably thought Wade was normal, and not a gross looking freak? Why else, right?

He'd separated himself from Spider-Man as calmly as possible at the time, and the conversation that followed had been somewhat of a rambling, frustrated blur. He'd wanted to just leave because after feeling something more than hollow complacency for the first time in ages, and then being slammed facedown back into reality, he'd gotten a little edgy and his thoughts had meandered toward suicidal. But Spidey had been talking to him, and for whatever reason Wade had felt that was important somehow and he'd stuck around.

Then Spidey had looked closed to tears and Wade had panicked, his mind racing with jumbled feelings of concern, guilt, arousal and protectiveness and it had made him start running his mouth, but that only lasted so long before Spider-Man had said he wanted to see Wade again and suddenly words had failed the famed Merc With A Mouth. After that he'd taken the first opportunity to get the fuck gone, which had come in the form of police sirens. Wade had never imagined he'd be happy to hear that sound!

And he'd known Spider-Man had wanted a response from him, it had been written all over his face, and he'd felt the younger super's eyes on him the entire time as he'd made his way across the rooftop as fast as he could without actually running...but Wade couldn't face that.

Literally.

Because even if Spider-Man was serious about seeing him again, which implied getting to know one another, all that would eventually entail would be Peter wanting Wade to de-mask. And that would be the end of whatever little sweet spot he was currently in where Spider-Man actually seemed to like him, seemed to want to be close to him for whatever reason. And if by some miracle his appearance didn't fuck him over, the rest of his fucked up life would do it. Spider-Man would never be ready for what Deadpool was. That shit just wouldn't line up no way, no how.

So, he'd made his getaway, wanting to keep that happy feeling, fleeting though it probably would be. And he didn't want to taint it with all that ugly reality of what was under his suit, or what his life was like, he didn't want to let Spider-Man know how fucked up he actually was.

By that reasoning, he'd decided it was best that he and Spider-man only saw one another once every few years, and for a short time too, since being as he was immortal, Wade had all the time in the fucking universe to get the rare fix of Spider-Man for however long that lasted.

Maybe though, he'd already fucked it up by leaving Spidey without an answer after a rough night and an unfinished, confusing conversation, but Spidey was young, and so, so pretty, so he'd be fine. He'd meet people who would want to be his friends or lovers and he'd fill his life in a way Wade would never be able to. And that was better.

Spider-Man had the Avengers anyway, and Peter probably had people, too.

And Deadpool? Well, Deadpool was Wade and vice versa, there was no escaping that. And what did he have? He had a special six shooter Magnum waiting for him at the end of every day if he needed it, reliable and committed to him. It had been a while since Wade felt self-loathing and empty enough inside to blow his brains out, but after that night of holding Spider-Man and wanting more, he hadn't hesitated to eat a bullet.

It was almost three months later before Wade caught sight of Spider-Man in real time again.

There was an explosion at an oil refinery in upper Brooklyn, and as it tended to happen, the biggest concern was the aftermath, after everyone was safely –or not so safely- evacuated, and it was time to try to put the massive fire out and prevent another explosion from happening and yada yada.

Wade, not really one for jumping into the fray when it wasn't necessary, especially when there were numerous people of law enforcement, the fire department, ambulances, and media around, he kept his distance at least two miles out, sitting on a mid-height building, leaning back against the far end short wall of the roof as he watched the flames flare and ebb and the clouds and clouds of dark gray smoke rise into the sky.

It was around 1 PM according to his trusty and die-hard Adventure Time watch, and he was taking a break from the recon he'd been doing all morning on a soon-to-be-dead mark. Chewing contentedly on a bite from a slice of pizza, he was trying to ignore how much he was sweating under his suit in the hot weather of NY mid-summer. Beside him on the ground was the open pizza box, the last few pieces slowly getting cold, and beside the box was a packet containing a few taco's and a bottle of unopened water, which he'd bought just in case he was still thirsty after his soda, which he would be because it was fucking hot.

Still, he was in an overall good mood. He had a big pay day coming up and even though he didn't need the money, there was nothing wrong with being even richer, you know?

He was presently listening to music with his old iPod and Bluetooth headphones. He had really tried to find an old portable sized cassette player like he'd used to have after his had finally given out. But it had been more difficult than finding a VCR player, and that had been before the blip. So, Wade had had to cut his losses and had bought an old iPod on sale a long time ago. It wasn't the same, it lacked the good vibes and nostalgic aesthetic that he liked, but it wasn't too bad either. Being on the small side, he could fit it easily into his pouches, but that also meant he couldn't fit that many stickers on its nice flat surface.

It served its purpose though, which right then, was to play back the emotional tune of Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse Of The Heart loud enough that he couldn't hear the sounds of the city.

And he was singing along,

"♪ And I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever-" doing his best to hit the high notes even where there were none, "♪ and if you only hold me tight, we'll be holding on forever! ♪" minding his own business, "♪ And we'll only be making it right, 'cause we'll never be wrong. Together we can take it to the end of the line, your love is like a shadow on me all of the tiiiime! ♪" and just as he picked up another slice of a pizza and was about to take a bite out of it, that's when he saw Spider-Man.

After all, Bonnie Tyler could drown out the sounds of the city, but not the sights, and Wade couldn't help but to see Spider-Man come swinging up over the side of the building one over from where he was sitting. More importantly, Wade couldn't help but to see how Spidey hadn't done so with any grace at all, couldn't help having noticed how he'd all but fallen to the surface of the rooftop after letting go of his web thread, couldn't help noticing that the web slinger wasn't popping back up into view over the short wall of the building he'd landed on.

At first, in the split second of seeing Spider-Man, he'd dropped his pizza slice haphazardly into the box and had pulled his mask down, sitting stiff and paranoid that Spider-Man might see his face if the other super happened to notice him and come over. But after not seeing Spider-Man get back up, Wade unfroze and got to his feet, switching off the music as he started to walk toward the edge of the roof nearest to the next building.

And with the music switched off, he was able to hear coughing, the kind of harsh coughing that came with smoke inhalation, and it was coming from exactly where Spidey had landed and not gotten back up. Glancing to the billowing clouds of smoke in the near distance, Wade figured the hero had come from heroing all selflessly and was now hacking up his lungs because of all that burning oil smoke he'd inhaled.

He'd originally intended on making a run for it the moment he was sure Spidey was okay, but now he couldn't bring himself to run off, because his defective and picky conscience had decided at some point or other –probably all those years ago on Coney Island- that Spider-Man was one of the few people he actually gave a fuck about and now he had to know that the younger super was properly okay.

So, he doubled back to where he'd been sitting and grabbed the bottle of water out of the packet, before he made a run for the roof's ledge and made the wide jump fairly easily, landing with a short roll to carry out the momentum before he was back on his feet and running over to where he could now see Spidey laid out on his back.

He wasn't coughing anymore, and Wade panicked for a moment, dropping down onto his knees at Spider-Man's side with urgency. He saw the eye lenses of Spidey's mask were completely closed and he quickly leaned close enough that he was able to hear the younger man's wheezing breathing, which made him calm down again, the sudden panic that had bloomed in his chest easing as he sighed shortly and sat up again.

"Hey, Spidey, you okay?" he tried, speaking quietly but hurried, and when there was no response he dropped the bottle onto the rooftop floor and reached for Spider-Man's head with both hands, cradling his neck and jaw and lifting his head slightly off the ground, "Baby Boy?" he asked again a little louder. But now he was thinking that maybe he should try to lift the mask, because Spider-Man was still wheezing and the mask probably wasn't helping.

'Must have passed out before he could take it off…' he thought with a frown as he set Spidey's head down gently and tried to find a seam for the mask on Spider-Man's neck, but it was a seam which seemingly didn't exist.

Wade knew it existed though, because he'd watched Spidey pull his mask off the last time they'd seen each other and it had separated from the suit at the lower neck area. He quickly became frustrated, finding nothing as he uselessly felt with gloved hands around Spidey's neck. He hadn't wanted to yank the mask off completely, in case anyone in the higher buildings around might see, or if a news chopper went overhead, but now he figured he'd try and then just pull it back down to Spidey's nose if it came off.

So, carefully half gripping the mask material and half sliding it so as not to snag any of that lovely brown hair, Wade muttered Peter's name as he attempted to slide the whole mask up, but it didn't come away, even as it stretched, and in fact, appeared to have no break in the material.

"What the fuck?" he muttered to himself.

At a loss of what the fuck to do about that, Wade decided fuck it; he was just going to shake the shit out of the superhero in hopes that he'd wake up long enough to get his magic trick mask up so he could breathe properly, and maybe drink some water. But as he set his hands on Spidey's shoulders, the lenses of his mask made a mechanical 'zzt' sound as they flickered open somewhat, and then the next thing Wade knew, Spidey yelled 'get offa me' before Wade's world tilted and turned and then he was careening...

...having been grabbed two handed and easily thrown, sending him flying through the air to land halfway across the roof with a thud and a skid over the concrete.

The landing hurt, in that way that he really didn't even acknowledge since it was very minor compared to other pains he'd experienced, but that didn't mean it was any fun, and Wade groaned and swore under his breath anyway as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. He was mentally cursing his stupid conscience for making him decide to be the one to play the savior by trying to wake up an unconscious super-strong mutant…or mutate, or whatever Spider-Man was.

"Wade?" Spidey wheezed out in the near distance, coughing some more now that he was awake, "Wade! Oh my god, I'm sorry!" he was saying, voice pitchy with remorse but also hoarse with dryness.

Wade raised a hand and waved it once lamely without looking over,

"S'fine, I'm right as rain, Spidey." he said as he sat up and then proceeded to get to his feet. He idly dusted himself off as he saw Spider-Man coming toward him, even as he said, "There's water over there," gesturing past Spidey to where the water bottle was lying, "and you should lift up your mask-…!" he cut himself off with a choked sound when Spidey reached him and honest to God started feeling him up with fleeting hands, touching his shoulders, biceps, chest. And when Spidey's hands moved lower in his wide mask-eyed panic, Wade caught his wrists lightly before he could get to his abs,

"I'm fine." Wade said quickly and clearly, holding Spidey's hands up between them by a light grip on his wrists as he chuckled awkwardly.

"I could have killed you!" Spidey wheezed out, mask lenses narrowing which let Wade know he was probably frowning, "All the smoke, a-and the fire, I couldn't see properly, or breathe. I thought I was in a…and…I thought you were someone else. I-if I had punched you or kicked you, I, I c-could have…" his voice cracked, panic strained, and Wade blinked a few times as he processed Spidey's panic and concerns, feeling his gut twist with upsetting feelings at the idea of Spider-Man crying over him.

"Hey, no, no, relax, Baby Boy," he held Spidey's wrists a little tighter and stared straight into his mask lenses, "You just threw me about thirty-five feet across the rooftop, no biggie." Spidey was still frowning, eye lenses narrowed, as he huffed out a none-too-pleased breath of smoke scented air, "And anyway, I got this bitching, crazy ass healing factor, you can't-…"

"That's not the point," Spider-Man cut him off, voice clearer now but shaken, "I shouldn't…I could have seriously-…"

On an autopilot of previously dormant physical reactions, Wade shook his head and released Spidey's wrists to hold the sides of his neck, large hands cradling his face as he leaned closer and said seriously,

"I'm fine¸ Peter. But you are not." he said firmly and when Spidey's lenses eased from being narrowed, he figured he'd finally gotten through, "You're not breathing right. I tried to get your mask up-" he faltered when Peter's hands came up to lightly hold his wrists, almost as if he just wanted to make physical contact again. And Wade's heart rate sped up at the same time as his chest felt tight with contradicting feelings at letting the younger super get close to him, but he did his best to ignore those feelings right then, "I tried to get your mask up but I couldn't find the seam, so..."

Peter seemed to be comprehending more clearly now, and he coughed once absently to the side as he let go of Wade's wrists and instead placed them over Wade's hands on the sides of his neck.

"It's partially nanotech, the uh, the suit, I mean." he said just as Wade slipped his hands out from under Peter's, hating that he didn't want to stop touching but knowing that he had to limit himself. "If I'm unconscious," he coughed again, swallowed, "the suit keeps my mask seam concealed so I can't be unmasked until I'm able to do it myself." he explained quietly before he proceeded to find a seam that sort of just fucking appeared and started to push his mask up.

Wade stopped him from taking it all the way off with another light touch to his wrists, letting it settle over the bridge of his nose as he glanced over at the smoke and news choppers in the distance in explanation, before he said,

"That's both incredibly fucking cool and really fucking dangerous. It's ten times easier to suffocate in a mask, trust me, I know." he tried to joke, but Peter's mask lenses narrowed again –another frown- and his lips settled in a straight, displeased line, so Wade changed the subject quickly, "The mask still does the eye lenses thing even separate from the suit, huh?" because it did, and it was pretty creepy, but also, "Definitely fucking cool." he emphasized the curse word as he was wont to do, smiling down at Peter through his mask as he placed his hands –safely away from touching Peter- on his hips.

Then, suddenly and perfectly lovely, Peter was smiling up at him, exhausted and wheezy but still showing most of his pretty white teeth as he said,

"Are you kidding? This suit is worth millions of dollars of advanced tech which makes the lenses move and regulates my enhanced senses and a bunch of other fancy, expensive things." he comfortably told Deadpool far more than any other hero would have ever told Wade about his super suit, "But your suit is like, just…" his head lowered as he clearly looked Wade's torso over "…what is this? Spandex, leather and Kevlar?" he was on the money with that guess, smart guy, "And it looks so cool, and your mask is more expressive than mine is." he sounded so sincere in his compliments, and then he tilted his head in a way that was just ridiculously cute and it made Wade's chest ache, the smaller super asking "How is that even possible, by the way?"

Well, how the hell was Wade supposed to know how the fuck it worked. That was not something he could explain without mentioning fourth walls and making himself seem even crazier than he was.

So, he diverted,

"Seems like the smoke is clearing out of your lungs pretty fast there, Spidey? You're breathing keeps getting better." he stepped around Peter and walked toward the water on the ground, "Got a healing factor of your own?" he picked up the water bottle and held it out for the younger super, who had turned and followed him over.

"Yeah, I do." he took the water, turning the cap and breaking the seal, "It's not anything amazing, but it works pretty well for small stuff like this." he took a long drink.

"Everything about you is amazing." Wade muttered before he could stop himself and immediately everything sort of just got really still and quiet around them, if that even made any sense with how noisy the wind and general city sounds were, sirens still wailing in the distance and helicopter blades whirring on, too.

They were staring at each other now, mask to mask and Wade watched as Peter's adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed his drink of water. And then Wade, a bit mesmerized, tracked the blush rising along the younger super's neck, moving further up until the exposed lower half of his face was even a little blotchy with it, and his lips –now wet with moisture from the water- appeared reddish instead of pink, like they had been before.

Wade suddenly felt really fucking parched.

"Uh…" he cleared his throat and forced himself to look down and away from Peter's masked eyes, but that just left him looking down the length of that fine body and he felt torn between wanting to desperately flee and wanting to desperately touch. He couldn't touch anyway though. Right? Because sure, Spidey initiated close touching the last time, but Wade couldn't do the same, could he…?

He'd only barely envisioned himself pulling Spidey closer with his hands settled on those lean hips, before he shook his head once firmly, likely looking a little nuts to the younger super. And he was about to abruptly announce his departure, which he intended to follow through on by dearly departing himself off the edge of the twenty-story building they were on, but then Peter's soft reddened lips parted and he asked,

"The last time, that, uh, that night we saw each other in the Bronx," he gestured with his free hand in a general north-westerly direction, swallowing noticeably again and looking really uncertain of what he wanted to say, making Wade feel anxious too because he suspected he knew where this was going and he knew he should yeet himself off the building asap but he just couldn't leave while Spidey was talking to him all sweet and nervous and-, "I asked if I'd s-see you around, and you just, just-..." he made another half gesture before he brought both of his hands to fiddle with the water bottle and he settled for staring down at the ground and Wade just waited him out, feeling a little helpless, "-you just took off, and didn't answer me. But I, uh, I meant it," he added quickly, glancing up and then looking down again, "I meant it, that I wanted to see you again. I really did, Wade."

Then he fell silent, still fiddling with the bottle, and Wade shifted on his feet, deciding that since Spidey was looking down he could probably make an undignified, totally cowardly run for it while the guy was talking to his shoes, and at least-

"And I mean, I get it, you know, if you don't want to h-hang out with me…" Wade's terrible escape plan screeched to a halt and he frowned down at Peter's masked head, surprised by what the younger super was saying, but also by the quiet, shaken insecurity colouring his voice, "You're, uh, one of the few people who know who's under this suit, and I know that Peter Parker isn't the same as what Spider-Man comes across like." a humorless laughing scoff, "Trust me, I know people prefer Spider-Man. Even I prefer Spider-Man." Peter was still talking looking downward and Wade's mouth was hanging open under his mask, "I'm actually really lame when compared to Spider-man, and you, I mean, you like Spider-Ma- uh," he looked up now, lenses wide as he shook his head in some kind of embarrassed panic, "I-I mean I think you like me, as Spider-Man, I can't, I mean," the plastic of the water bottle crackled slightly in his grip, "I d-don't know, I have no way of knowing that for sure and I shouldn't just assume. I just-..."

Wade had to make him stop, so he raised a hand between them and pressed his gloved index finger lightly to that pretty red mouth, effectively silencing the younger super and -judging by how the lenses briefly narrowed almost closed- probably making his eyes cross for a moment. Wade couldn't listen anymore and he was absolutely stunned, not only by how much Spidey was rambling and nervous, but also by just how wrong he was getting everything! How the fucking fuck?

It was kind of mind-fucking that he and Spidey both seemed to have insecurities about what was beneath their suits, albeit for completely different reasons. But Wade had no idea how Peter could think anything like that about himself in the first place.

Because shit, he was gorgeous, adorable, handsome and from what Wade could tell so far, his personality was sincere and sweet and a little dorky in that totally loveable way and...and...

"Okay," he exhaled, deciding to just lay it out even as his stomach clenched with anxiety at having to talk about thoughts and feelings, "I didn't want to get into this, hence the reason I ditched you without an answer that night," he started plainly, watching Peter's lips pressed together at his straightforward words, and then Wade went ahead and just said it like was, "but you need to know, Baby Boy, that firstly, none of the dumb shit I have done, and probably will do in future, with regards to you, has anything to do with you." he clarified.

Or at least he hoped that's what he was doing, since words, when they had to actually mean something, were hard, but he aimed for honesty and just went with it, "Secondly, you are amazing, and I don't just mean amazing as in how super fucking hot you are, even though yeah, wow, holy Hare Krishna, you are amazingly fucking hot and I just want to do-ooohnoo, uh..." he trailed off into an awkward strained laugh as he urgently rerouted his thoughts, "The point is, it's me, not you. And that's not an excuse, I am very literally a complete fucking disaster, a total fucktastic mess, a drunken mall Santa addicted to methamphetamine and trying to shake kids down for their pocket money in exchange for the false promise of more presents, kind of mess. M-E-S-S. " he took a breath while Spidey just stared up at him, water bottle now forgotten in his still hands and mouth gone slack under Wade's finger.

Wade was not done, "And that is not even including the fact that I'm more than a little batshit crazy." he pointed to his head with his free hand, before he started listing things with his fingers on the same hand, "I'm an asshole 99 point 2 percent of the time, I'm erratic, I'm unreliable, I fucking hate cows, I'm a mercenary, and not out of necessity, but because I abso-fucking-lutely enjoy my job. And by job I mean killing people. I enjoy killing people, like, a lot, and come on Spidey, you?" he threw both hands up dramatically, "You're a fricken' superhero, and not just any superhero, but a superhero that is there for all the people, every day, as often as you can be. A superhero who actually gives a rat's ass." and he just kept talking, realizing that he was as bad with rambling as Spider-Man was, "You shouldn't waste your time hanging around with me, you could wander into an alleyway and find some garbage there that would be more worth your tim-…

"Oh my God, Wade, shut up." Peter finally interrupted him and brought his verbal diarrhea to a stop, one of his hands having come up to lightly curl around one of Wade's to stop him from gesticulating. Spidey's eye lenses were narrowed, which was an indication of a frown again as he sighed, "I get it, okay?" he huffed out, lowering his hand and Wade's along with it, "I already know how it'd look for me to be friends with you. I've thought about it a lot since the last time we saw each other." he paused and glanced around to gather his thoughts while all Wade could do was stand very still while listening and being extremely aware that Peter hadn't let go of his hand, and so now they were kind of actually just...holding hands.

Wow. It felt so strange and so nice and-… "But I don't care, I just...I don't." Spidey shook his head and their masked eyes met again, "Even though I know you're a, a killer, I also know you only kill bad guys. And yeah," he shrugged, "that's not something I necessarily agree with, but I also won't personally condemn you for it. I'm not naive enough to think that criminals and evil can be viewed as black and white. Not anymore." he mumbled the last part quietly and in a withdrawn tone that caught Wade's attention, made him think that the 'naivety' scenario was a sore spot for Spidey. Before he could ask or comment though, Spidey continued in a more upbeat voice, "So, I accept all those things about you, everything you said, even the meth addicted mall Santa thing-,"

"But-..."

"No, man. Come on." Peter interrupted him before he could even try to object, but what actually made his words get stuck in his throat was the fact that Spidey also completely slipped his smaller hand into in to Wade's and squeezed, "Look, I'm standing here," he paused, swallowed nervously, "telling you I want to see you more often, that I want to get to know you properly," and oh, he was blushing again, from his neck up to where the mask was halfway up his face, "I'm telling you this even after I had to wash b-blood off my suit and face after the last time I saw you." he admitted softly and Wade swallowed thickly and squeezed Peter's hand right back, conflicting feelings warring inside him.

He didn't even think of the fact that he'd had that rapist's blood all over him that time. And while his heart was beating rapidly now with fear and hope about letting himself get close to Spider-Man like the younger super wanted, his chest also felt constricted with self-loathing and disgust about having tainted Spider-Man with the literal blood of a revolting pig.

"Shitfuck," he spat quietly, tone apologetic, "sorry about the blood, I didn't eve-..."

"Wade, I just said it's fine, it doesn't matter." Spidey cut him off again, and while he should have felt annoyed, Wade couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than amazed as he thought of how he didn't deserve this kind of acceptance. Spidey smiled again then, a lopsided little thing and Wade's heart hurt, "I mean, it was super gross, and I'd like to never have to experience that again, so, you know, next time I'll just make sure you're not covered in blood when-..." Wade could only stare, not breathing, as Spidey's mask lenses widened as far open as they could as his words registered between them.

Words that clearly reflected what Spidey was thinking; that'd there'd be a next time that they would be that close again. That Wade could hold him like that again. And shit, what did that mean? Because Wade was pretty sure he'd expressed to Peter all of the underlying sexual feelings he'd had about that embrace at the time. Did Peter not remember? Or did he not care? Or did he...no, it couldn't be...

"Next time." Wade breathed out before Spidey could turn any redder or pull his now tensed hand out of Wade's, "You, uh, you wanna' get that up close and personal with me again, Baby Boy?" he chuckled a bit, trying to add some humor to the uncertain quiet that was lingering. But Peter was now turning even redder and when he pursed his lips and lowered his head -seemingly looking at their joined hands- Wade decided to just go ahead and remind the younger super of a hard fact. "Not that I don't want to, cause' fuck, it's actually the opposite." he let his hand go lax, expecting Peter to let it go, "You remember what I said that night, don't you? About popping a boner? Yeah?" he chuckled gruffly and added, "That wasn't a joke." in a plainly suggestive tone, so that Spider-Man wouldn't think he was kidding. It was time to be as clear as possible actually, "You surprised me the first time you got that close to me, Peter, but if you put all of you in that spandex up against all of me a second time, I'm gonna' get so hard you're gonna' be able to tell what religion I'm not." he didn't even laugh that time to ease the crude admission.

He wanted Spider-Man to know that while 'friends' was maybe possible for them, if Spider-Man wanted it to be a tactile friendship, it wouldn't stop the fact that a grown-up Spider-Man showing up in his life had reignited the very, very bright and hot flame of interest Wade had had for the younger super in the past. Back then, when he hadn't known Spidey was a teen, he'd spent many a night getting off to the idea of sexing up Spider-Man in all manner of filthy ways, and it would be no less intense now that Spidey was an adult and Wade was actually feeling something again. In fact, Wade's imagination would probably do worse - or better depending on your perspective - when coming up with raunchy scenarios involving him and the wall-crawler if they started to get closer.

Wade was way past platonic when it came to Spider-Man, had been even before he'd known he shouldn't have been. Now, all legal and hotter than ever, there was no going back from that.

He expected his honesty to be enough to make Spider-Man, who was currently -and strangely- still holding his hand, still blotchy with how flustered he was, back off. He was expecting his words to sober the younger man, to make him decide that Wade was gross and that he didn't want some older, morally degenerate killer not only in his life, but constantly thinking about getting into his pants. And there was no way that Spidey would be okay with that because-

His thought was cut off because Spidey mumbled something that Wade didn't catch,

"...uh, what was that?" he asked, and he leaned down and closer at the exact same time as Spidey raised his head and looked up at him, their faces only a few inches apart as a result when Spidey said,

"I remember." softly but clearly, and his voice just a tad on the amused side. Also, his masks eyes were no longer widened in shock, but rather relaxed, halfway open and staring straight into Wade's wide mask eyes…and there was the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of those blush red lips that had Wade's brain functionality stuttering.

It honestly took a several second count for him to catch on to exactly what those words meant, but when he did, all he could think was holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshitholyshit for a solid minute as they continued to stare at each other.

A few pigeons were cooing somewhere on the roof nearby, there was the sound of more fire engines rushing to where the smoke was still billowing up into the sky from the flames at the refinery, car horns were honking and the general noisy din of loud New Yorkers carried with the wind all the way to the rooftop of the building they were on. But all Wade was focused on was his blood rushing in his ears, the heavy thud of his heart and the feeling of Peter's hand once again holding tighter to his own.

It didn't seem possible that this was actually happening; not only the fact that Spider-Man had basically just admitted to knowing Wade wanted him sexually and was still interested in being physically close to him, which implied by extension that Spider-Man wanted that sort of contact with him, but he also couldn't believe the range of emotions he was feeling right then, none of which were the usual perpetual anger and bitterness that underlined everything in his life.

His emotions were going crazy right then, all so complicated while also being so, so fucking clear. Jesus fucking Christ, he was feeling excitement. Not the sexual kind, the kind that came with anticipation and hope and happiness and nothing Wade was used to anymore.

But he was also feeling raw and wound up, and like all of his nerves were starting to fray. Fuck.

This was the way he'd felt after he'd become Deadpool but before he'd revealed himself to Vanessa. He'd spent weeks and weeks in emotional turmoil, wondering how she could possibly accept him as Deadpool, how she could accept what he looked like, how she could still want to be close to him. And to the present day he knew that if it hadn't been for Francis kidnapping Vanessa and forcing his hand, Wade would never have revealed himself to her. Because he had truly not believed it was possible for someone to love what he was as Deadpool...to want to touch what he was, be close to him as what he was.

"Wade? Are you okay?"

Peter's voice made Wade realize he was breathing loudly and deeply while staring down at their joined hands. He couldn't help thinking about how if Peter knew what he was, how he looked, under the suit, the younger super wouldn't be so accepting...he wouldn't be holding onto Wade's hand.

And then suddenly his mind was screaming; abortabortabortabortabortabortabortabort because he didn't want to get rejected, not by someone that he actually desired. A rejection from Spider-Man, from Peter, would not feel the same numbed way as how he'd long ago become jaded and desensitized to prostitutes and general people he'd occasionally found himself looking at when he was out in the streets, when they'd hand his money back like it was diseased, or make grossed out faces at him.

He'd become so used to that in the past, that after all the time gone by that he'd gone without sexual closeness or interest in anyone, even the memory of those times didn't faze him. But just the imagined idea of Peter's beautiful face scrunching up with disgust at the sight of him had Wade's feelings spiraling violently.

"Wade?" Peter said his name again, sounding concerned and releasing Wade's hand. He dropped the water bottle to the ground so that he could place his hands on Wade's tense shoulders, and they were so close already but somehow Peter touching his shoulders was too much.

Not too much because he didn't want to be touched, but too much because of how much he did.

Wade stepped back abruptly then, still breathing heavily as he put some distance between them. Suddenly he was reminded of how fucking hot it was as he felt sticky and sweaty in the worst possible way everywhere under his suit. And he knew it was because his self-hatred was at an all-time high, so bad that he wanted to flay himself if only to be rid of his skin for a short while.

But he'd tried that before, and it didn't even work because his skin healed back faster than he could peel it away, and it hurt so badly too, emotionally as much as physically.

Oh god, he could feel that he wanted to cry, and that hadn't happened in so long that the ache of it trapped in his throat momentarily made him forget to breathe. He knew he had to get away immediately, to somewhere where he'd be alone, and he was automatically leaving then, vision honing in on the nearest fire escape, it being a clean route to getting away, just far enough and out of sight that he could shoot himself and just stop feeling things, all things. He wanted to be numb again, and the nearest alley would do, just for a reset. He decided that concisely and was already reaching down to his thigh to unholster one of his Desert Eagles as he neared the top of the ladder.

But then he heard a sniffle, so soft that he shouldn't have heard it, but the wind...the wind had carried the sound to him, and he stopped walking. Because it was Peter who had sniffled.

Wade was walking away from Peter again, after Peter had expressed wanting to be close to him again, and now he had hurt the younger super. And while Wade didn't want to be hurting himself, he wanted even less for Peter to be hurt.

So, he couldn't just leave.

And he couldn't go ahead and shoot himself or jump off the building to selfishly cut off the world and the feelings that Spider-Man was making him feel, not with Peter right there watching.

He had to...he had to get his shit together.

He had years and years spent not feeling much of anything other than rage and bitterness, and now, now maybe it was time for him to move past the blip? Maybe if he was making an effort for someone else and not just for himself, maybe it could work? He hadn't thought he'd ever have the desire to, he hadn't thought anything would make him feel like he had before he'd lost everything once and then again.

But right then he was feeling; he was feeling alive and real and it was terrifying because it made him vulnerable, vulnerable like he'd been when Vanessa had been kidnapped, and when Vanessa had said they could try for a baby, and when Vanessa had died.

She'd been the last person to want him.

Now Peter was expressing some kind of interest in him and maybe, just maybe, he owed it to himself, and to Peter, to try again. Maybe he could let himself try to get closer. The idea of being hurt was so scary it made him feel so hot and cold and tense and pained, but also, the idea of being...kissed again? Kissed by someone who knew what he was under the suit and still wanted him like Vanessa had?

That would be something...something that seemed unfathomable.

But maybe.

Maybe Peter...

"Wade?" his name again, confused and hesitant, followed by another sniffle.

'Maybe' he thought.

Chapter Text

...but to be honest there's a part of me that loses control.

Wade turned around quickly and somewhat dramatically, plastering a smile on his face wide enough that he knew it would be visible to Peter through the stretch of his mask,

"Sorry about that. Batshit crazy, remember?" he made the excuse with a forced chuckle and a hand vaguely gesturing to his head, "My mind wanders and I can be a little erratic, you know?" he was lying, but he also wasn't. Because even though he hadn't been having a dissociative or unstable episode just then -and hadn't had one in a long while-, it wasn't like it wasn't true that it could happen.

Peter remained motionless and didn't say anything, like he wasn't sure about whether to accept the sudden change to Wade's mind or the dubious excuse he'd given, and Wade couldn't blame him. Considering he'd walked away from the younger super twice so far, he was amazed Spidey still gave enough of a shit to be standing there. The guy was really serious about sticking around apparently, and so Wade figured then that if he was going to do this, he had to just go all in. If he was going to put himself out there to be –inevitably- rejected at some point, he might as well throw himself into it in the same way he usually ran head first and uncaring of his well-being when it came to a fight.

Do or die. Or...do and/or die and then come back afterwards, in his case.

Coming back afterwards was always the fucking worst though, and from death it was one thing, but coming back from liking someone, loving them...letting them close, man, it had felt like torture for Wade after Vanessa. And this would be no different, he just knew it. He'd lost so much just losing her, and so he'd never thought of trying again for real...but now, now he was deciding to try one more time. It was a bad idea, but then, his entire backstory was made up of bad ideas, so...

So, he started with the basics. A disclaimer!

He quickly approached Peter again across the roof in order to stand close and let his sincerity and seriousness show as much as it could through his mask when he said,

"I'm sorry, I'm a fuck up." he sighed, mask eyes squinted as he shook his head once, "I told you right. So, don't ever say I didn't warn you. If you end up regretting this shit, it's not on me." he pointed a finger from Peter to himself and then paused to think that over, tilting his head before saying, "Okay, well, it definitely will be my fault if you regret this but," he raised the index finger he'd been pointing with and tapped Peter on his nose, "it'll be your mistake."

Wade had no idea what response to expect, but unbelievably -and gorgeously-, Peter smiled up at him, all pretty lips and teeth, and holy shit was it a beautiful and adorable smile all at once. Wade found himself wishing they weren't in the open right then, because he might have been able to see those pretty brown eyes too, if Peter had taken his mask off agai-…

...oh. Oooh no.

Wade was abruptly reminded of the fact that at some point he'd be expected to take his own mask off.

How had he just forgotten that very fucking important detail? And in only the few seconds between his deciding to leave and Peter sadly sniffing!? Fuck!

All over again he felt anxious, body tensing up stiffly, but Peter stepped a little closer, closer than they'd been standing before Wade had walked off, and while it was not as close as they'd been that night in the Bronx, all of Wade's anxiously scattered attention focused on looking down at the shorter super.

"This, huh?" Peter asked, echoing what Wade had referenced them as, and he was still smiling, a faint blush clinging to his skin, when he added, "So, that means you want to, uh," he paused and Wade heard him swallow as he tried to get out what he wanted to say, "want to spend more time together?"

And while it was ten and a half kinds of fucking cute watching and listening to him try to flirt, Wade couldn't ignore that Peter had, more than once throughout their conversation, chosen to use only phrases that hinted, almost as if he was purposely avoiding eluding to them being friends, but wasn't confident enough to say what he actually wanted, so it left him insinuating that he wanted more. Wade still couldn't believe it though, and he hated the idea of not being sure-sure, 'So I'll have to test it...' he thought as he nodded his head in response to Peter.

"Yeah, I do want that." he admitted in a quieter voice than was usual for him, taking in a deep, silent breath as he let his decision settle in.

He was really going to do this, to ty this again. With Spider-Man? Wow.

"Great!" Peter said a bit loudly and he seemed to flinch back at his own burst of enthusiasm, Wade watching amused as the shorter man tried to play it off as cool, clearing his throat and nervously patting his abdomen before loosely crossing his arms, only to finally place his hands on his hips, "That's, uh, that's great, because, I, uh, I-like you," and hearing those words, Wade internally panicked and preened at the same time while Peter obliviously went on, "because you're a...I mean, you seem like a good guy."

Say what now?

Wade tilted his head then, the expression on his mask likely telegraphing his stupefaction at those words quite clearly because Peter huffed and said,

"Hey, don't look at me like that, I mean it." and he sounded like he really did, which left Wade stumped, and then Wade got caught up watching as Peter wet his lips with an absent swipe of his tongue -christonapogostick- before the younger man proceeded to explain with that same pretty mouth, "Wade, you are a good guy, like, in your own way, you know?" was he really asking? Because Wade's answer would start with an N and end with an O. "I mean, come on, you knew, all this time, all these years, what I looked like. And if you ever did find out who I was after we met back then, you never used it against me." he sighed and shrugged, his previously gesturing hands falling to hang at his sides, "My identity is my biggest weakness. It could ruin and endanger the lives of my family and friends if people knew, and yet, you never tried to use it against me." he finished somewhat emphatically.

Wade frowned as he stared down at Peter, having heard the same vulnerability that had been in Peter's voice that night in the Bronx filtering into his speech just then, and he found himself getting angry, because he could guess that someone, or more than one person possibly, had betrayed Peter in the past, and now the young superhero was reduced to trusting someone like Wade!?

Not that his trust was misplaced though, because Wade had known that night he'd seen Spidey's fifteen-year-old, bloody bruised face for the first time, that if he ever so happened to need to, he would kill someone for Spidey without even asking questions first. Because Spider-Man was a real hero in his eyes, and Peter seemed like everything pure, sincere and good in the world, and he was the kind of human being that should never have been hurt by anyone.

"So quit talking shit about yourself already." Peter said, breaking the tense silence that had settled between them, smirking as he lightly poked a finger into Wade's sternum. Wade couldn't help smiling in return, even as he fake-gasped and leaned closer with a hand on one to cheek to whisper-shout,

"Oh em gee, he swears!"

Peter didn't miss a beat, responding with a snort and a grin, and then in a put-upon accent and slightly deeper tone he said,

"What d'ya mean? A'course I do, I grew up in Noo Yawk, Queens, man."

Wade just stared, mask eyes a little wide as he grinned broadly under his mask,

"What the shit, Baby Boy, that was terrible." he said fondly, having loved hearing every accented word, "But even so," he paused to make a heart with both hands raised in front of his face, and Peter was already snickering even before Wade added in a breathy whisper, "Motherfucking heart-eyes." breaking his hands apart, moving his fingers in a fluttering motion as he did so. Peter was still snickering and still blushing slightly and Wade was grinning even harder now, his lips and skin feeling a little tight from the stretch of it. He really wasn't used to smiling so much.

When his laughter tapered off, Peter recovered with an amused and challenging,

"Like you can do any better?"

Wade immediately conceded,

"Oh no, no, no, absolutely not. I'm not even American, let alone a New Yorker." he informed Peter as he placed his hands on his hips.

At this, Peter's mask lenses widened and then narrowed.

"Really?" he asked curiously.

Wade nodded,

"Ya-bud."

Peter's mask eyes squinted,

"Wait, are you-..."

"A canuck; for sure."

"A Canadian mercenary, really?" his mouth was doing a cute smile-frown thing. He sounded skeptical.

"Yep."

"No way, where in Canada?"

"Saskatchewan." Wade said, but it wasn't true. He just liked the way the word sounded, like Chimichangas. In general, Wade never liked talking about his Canadian roots, since his childhood had been the epitome of shit. Some things just needed to stay buried.

Peter sounded amused when he said,

"I thought Canadian's were supposed to be super nice people."

Wade faked another gasp and placed a hand on his chest,

"I am the super nicest." he said in his best valleyspeak accent, which was contradictorily a very American thing. Peter scoffed, trying to smother his smile and failing,

"You're a mercenary."

"What, mercenaries can't be nice people, eh?" Wade hammed up the Canadian accent that time, loving the way Peter just kept smiling.

"I guess maybe they can," Peter shrugged exaggeratedly before his voice and smile softened, "I mean, you are pretty nice."

'Jesus Christ, he's flirting with me again.' Wade's brain screeched and his heart rate sped up more than it had already been lightly hammering all along from their banter and Peter's smile.

"Okay, okay, I lied." Wade said playfully, lowering his voice a little. He decided on the spot it was the right moment to test what exactly it was Peter was looking for.

"Oh, really?" Peter's voice was shyer now, but still flirtatious.

"Yeah. Yes. Liar, liar pants on fucking fire. I'm a total prick." he said unapologetically, and then he made a move, "But when it comes to you, I'll always make an exception, sweetums." speaking in a tone of voice he hadn't used in years. The tone of voice reserved for when he needed to be sexy and charming, and while he could no longer qualify for the former, Wade was still capable of being a huge damn flirt, he'd always been good at flirting.

Peter's grin widened and he did the cutest little half bounce on the balls of his feet when he said,

"Always, huh? That sounds good. Means you plan on sticking around." he sounded pretty happy about it, and Wade felt good because Peter was happy and that need to please someone hadn't happened to him in so long it felt like a physical ache now when it did.

"As long as you want me to." and he knew he was fucked, super fucked, because he really meant it. He was terrified, but he wanted this, despite denying it so hard for the past few weeks, and now that he was letting himself have it he knew he was going to go careening, head first, right over his heels, untethered and the fall was going to fucking wreck him when he hit the bottom.

"I'll hold you to that." Peter responded, still flirtatious and still grinning softly, redness lingering on his skin.

Wade nodded absently and then made another, bolder, move,

"You can hold me to anything you want, Baby Boy," and he shifted a little closer as he plainly gave the length of Peter's body in all that tight spandex one very blatant look over before he suggestively added, "Especially if it's up close and all kinds of personal to that banging body of yours."

Peter lit up red with renewed fluster so fast it was almost magical for Wade to witness, and he didn't really understand why, he'd said far more sex related things than that around Peter so far, hadn't he?

Yeah, he had. So, Peter was also surprised by his own reaction, his smile losing its shape and his lips parting in surprise, the eyes of his mask making that 'zzt' sound again as he blinked rapidly and averted his eyes to the side too quickly for the mechanics to match.

Thing was, that had been the first blatant and direct come-on Wade had made towards him and it turned out he was not ready for it, his brain releasing a confusing mix of hormones, making him feel one part turned on and two parts anxious. He was totally unprepared for how the man's demeanor changed and for how hot and adult he sounded. Peter didn't think he could sound like that when he flirted even if he tried a hundred times, so how come Wade sounded like that?!

It left him feeling a bit lost and unsure all of a sudden about exactly what level of relationship he was ready for, because Wade didn't sound like he was suggesting close cuddles with those last words. Nope, his tone had implied a whole other thing. And since this was Peter's first time considering a guy in a non-platonic way, being faced with the vast difference of sexuality in Wade's tone alone compared to his own, along with the difference in age and physical size and experience, Peter found himself wondering if he really knew what he was getting into.

As a result his initial reaction was hesitation, feeling like he was maybe out of his depth, and it was a bad habit of his to make lame jokes, awkward excuses, to apologize, or to make up a reason to bail when he felt uncomfortable around people. He was just about to do that, too, opening his mouth to stutter out some weak exit strategy, but at the same time as he thought of backing off, the questions of 'Why am I hesitating?' and 'What's holding me back?' occurred to him and he pursed his lips to keep himself from saying anything.

He didn't want to fall back into old habits. Nine out of ten uncomfortable or intimidating disagreements and/or confrontations and discussions he had with people in his life usually ended with him either giving in or giving up. He'd always been a bit of pushover, never had been particularly good at standing up for himself or saying what he was feeling or wanted. Sure, he could kick ass now and ran his mouth like a motor, but that was as Spider-Man, not Peter Parker.

But he didn't want that anymore, he didn't want to be brave as Spider-Man and scared as Peter Parker, because he was both Peter and Spider-Man...and hadn't Wade said he was amazing? And Wade had said that even knowing it was just plain ol' Peter under the suit.

Peter found himself smiling just so again, deciding once and for all that even though it was scary, the new territory of getting together with another guy –and not just any guy, but a dangerous, mysterious, wild card guy like Deadpool- he needed to be either all in or completely out, there was no room for half-minds and uncertainties because that kind of indecision never led anywhere good. Besides, he was the one who'd started it, because he was curious and interested and anticipating something, he'd just have to figure it out as he went along. There was no use in backing out now.

Deciding to respond with action rather than words, after a cursory glance around the shorter and taller buildings surrounding them, Peter stepped forward into Wade's personal space. He was nervous as hell but some of the nervousness was from excitement, and he was not really sure what he was doing but he did know that he wanted to respond to Deadpool's boldness with his own.

Wade, who hadn't expected Peter to actually want to hold his body against him, especially after all that boner talk, had to force himself to keep calm and play it cool when Peter stepped up so much closer to him and initiated a hug, telling himself to just return the embrace and not read too much into the situation. Even though the signals Peter was putting out at this point seemed pretty clear-!

The idea of not reading too much into anything was quickly overturned when Peter, awkwardly and shyly, drew back from the hug before raising his arms to wrap the around Wade's neck instead, having to stand up on his toes to do so!

Wade stopped breathing.

This move on Peter's part was decidedly less platonic, and as far as he could see, it left Wade with two options of where to put his own arms or hands; a) hands politely on Peter's flanks, or b) arms around his waist. But the decision was a no brainer, because if Peter was offering to press that fine-ass body against his own, Wade wasn't about to turn him down, so he slipped his arms around Peter's waist and tightened his hold just enough that their full fronts were touching, even if only just, and Wade also bent forward a bit to make it easier for Peter considering their height difference.

It immediately felt very intimate very quickly, and Wade was glad that Peter had ducked his head down to hide his face against the front of his shoulder, because Wade's expressive mask was showing how affected he was, his brain automatically repeating a stream of disbelieving expletives over and over.

The feeling of Peter pressed against him like that, much like it had the other night weeks ago, sent his own feelings running rampant, and a lot more of those feelings were sexual this time. Like everything else in him that had been dormant for so long, his libido had been suppressed as well, so while he tended to make lots of sex jokes as per the usual, personally, he'd been numb to the desire for sex.

But now that he'd be letting Peter get close to him, and in this physical way specifically, all of Wade's switches were being turned on and he registered the press of Peter's lean, hard muscles and curves against him with far more sexual awareness than he had before. What he'd previously been able to tamp down when holding Peter the last time would no longer be held in check, and he was already imagining with crystal clarity what it'd be like to peel the skintight suit off the younger super...to mark up his fair skin with suck and bite marks, to bend and stretch his agile limbs into all kinds of interesting positions and over all kinds of surfaces.

'And the things I'd do to that ass!' Wade could feel himself getting hard.

It'd been so long since he'd been so turned on that there was no stopping it...but Spidey had been warned, so Wade didn't bother to, ahem, curb his enthusiasm. Besides, he needed to know exactly what Peter wanted out of getting close to him, so he might as well run a few tests.

That was excuse he made to himself as he loosened his arms from around Peter's waist, placed his large hands on the younger super's mid-back and then very deliberately splayed and caressed them down Peter's body, forcing himself to stop when he reached real low on Peter's back, his pinky and ring fingers resting on the rise of Peter's perfect ass...so close.

He stopped because Peter's breath audibly hitched and he'd tightened his arms around Wade's neck, but also unconsciously –or hopefully not- he'd pressed his body inwards...closer and firmly against Wade's, enough that just as obviously as Wade could feel his erection pressed to Spidey's stomach, Spidey could feel it too, and yet he didn't pull back.

Wade flexed his fingers into the spandex over Peter's waist and lower back, breathing a quiet and drawn out,

"Fuuuuck." as they remained standing that way for a few very hot seconds. And then Peter loosened his arms, not to pull away, but to be able to lean back as he raised his head to look at Wade, swallowing thickly before asking,

"Can I see you?" and sliding one arm down until his hand was settled on Wade's neck, right where the mask tucked into his suit, the younger super's fingers curled lightly into the material, preparing to tug it up.

Wade tensed up immediately, mask-eyes widening as he forced himself not to shove Peter back roughly, even though his instincts made him want to remove all contact in his panic. Instead he frantically tried to think of how to inoffensively say hell fucking no, because he was one hundred thousand percent not about to let that happen, not yet anyway! It was too soon to show Peter his horror movie face.

He was saved by ACDC before he could turn Peter's request down, the familiar 'Back in Black' tune coming through the tinny speakers of a cellphone that was definitely not Wade's, and so it must have been Peter's.

"Oh crap." Peter muttered as he stepped out of their hold and reached behind his back, all of his attention now on the task of answering his phone.

Wade took in a silent breath of relief, even if it did suck to have let go of Peter, and he watched as the younger super pulled a smartphone out of…somewhere on his suit. For once Wade was the one wondering where the fuck a thing had come from on someone else's very tight suit.

"Where were you keeping that?" he asked with a puzzled frown as he watched Peter swallow tensely when he saw the caller name on his screen, muttering another 'oh crap' to himself as he cuffed a hand over the top of his mask, a move that was probably intended for all that soft brown hair that Spidey couldn't get to right then.

"Uh, it's a secret pouch, nanotech conceals it." he said in a quick breath, sounding distracted, and then he looked at Wade and raised a hand to him with two fingers up, and as he answered the call and brought the phone up to his ear he mouthed 'my aunt, two minutes'.

"Hey, May." he said into the receiver in a very affectionate but nervous tone, and Wade watched amused as Peter idly half-stepped and paced around as he spoke to his Aunt, "No, no, yeah, actually I'm fine. Yeah, but I had to rush away from the scene, but everyone was safe so they didn't need me an-, uh, yeah, I'm sure, complete evac. Uh, yes, yeah the smoke was ba-…what, no!" Peter shook his head, mouth forming a frowny pout and his free hand gesturing his denial as he continued, "I wasn't swinging weird, how could anyone even see tha-, no, really, I was fine. I mean, I am fine!" then with a more definitive pout and a put-out tone of voice, "Are they showing that footage on the news?" a pause, "Aaw, man, that sucks…" Wade, far too curious, took his cell phone out of one of his pouches and tapped into his Youtube app, "…how bad is it? Do I look stupid?" he sounded grumpy now, "Wha- flailing? I wasn't- arg…" he face-palmed, mask eyes closing completely as he shook his head in dismay.

Wade glanced up from his phone as he searched, and he could only smile, endeared and very quickly becoming adoring, as Peter started to wind down his conversation with his aunt, an aunt who apparently knew he was Spider-Man and from the one side of the chat that he could hear, she sounded very supportive.

He found the cell phone footage he was looking for then and he tapped on 'play'. The video was taken from below in the streets, Peter could be seen swinging high above people's heads, and yep, it was pretty clear that he was a little out of it, Wade watching as he barely missed to clip the corner of a building, and then went on to slip down his web as well. The video was a compilation from different cell phones, resulting in different angles.

And the sight was not as amusing as Wade had thought it would be, in fact, he wasn't amused at all, his stomach dropping slightly with the collective gasps of the crowd in the video when Spidey slipped on his web so high above the hard, unforgiving ground, the spidery super appearing to latch onto his web thread tightly with two hands, his legs indeed flailing for a moment as he tried to regain his balance to make a turn that took him out of sight.

It left Wade feeling a little unsettled and panicky in his gut, much like he had when he'd seen Peter drop heavily onto the roof earlier, where he hadn't gotten up immediately. Wade was already becoming too attached and it was danger-

"-ith a friend right now." Peter's words caught his attention, because wow, was Peter already telling his Aunt about knowing him? "Uh, no, y-you don't know him. Not-no, not from university, no, no, not work eith-uh, no, I, May, can we, can we talk about this later? I gotta' ge-…"

Wade noticed that Peter was getting cut off a lot, or maybe he was just the kind of guy who didn't often finish sentences unless you let him. He seemed the type to not get annoyed with being interrupted. Wade on the other hand, tended to have to say his piece and he got annoyed –and trigger happy- if someone cut him off.

Peter was suddenly quiet though, listening to whatever his Aunt was saying attentively, and then he glanced at Wade with a half-smile, holding his phone to his ear with one hand while the other was settled on his narrow hip, before he turned away abruptly.

"Tonight?! An hour?!" he sounded mildly alarmed. "May, come on, that's super short notice, I'm so tired and I smell like oil fumes. Can't we reschedule?" he complained. Wade just stood by, watching and noting Peter's mannerisms and movements in order to commit them to memory. It was a habit he'd developed long ago, trying to memorize things, trying to hang on to them for some reason that had to do with the fact that he was pretty much immortal while everyone else would die.

He swallowed a little tensely, listening to the pitches and dips in Peter's voice, just looking at him, because he could, because he wanted to.

"Oh, oh right! That's...yeah, they were in Paris! Right." he touched his head in an absent gesture, nodding along with whatever his Aunt was saying, "Yeah, yeah, okay, got it, I'll dress nicely-, yeah oka- okay, I get it, yeah, I promise, May. It's a fancy restaurant, no sneakers, noted." he sighed and tipped his head back, "Yeah, I'll iron my clothes…" he mumbled grumpily.

Wade snorted at that comment and Peter turned to flash him another smaller, somewhat sheepish smile, making Wade's chest feel so tight and he wasn't even sure with what emotions exactly, he just felt it.

"Okay, I'll see you soon. Ok, love you, May. Bye."

Peter hung up then and Wade grinned under his mask as he watched Peter dramatically sag his shoulders before he walked closer to Wade again, from where he'd fidgeted and paced away to.

"I have so many questions." Wade announced in a scandalous whispery voice.

Peter grinned in response and he glanced down at his phone screen before he said,

"Well, I gotta' go, so you only get, uh, let's make it three." he lifted his hand; his pinky, index and middle finger raised.

Wade was momentarily stunned he was getting to ask any, but he didn't let that stop him,

"You listen to ACDC? Gotta' say, that's a surprise, had you pegged as more of a Macklemore or Drake fan."

Peter smiled, laughing breathily, seemingly amused,

"Macklemore is cool." Wade agreed with a nod, "I'm not fussy though, I kinda' just like music in general." his smile faded for a moment, replaced with a sad frown before becoming a sad smile, "But, uh, ACDC was sort of Tony's favourite band, and the ringtone kinda' reminds me of him. He loved old rock and roll music, you know." and he sounded so fond and soft that Wade didn't even feel offended by the fact that Peter called it 'old' music. Being 49 years old (albeit only in number), it was music Wade had considered relevant when he'd listened to it in his early teens.

He chose not to ask about Stark, it seemed like it was apparently still a sore spot for Peter; as it was, the death of Tony Stark was regularly commemorated, making it difficult to avoid the man's memory.

He decided instead to move on to his next question,

"Early dinner at a fancy restaurant, with someone back from Paris? Sounds important." he wasn't usually one to ask personal questions, let alone to get answers, but he wanted to see if Peter would really let him know more about him just for the asking.

And it seemed he would because he answered easily and without hesitation,

"Yeah, Pepper and Morgan were out of the country for the last few months, now they're back and she's invited us, uh, my aunt, Happy and me, to dinner in Manhattan to, you know, catch up or whatever." he shrugged nonchalantly.

But Wade was a little stuck,

"P-Pepper, as in, Pepper Potts?" he was as surprised and confused as he sounded.

Peter seemed to realize what he'd said was a bit shocking, and he explained,

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm so used to everyone knowing who I'm talking about." he shook his head, "Yeah, Pepper Potts-Stark and Morgan Stark, she's Pepper and Tony's daughter, uh, duh." he tipped his head, mask lenses shifting briefly, and Wade imagined he'd just rolled his eyes at himself, "And uh, Happy Hogan, he was Tony's friend and asset manager," he smirked like he was telling some inside joke, "for the Avengers. He's been dating my Aunt for a few years, so…" he trailed off, still smiling and Wade had only a moment to try to absorb all that before Peter said, "…and that's your three questions."

Wade snapped back and frowned,

"Hey, no, not fair, that last one was like a mini question after the main question." he didn't even stop Peter as the younger super reached out and took his phone out of his hand,

"You mean a sub-question?" Peter asked sounding amused as he started tapping on Wade's phone very casually, "But yeah, okay, ask your third question." he offered distractedly before Wade could respond to the correction, not looking up from whatever he was doing.

And being given so much leniency in asking personal questions, Wade's mind raced trying to think of what to ask. Sure, he was curious about how very, very involved in Stark's life and family Peter apparently was, but while the answers would be informative, they'd also be fucking boring. And he'd already asked two boring questions. He needed to make the third one good, as if it were his last wish from a genie, it had to be super rewarding.

His eyes widened, the perfect question coming to mind just when he heard ACDC start to play again. It was for only a moment though, before Peter tapped the screen of Wade's phone and ended the call, which meant Wade now officially had Peter –aka Spider-Man's- personal number. Holy fuck-o-moly.

"So, what's your third question?" Peter asked, holding the phone back out to Wade.

Wade took the device, glanced at the contact listed in his phone as Peter -with the spider emoji next to it- and then he looked at Peter, amazed that this was all real, and just went ahead and asked,

"Can I touch your ass, please?" cue the 'bzt' sound of Spidey's mask eye lenses widening, before Wade explained, "It's like the number one thing I've always wanted to do for the longest time, and I know that's creepy considering how you were a minor when I first wanted to touch it, but I didn't know that you were a minor at the time, and now that it's entirely legal for me to want to touch your ass, I'd very, very much like to do that, if it's alright with you." he finished with a throat clearing, before glancing off to the side and whisper-muttering 'what the fuck' when he realized what an idiot he was for asking such a thing.

Peter's visible skin was bright red again, eye lenses still wide and his mouth quirked as if he wanted to say something, and Wade was quite sure he was about to be told a definitive and curt 'hell no', but then those pretty lips slowly curved upward into a smile that was quite mischievous,

"Technically, that's a request, not a question. But I'll tell you what-…" Peter's voice was playful, almost teasing as he took a step backwards, still smiling, still blushing, "…ask me again the next time I see you." he took another step back, and another.

Wade made a face and groaned dramatically,

"When's that gonna' be?" he very nearly stomped his foot like a child, because by some miracle Spidey wasn't mad at his dumbass question and he'd been so close touching the butt.

Peter was taking more steps backward toward the roof's edge, his lean body slinking further away,

"You've got my number, Wade. You let me know." he said suddenly sounding sweet and almost shy, shrugging with a bounce in his step before he turned and hopped up onto the ledge. And oh, hoho, he was coy and clever and sexy and such a sweet fucking tease, because now he knew Wade would contact him if he wanted to touch the butt; which, of-fucking-course he did. Sneaky Spidey.

"Bye, Wade!" he said all chipper-like, then pulling down his mask right before he front-flipped off the building like the graceful and agile, sexy little fucker that he was, disappearing for a moment before a web line whipped up to stick to another building and the younger super arched back up into sight a moment later with a 'whoop', before disappearing again around the corner of that same building.

And Wade, well, Wade was a man who'd very recently woken out of an emotional coma and was now starved as fuck. He was not about to pass up even a moment that he could spend with Peter, especially not if he got to get his hands on that perfectly toned ass. It was too late to keep worrying about getting too close and potential regrets, they'd started already...

So, right where he stood, he looked at his phone and opened a new text to Peter, tapping out a quick message and sending it without preamble.

It read:

hi bb boi, meet up afta ur dinner

tonight? You like frozen yogurt?

U touch my butt, I touch urs? <3333

Followed by a skull emoji, poop emoji and a capital L.

He slipped his phone into one of his pouches then and made the running leap back over to the slightly taller building rooftop he'd been on before. He had to catch the ledge and pull himself up, but he managed to not fall, which saved him a lot of time and suit cleaning.

His pizza was a lost cause though, covered in ants as it was after standing open for so long, and his soda was probably flat. And it might have annoyed him if it wasn't for the fact that his phone buzzed with a received message from Peter, just about seven minutes after he'd sent his text.

Peter's message included the name of a Frozen Yogurt bar in Queens and the time to meet, followed by:

Only if there's no spandex.

And a winky face. Wade considered what Peter probably meant by that, and he knew it was likely that Peter wanted to meet up sans their super suits; masks included. The younger super probably wanted it to be Peter and Wade meeting up, not Spider-Man and Deadpool, or Peter and Deadpool. Of course, and unfortunately, that wasn't an option for Wade. It'd been too long that he'd been isolated and hiding behind his mask for him to go back to how he used to just walk around in a hoodie with just the hood pulled up. He wasn't ready to face the stares again.

But he could compromise and compensate for the fact that he couldn't go out bare faced.

He didn't ever really bother to dress up or clean himself up beyond the basic, necessary hygiene of one shower a day (two if it he got bloody) and brushing his teeth. That was basically it for him, but he would make some effort for Peter.

Peter had only just climbed into his bedroom window when he could no longer wait to check his phone, which he'd felt vibrate. Usually he would have checked his messages while swinging, but he was in a hurry to get home and clean himself up for dinner and text messages could wait.

Except it occurred to him two minutes from home that it might be Wade, even though it seemed unlikely and silly that it would be so soon. Still, he'd been too impatient and eager not to check, and true enough he was right, it was the older man who'd texted…and had asked him out?

It sounded like it might be that, and man, after Wade holding him, being pressed up against Wade like that, Wade who had such a firm, muscled body –that Peter had no idea he could feel so attracted to-, and after feeling the reaction Wade had to him, after being so close…close enough to kiss if it hadn't been for Wade's mask...shit, Peter really wanted it to be a date. And maybe he was getting ahead of himself when he still wasn't sure exactly how much he could handle or what he was ready for, but the feeling of wanting something was making him impulsive.

Not letting himself overthink anything, he shot a quick text back to Wade of where they could meet, followed by an indirect request to meet out of their super suits, because he really wanted to see Wade. He wanted to meet him properly, because the sincere, monogamously inclined side of him hoped one date would eventually become dating if it went well, which he honestly thought it would. Their personalities seemed compatible so far. Still, though, dating a man was already a strange and new concept for him, considering he'd only recently discovered he wasn't exclusively heterosexual, but deciding to date a man whose face he hadn't yet seen would be way too strange.

He had to know who Wade was, the person under the suit, not just Deadpool.

Abruptly remembering he had somewhere to be, Peter tossed his phone on to his bed and de-suited with a quick press of the spider symbol on his chest, which released the nano-based spandex material from clinging to him. It was a feature that Tony had designed in the original material suit, and Peter favored it so he'd kept it when making subsequent suit designs over the years.

As he went about grabbing a towel and rushing into his bathroom to shower, his thoughts remained on Wade, making him role his eyes at himself and shake his head because he felt silly. He couldn't deny he was surprised at himself for how quickly a very definable attraction to Wade had developed in him. It happened much faster, and almost irrationally, when compared to his previous attractions to Liz and then MJ, and even other pretty girls that he'd met and liked fleetingly over the years. And he had to wonder about it, because obviously this meant he was bisexual –if he had to put a label on it- but did his quick, heated, and frankly startlingly strong, attraction to Wade mean he had a preference for men and he'd never realized it? There was no way though, right? Surely he'd have noticed something like that.

He'd been running the shower for the water temperature to settle, and once it had he stepped in, letting the hot spray soak into his skin and flatten his sweaty hair for a minute, before he began to wash himself. And he snorted softly as he washed his hair, thinking that at least after this time of seeing and getting close to Wade, there was no blood to wash away.

He frowned after that thought, as he ran his hands over his hair and down over his face, thinking of how after that blood-soaked meeting where Deadpool had run off, he'd been so adamant that he was going to just forget the mercenary, since the man had seemed totally uninterested. And Peter had been working on convincing himself that Deadpool was bad news; after all, superheroes had no business socializing with mercenaries…

But the moment he'd woken up from his brief smoke-inhalation fainting spell on that rooftop and had seen Deadpool there, trying to help him, all of his built-up resolve had shattered, and he'd just felt happy to see the man again, and happy to know he cared enough to have come over to check on him. Happy to still feel the calm of his spider-senses around such a dangerous individual, and to hear the smile in Wade's voice when talking to him.

He was also happy with himself, for having been brave enough to take the opportunity to get close to Wade again, which had led to clearing up whatever had been making Wade hold back. And he'd thought about being in Wade's arms so many times over the past weeks, and so being back in the man's arms, even closer than before, with his own arms around Wade's neck and the man's large hands so low on his back...it'd felt good. Thinking of it right then felt good, too, and also a little like he was taking a risk, just as he'd felt earlier when he'd thought that he wouldn't have minded Wade's hands going lower.

And when Wade had plainly asked to touch his ass, Peter's mind and pulse had raced...

He'd had no idea he could even think so boldly, let alone tease Wade like he had before he'd left the man standing on the rooftop. He was surprising himself more and more, and presently his face was red and hot again, heart beating faster and body responding to some residual arousal lingering from earlier; arousal primarily from feeling that Wade hadn't been lying when he'd said he would get a boner.

And while Peter had seen glances of penises in public restrooms and gym locker rooms, and even erections in straight porn, it was a very different experience having one actually pressed against his stomach, especially with how thin their suits were and the fact that he was attracted to the person attached to the erection.

He'd been consciously and subconsciously thinking about what it all meant for him since first realizing he was attracted to Wade that night in the Bronx; thinking about what sex with another man would be like, the logistics of it, thinking over what he theoretically knew about it verses what it would actually be like in practice. And he'd expected, when considering ever going that far with another man, to feel more apprehensive about actually getting so intimately acquainted with another man's body sexually. And yet, when he and Wade had been close enough to kiss earlier and he'd been able to feel Wade's body against his own, and Wade's erection against his stomach, all he'd felt was nervous anticipation and a lot of heated curiosity.

He sighed presently, causing a fine spray of water from his nose and lips where his head was ducked down under the fall of water. It was cascading over his hair, the sides of his face, his shoulders and neck, and down over his legs, rinsing away all the body wash he'd soaped himself up with, and he took in a deep breath through his nose to calm his racing mind, exhaling after as he kept his eyes closed. He could feel he was partially hard, his cock having thickened a bit, and his stomach was knotted up just slightly, too, as he processed his new and scary feelings of attraction to Wade; how quickly it'd developed and with such an intensity.

He wanted to analyze the heck out of it, wanted to know what was different about this attraction, wanted to understand whether it was that it was because he liked Wade in particular for some reason, or whether he'd been latently inclined toward some level of same sex attraction since puberty. He had missed five years of normal growth after all, having blipped back into a world where he was both a teenager and not at the same time.

And even before that, his life had been chaotic. Being Spider-Man since fourteen had taken up almost all of his attention, everything that he'd tried to cling to that classified as 'normal' for an average teenage boy had been overshadowed by being Spider-Man. He'd liked Liz pre-Spider-Man, though, so Spider-Man's life had had no influence on that attraction. But liking MJ had been almost sort of…expected? Seeing as how she was the only girl he'd really known in school that he'd been any kind of close to, so it'd made sense to him, and then she'd figured and found out he was Spider-Man and he'd thought at the time, that that was even more perfect! He'd felt that it would have made everything so much easier…

And it had, but only for a while.

He let out a heavy breath as he shut the water off, having gone from aroused to somber to feeling exhausted in the span of his twenty-minute shower. He reminded himself again then that he had somewhere to be, before realizing he'd taken too much time showering and he cursed as he rushed to get out of the shower cubicle, having to stick his feet to the tiles as he hopped out since he almost slipped.

Showering had taken longer than he'd meant it to, but brushing his teeth went fairly quick. Still, in the end he worried about running late because what actually took the longest was the process of finding a button-down shirt that didn't look too wrinkled –because he really didn't want to iron the damn thing. But he'd known all along he would end up having to because Peter Parker did not do folding or hanging up his clothes in any way that could be considered neat or tidy.

So, after searching in vain, he settled on a dark navy-blue, long sleeve button-down, and he decided to wear that over a T-shirt, vetoing the idea of a dinner jacket – of which he only owned one- because it seemed too formal. After ironing everything, including a pair of his lesser worn black jeans –were you supposed to iron jeans?- he got dressed quickly, buttoning up the shirt to hide the 'May the (F=mdv/dt) Be With You' white text on the front of his black T-shirt.

He had twenty-five minutes to get done by the time he was ready to tackle his hair and Peter found himself staring into the full-length mirror inside his wardrobe, taking in his reflection. He was fully dressed, sans shoes and with untamed damp hair, when it occurred to him that the jeans he was wearing were a little tighter than he usually preferred, hence the reason they were barely worn.

They were a pair he hadn't bothered to wear since the first few dates he went on with MJ so long ago. They were his good jeans, expensive ones, a pair of fitted Levi's, and he'd subconsciously chosen to wear them because he knew they made his legs looks good…made his butt look damn good too, according to MJ at least.

Eyes widening in mild embarrassment of himself, he turned his attention to his wild nest of hair and blew out a slow breath, trying to shake off the onset of nervousness. He really wanted his frozen yogurt hang out to be a date, and it was showing through in his actions without him even realizing it. He just hoped May wouldn't scrutinize him too closely, since she'd asked him to dress up but was likely to not really be expecting anything from him besides a flannel shirt, some clean jeans and the single pair of leather dress boots he owned.

"I'll tell her it's because of Pepper and Morgan, because we haven't seen them in a long time." he muttered to himself, and began the process of taming his hair in a way he hadn't bothered to do since the time he and MJ first started dating. He didn't have much hair product anymore these days though, so it didn't look quite as neat by the time he was done, but it'd do, as long as he didn't get caught in a sudden gust of ruthless wind.

He was basically done then, with only ten minutes to spare, so without thinking too much about it, he applied his deodorant stick, followed by what he thought was a reasonable amount of his rarely used cologne –a gift from May that he forgot about most of the time-, and after putting on his dress boots, he rushed out of his apartment.

He hastily pocketed his wallet and keys as he made his way down the stairs and out of his apartment building the normal way. He figured he probably wouldn't make it to May's apartment by the time she'd told him to, but the good thing was that May and Happy didn't live very far from him so he wouldn't be too late. Bonus, he managed to hail a cab almost immediately after he rushed out of the building.

He spent the cab ride patting his hair down somewhat frequently so it remained presentable as the product dried, and in the end, at just about six minutes late, he was out of the cab and running up the walkway to the front door of the house May and Happy lived in his Queens, where he rang the doorbell.

May and Happy had moved in together a while back and Happy had insisted on buying a house. May, of course, had insisted he didn't buy something overly expensive, and after working for Tony for so many years, Happy was pretty well off, so he could have bought a bigger house in a fancier part of NY. But to appease May, they'd settled on a nice two-story house in Kew Gardens, on a suburban-esque street. Peter himself lived in Astoria, in an affordable, but still nice, apartment on the top floor of five story apartment building. It was a one-bedroom apartment, not big, but also not small and it had working utilities all year around and a building super who didn't slack off.

And Peter took care of his apartment, he liked his apartment…and thinking of that as he stood at May and Happy's door, he suddenly wondered where Wade lived; how far from Queens? Maybe even in Queens? Close to Peter? Maybe Peter would invite him around to his place, he hadn't had anyone visit him besides May and Happy since MJ broke up wi-

The door swung open and Peter refocused to find Happy smiling at him,

"Peter, hey," the man stepped back to let him inside, giving him a once over at the same time, "looking spiffy, kid." Happy commented with a smirk. Peter had just closed the door behind himself and he turned to face Happy in the entrance hall with a small frown,

"Come on, Happy, I'm 24, man, I'm not a kid."

Happy just snorted,

"Or you're 19." he reminded and Peter grimaced, but Happy ignored it to remind him, "Either way, I'm 52 years old, Pete, to me you'll always be a kid." reaching out to pat Peter's shoulder once before pushing him lightly to go inside.

Peter sighed, shoulders sagging as he let the older man push him toward the living room. He was trying not to think of the fact that everyone older than him always saw him as a kid, and the fact that Wade was older than him, although Peter had no idea how much older. But surely Wade didn't think of him as a kid just because he was younger, especially not after that afternoon. Peter blinked and shook himself mentally to clear away those thoughts before they could fluster him. It was not the time and certainly not the place.

"May's almost ready." Happy informed him, pulling on a dinner jacket over his white dress shirt.

Peter walked over to the nearest sofa with a huff,

"She told me to rush here. I was literally coming from an explosion, and now she's not ready." he grumbled and sat down,

"You were saying?" he sprang back up like a shot when May walked into the room, eyebrow hiked up.

"Hey, May." Peter flashed his most loving nephew smile at her as she gave him a 'look', but in the next second she was smiling as she approached and it never failed to make Peter feel at home and like he belonged more than when she was hugging him and kissing his cheek.

"You look beautiful, babe." Happy said to her with a smile as she walked over to grab up her purse and some other things off a nearby room divider. And yes, she did look very nice but,

"Babe? Ew, Happy. no, please, just no." Peter made a grossed-out face at the man.

May laughed lightheartedly and Peter loved that she was so happy,

"Am I not hot enough to be considered a babe?" she asked with raised eyebrows, "Or a, uh, what's it called?" she looked up from her purse, "A MILF?"

Peter spluttered, face red,

"What, no! You're not. I mean, I don't mean you're not pretty but..." well this was awful, "Ugh, oh my God, MILF, May, what- it's –you're, do you even know…"

"She's a babe to me." Happy interrupted his grossed out sputtering as he went over to a smiling May, held her lightly and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, honey." May responded, smiling up at him.

It was both gross and heartwarming to see them so happy.

"Calm down, Peter, you look like your face is about to light on fire." May laughed good naturedly, "Did MJ never call you babe?" she asked, and she was teasing, Peter knew. May knew MJ wasn't a sore spot for him, not in the way exes usually were. They'd both loved her and considered her family.

Still, the answer was no, MJ had never called him babe, or honey, or sweetheart. She'd called him tiger sometimes, which honestly, Peter never really understood why or where that nickname had come from. Had she just been fond of the phrase? Peter was hardly comparable to a jungle cat, not in behavior or appearance. Least of all in super abilities. He'd liked it well enough though, despite wondering sometimes if it was intended as teasing and ironic. Also, he'd never called her any pet names either.

Wade though, Wade called him Baby Boy, and somehow it never sounded like he meant it with reference to Peter's age. The tone of Wade's voice when he said it was always just the right amount of…something. But whatever it was, it was not a platonic nickname.

And Peter liked it. He really did.

"Peter, you okay, honey?" May asked, standing near enough now to reach out and push a strand of his loose hair back into place with her nails, before she tapped his cheek lightly, "You look a little dazed. You said you were okay earlier," now she looked concerned, "did the smoke-"

"No, no, I'm fine, May I promise." he rushed to reassure her.

"You sure?" Happy asked, also looking concerned, "You kind of spaced out there."

Peter nodded quickly, looking between them,

"Yeah, no, I'm fine, I'm just -just tired." he used it as an excuse. Although he was actually tired, that was hardly the reason for his day dreaming.

May regarded him a moment longer before she nodded,

"Okay, well," she started walking toward the front door, a hand on Peter's arm pulling him along, "let me know if you don't feel well, okay? Smoke inhalation is very bad." she said worriedly.

"He's got a healing factor, May, don't worry too much." Happy informed as he followed behind.

"Healing factor?" Peter asked, feeling suddenly like he'd heard the term before, but wher- oh, right, Wade. Wade had used that term. Peter had been too distracted to ask about it before, but now that he was taking notice of it, he realized Wade had used it more than once.

"Is that like the thing where he heals faster than normal?" May asked just after him, all three of them walking outside.

Happy nodded, talking as he locked up the house,

"Yeah, that's what SHIELD calls it anyway." he turned to face them, the trio making their way down the side path to Happy's car; a new Audi model. Happy also kept up certain mementos of Tony Stark. "I've come across the term in a couple of files over the years. It was mostly used amongst mutants until recently. It's starting to catch on amongst mutates now, too." Happy unlocked the car with the remote and very gentlemanly, he opened the passenger side door for May.

Once they were all seated inside, Peter in the back seat sitting behind May, Happy reversed out of the driveway.

Five minutes into the trip, Peter's mind was stuck on the questions of whether Wade knowing that term meant the mercenary was a mutant, or whether he somehow knew about it because he was affiliated with SHIELD somehow. In the end, he couldn't contain his curiosity,

"So, like, who?" he asked, not having actually met any mutants in his life besides Wanda, and wondering about which mutates besides himself had these healing factors.

"Hm, what?" Happy frowned at him via the rearview mirror.

"I mean, whose files have you seen, these people with, uh, healing factors?"

"Well, you probably don't know the mutants, and neither do I actually." Happy admitted, but he looked contemplative before he said, "The people that we know with healing factors, besides you?" Peter nodded for him to go on with a glance at the mirror, "Uh, not many, it's pretty much just Banner, or, you know, the Hulk more specifically, and Captain Marvel."

Peter raised his eyebrows,

"Really? What about Cap-uh, Steve Rogers? And the Winter Soldier?"

Happy shrugged facially, focusing on the road now as they entered more traffic,

"Not considered to be a healing factor. They're superhuman, so I think it's just considered advanced healing." he frowned, "Honestly, it gets pretty confusing."

"I'll say." May commented, watching the traffic as they drove.

Peter wondered about it quietly, knowing that he healed pretty damn fast, definitely faster than Steve and Bucky...so maybe there was a difference. He figured he should let the subject drop though, since he didn't really know any mutants and only a few mutates.

But then Happy said,

"I'll tell you something freaky though," he was smiling a bit and Peter and May both looked at him with expectant expressions, "there's a classified list of individuals with healing factors that SHIELD have marked as 'Special Circumstances', due to how advanced their healing factors are." Peter frowned but Happy kept talking before he could ask, "I haven't seen the list myself, but Tony did a few years back. He told me that the list wasn't very long, but that it was a good thing it wasn't, because some of the individuals on that list could survive almost anything. As in, they are almost considered immortal."

"Immortal? Is that possible? How is that possible?" May asked, frowning now as well.

"Well, he couldn't tell me much," Happy shrugged, "he wasn't supposed to be talking about it at all. I think he was just freaked out by it." understandably so, Peter was a little freaked out too, wondering if any of those people were villains, "But in the past years, some of those classified individuals have become known to the Avengers, so it's less of a big secret these days." Happy shrugged again. "I remember Tony and Cap had scheduled an Avengers meeting once, the directive came down from SHIELD. I think you were in school that day, Pete." he met Peter's eyes via the mirror briefly, "It was a meeting on mutants and mutates to avoid ever going head to head with if possible. Serious stuff."

"Are you even allowed to talk about this stuff?" May asked, sounding concerned and disapproving, while Peter was processing what Happy just said, realizing that such a warning meant that some of those classified individuals were villains, or at least not necessarily good guys.

Happy looked mildly offended and a little worried,

"No, I'm not really, but Peter is an Avenger. And he's basically Tony's successor." he said as if that was a powerful status of some kind, and yeah, maybe it was, but Peter still felt a rush of shock and anxiety whenever he heard the words 'Tony's successor' directed at him, '"and anyway, I trust you, you're not going to tell anyone, are you?" Happy asked May.

May sighed,

"No, of course I won't. Still, though, what if these special circumstances individuals don't want anyone knowing who they are? Are they dangerous?" she frowned deeper.

"I'll say, a lot of em' are bad guys from what Tony said in that meeting. Like, villain-level bad."

"Wha-?" Peter exhaled at the same time as May said,

"Oh my God. Stop talking about this." she sighed again and then she looked back at Peter suddenly before looking at Happy crossly, "Shouldn't Peter know who they are, for his own safety?"

Peter cleared his throat,

"Uh, yeah, I mean, I've never heard of any of em.'" he piped up, "Do I have to watch out for them here in New York." he asked, a little concerned now, because if the Avengers were warned not to go toe-to-toe with these people, this was probably something Peter had to know about, whether he'd decide to fight them or not.

Happy seemed a little tense now too, sighing as he made a left turn,

"I don't know any of their names, Pete, I'm not an Avenger nor am I a SHIELD agent." he said reasonably, "But you should check with E.D.I.T.H, whatever Tony knew and thought you should know, she'll know." he advised, and Peter realized that was actually a great idea.

"Yeah, you're right, thanks Happy."

"If that doesn't work, you could always just call Fury." the man added and Peter made a face,

"Uh..." he didn't like that idea at all.

"And whoever they are," May interrupted, "you do as Tony Stark, or SHIELD, or whoever, said and you do not try to fight them alone, Peter. Do you hear me?" she said in her 'no bullshit' tone of voice, looking back at him over her shoulder.

Peter found himself conceding verbally, even though he doubted he would actually be able to follow through on that if he ran into one of these healing factor bad guys and they were trying to hurt someone. He'd be compelled to fight; it was what superheroes were supposed to do.

"May's right, some of those guys are really bad news." Happy tacked on, "Tony was freaked out for a reason, Peter. I doubt they're everyday weirdos in a mechanical flight suit, or even bigger mad scientist weirdos hiding behind a drone army illusion. Those were humans." he made references to Peter's past enemies, and it made his stomach clench up. "But the people on that list are the sort that can't be put down easily, if at all, and not permanently even if you managed to once or twice. They always get back up and end up coming back. So, once you get that list, memorize it, and steer clear." he warned, sounding quite serious now, "Anyone, especially a bad guy, who can regrow their head, is bad news."

Peter and May, were both shocked by that statement, and after he absently muttered an agreement to Happy's warning, it became silent in the car for the rest of the drive. Peter was looking out of the window at the passing people and buildings, but his mind was elsewhere as he decided he'd consult E.D.I.T.H that night after he got home from seeing Wade. He needed to know who was on that list. For his safety, sure, but for the safety of others as well.

He put those thoughts aside though, when they arrived at the restaurant, and he smiled brightly when they approached their reserved table and he saw Pepper and Morgan waiting.

Chapter Text

...no different than anyone else.

Dinner with Pepper and Morgan was great.

There were a lot of smiles and laughter, some even included in the few moments where they all teared up while talking about or mentioning Tony. The food was good and everyone was comfortable and familiar. It was really nice, something special, how there was a very family-like quality to the whole thing. Peter was really enjoying it. It was a little weird too, since he’d only really gotten close to Pepper and Morgan after the blip and Tony’s death, but it still felt like they were some kind of family, which was really nice after so many years of him and May just having one another.

The fact that May had, not only Happy in her life, but also a friendly relationship with Pepper, made Peter feel better knowing she had people she could trust and talk to if she needed someone who wasn’t a young ‘kid’ still figuring his own life out. Their old dynamic had been as stressful for her as it was for him a lot of the time.

But the night and dinner had not been stressful at all, and the time passed quickly with such a good vibe and atmosphere around him, which meant that Peter hadn’t noticed that it was dark outside. Their early dinner had turned into a catch-up session that was running long.

It was when he felt his phone buzz in his jeans pocket that the time finally occurred to him.

He was sitting on one side of the restaurant table with Happy and Morgan. Morgan was in the seat between himself and Happy, while May and Pepper were across from them, next to one another. Pepper and May were discussing some of the placement projects S.I had been funding, while Morgan, who was eight now, was showing Peter and Happy pictures of her trip around Paris on a Stark tablet.

Morgan flipped to a picture of her and Pepper at the Palace of Versailles, and Peter started to tell her what MJ had long ago told him about the disgusting unhygienic state of the palace in the 1600s. He was trying not to laugh at Happy’s disapproving and disturbed expression when he felt his phone buzz, and he muttered a distracted ‘one sec’ to them as he lifted his butt a bit off the seat and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Peter saw the text message pop up displayed on the screen first, seeing the words: got yogurt? with a picture attachment.

“Shit.” he muttered as his eyes flicked to the time in the corner of his screen, seeing that it was 7.37 PM.

“Peter.” May scolded and he glanced at her, uttering an automatic apology as he opened the text to see a picture of a black gloved hand holding up a colorfully filled yogurt cup.

Shit indeed. He had told Wade 7.30 and he’d completely lost track of time and now he was running late and the yogurt place was at least 20 minutes away by cab.

‘Great. This is MJ all over again! I can’t even make it to a damn date on time.’ he sighed a bit loudly, feeling frustrated. He quickly texted Wade back, saying he was running late, that he was sorry and to please wait, he’d be there as soon as he could. He had no idea what his face looked like right then but when he looked up from his phone, everyone at the table was looking at him with varying degrees of curiosity and concern.

He blinked at each of them in quick turns and settled on May when she asked,

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

And he hated to do to it, he really did, because Pepper and Morgan were important, but he needed to meet Wade as fast as he could. Because having a date, his first date since MJ left him, well…it was important too, right? It had already been such a damn mission getting the older super to stick around as it was!

So he had to do it, he had to bail.

Sitting up straight, ready to spring from his seat, he put on his best apologetic expression,

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I have to go. I was supposed to meet someone, and I lost track of time and now I’m late and I’m gonna’ have to catch a cab, and it’s all the way in Queens, so yeah, really, so, so late.” he sighed after rattling off his explanation, frowning and swallowing awkwardly at everyone’s raised eyebrows as they stared at him. “I’m really sorry,” he said again, then went for broke sincerity, “it’s uh, it’s really important to me and I just, I just – I mean, this,” he gestured around the table with his free hand, voice getting a little scratchy with rising guilt and mild panic, “is important too, but I-…”

“Peter,” Pepper cut him off calmly, her tone kind and amused, and she was smiling when she said, “it’s okay. We got to see you tonight, and luckily you didn’t even have any interruptions.” she was referring to the hero thing, “And besides, we’re back in New York for the month, we’ll see each other again.” she excused, “You should go, meet your friend.” she gestured toward the exit of the restaurant.

May was smiling now as well as she said,

“I was wondering why you were all dressed up and wearing cologne.” she commented teasingly and Peter made a face and hung his head, groaning softly, because of course May had noticed!

“He does look very handsome, doesn’t he?” Pepper added, both women thoroughly enjoying how he had started to blush. Feeling even more awkward, Peter sat up straight again and flailed his hands in the general direction of the exit,

“I’m just, uh, gonna’ go. I’m already late…” he stood up, glancing at his phone when he felt it vibrate again in his hand. He saw a thumbs up emoji followed by a text of; yogurt it bb boi.

He couldn’t help how he grinned at the message and May made an aww sound at the same time as Pepper said ‘look at that smile’, and Peter just looked at them a bit startled, and then he tried not to look at them as he blushed harder,

“Seriously you guys.” he muttered.

Then May asked,

“Do you have cash for a cab?” as she reached for her purse. Peter quickly reached into his back pocket for his wallet,

“Uh, I think so.” he knew he had money on his debit card, but he didn’t usually carry much cash.

“I think we can do better than a cab,” Pepper said, reaching for her purse, “You have your driver’s license, right, Peter?” she asked and everyone, especially Peter, halted and looked at her.

“Y-yeah.” he answered, eyes widening as Pepper held out the keys to her very expensive car and looked at him with an amused smile when she said,

“Then you can take the car for the evening and drop it off tomorrow at the S.I head office.” she raised her eyebrows, “Don’t want you to keep the girl waiting any longer.”

Peter’s breath briefly got stuck in the back of his throat.

May was grinning from ear to ear now and even Happy and Morgan were smiling. Peter’s heart was racing with excitement, but he also felt anxious because of the mention of him going to meet a girl. He swallowed thickly, grateful and nervous and excited all at once as he reached out hesitantly to take the key,

“I-but…uh, what, what about you and Morgan, g-getting home?”

Pepper didn’t even look at Happy when she said,

“Happy will drop us off.”

Peter looked at Happy, expression stuck on excited disbelief, as the man nodded at him,

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Peter exhaled a shocked breath as he grinned, and then he stepped around the table to lean down and hug Pepper,

“This is awesome, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou so much!” he said in a rush, a few people in the restaurant looking over as he gushed, “I really appreciate it, Pepper.” and wow, it had taken a long time for him to be comfortable calling her by her first name. And then, feeling the need to, he was stepping around the table and reaching to hug everyone quickly, even Happy, who said,

“Nothing like a fancy car to impress a girl on a date, huh, Pete.”

He was just hugging Morgan last when Happy said that, but before Peter could say anything, more guilt-panic rising over the fact that their assumptions were that he was going to see a girl, Morgan was pressing a flower from the restaurant table’s vase into his hand,

“Give your girlfriend this, Peter, it’s pretty, she’ll like it.”

He took the flower with twitching fingers, dumbly nodding at Morgan and then May spoke again,

“And drive carefully, I don’t care how good your senses are, mister, pay attention to the road at all times.” she instructed and he nodded dumbly again, starting to back up away from the table. “And no speeding!” Pepper was sitting quietly and smiling, looking very amused as she watched Peter back up further, still nodding, “And make sure you drop the girl off safe at home if she needs a ride, and wait for her to be inside before you drive away, like a proper gentleman.” May added, speaking a little louder as he was now further away from the table.

And hearing May make reference to a girl as well; Pepper, Happy, Morgan and now May as well…his family, all thinking they were sending him off to meet some sweet girl who’d need a lift home afterward, he couldn’t help feeling super shitty about it. About the dishonesty of it, and it made him feel tense and a bit like he was choking, eyes wide as he stared at them.

He knew he couldn’t tell them the full truth, it was just…too much to dump on them out of nowhere, but he could let them know at least one important detail, so he settled for that,

“Thanks everyone, but uh, it’s, it’s not a girl.” he managed to say in a rush, his voice pitching and breaking on those last four words. And then he followed that up with a cowardly exit, turning away from the confused stunned looks on their faces as he said, “Love you guys!” and all but ran out of the restaurant, several other people also staring at him.

He didn’t care though, about what the strangers were thinking, he was panicking about what May, Pepper, Happy and Morgan were thinking. His heart was pounding in his ears as he ran out into the restaurant’s parking lot, heading straight toward the lights that flickered once on a sleek white Audi after he’d pressed the remote button.

‘Why the hell did I say that? I shouldn’t have said anything!’ he scolded himself as he stopped beside the car and opened the door, getting in quickly. He shut the door, pausing for a tense moment to stare out of the windshield at the restaurant entrance. He hated to think that if they’d known he was meeting a guy that they would have all been far less helpful and accommodating. He didn’t think for a moment that they were homophobic or even just that judgmental. Yet, he’d still run away.

He shook his head then,

“No, it’s fine, everything’s fine.” he nodded to himself, “Yeah, it’s fine. They were just shocked, obviously. Obviously, they would be.” he told himself, setting the flower that he belatedly remembered he was still holding, onto the dashboard, before he adjusted the seat just a bit to suit his height. And then with one last deep inhale and exhale, he started the car and proceeded to navigate and drive out of the parking lot.

And after a while, once he was actually out of the range of the restaurant and heading into traffic, Peter couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face as he refocused his mind on where he was going. He was about to see Wade again, and it was –maybe…probably?- a date, their first date!

He was so nervous and so excited and it felt good to feel happy and to anticipate something again after so long of not looking for any kind of connection with someone, least of all a romantic one.

“Okay, Parker, you can do this…just be cool, be cool.” he nodded to himself, and if he maybe sped a little in his haste to get there…

…well, May would never know.

Just two cars down from the yogurt bar along the street curb, there was an open parking space, so Peter, not wanting to park any further down and waste more time, seeing as how he was already almost an hour late, quickly parked in the available spot. For once his Parker Luck was not screwing him over at least.

Car switched off, he was about to get out when he was struck by a surge of nervous butterflies and a wave of self-consciousness. And in his somewhat hasty, panicky manner he took stock of himself in the moderately lit space of the car, blinking a few times and muttering an ‘okay’ before he unbuttoned the over-shirt he was wearing, so that his T-shirt was visible, before quickly cuffing his hands through his hair to loosen the product.

That took about three more minutes, and then Peter had a further minute of indecision about whether he should be embarrassed about how nerdy his T-shirt was. But he decided on a solid no with quick shake of his head, and he talked out loud to bolster himself,

“It’s fine, this is fine. It’s me, I like Star Wars and science and he should know that about me.” as he made sure he had his wallet and phone in his pockets. “I mean, if we’re gonna’ date, he should....” he paused, fighting down a giddy grin at the prospect of it being a date.

Again, when he remembered the time and how late he was, the smile was wiped off his face pretty fast and Peter got out of the car quickly. It was quite busy considering it was a Friday night, lots of the younger crowd of Queens either passing by the place on their way to other restaurants or stopping in, and Peter didn’t realize what a spectacle it was showing up in an expensive car in that part of Queens until he stepped out onto the curb and shut the door. He was just glad Pepper’s personalized number plate wasn’t as obvious as Tony’s had been.

He paused beside the car, wide eyed, car key in hand with his thumb poised on the lock button, as several people stared, glanced or somehow made notice of him in that moment. Of course, he wasn’t much to look at when compared to the fancy car he’d shown up in, so everyone’s attention and murmurs soon shifted to the car. And Peter, trying not to frown or look any more awkward than he felt, locked the car and then headed across the curb and into the shop as normally as possible.

Inside wasn’t crowded at least, just comfortably busy, and so it was easy to spot…Deadpool. And Deadpool it was. Peter had been set to grin at the older man, but his smile remained just a moderate curve of his lips as disappointment settled in. He turned and approached Deadpool, whose mask was firmly in place, where the man was standing at a table near the back window of the shop.

He’d likely noticed Peter through the window, because when Peter walked in, he’d stood up immediately, hands in his black jacket pockets, a jacket which was worn over a grey hoodie. His mask expressed that he was smiling and after weaving around a few tables, a happy bounce in his step despite feeling disappointed at Wade being masked, Peter came to stand in front of the taller man at a normal, appropriate distance.

Peter did wonder about why the older super was wearing layers of clothes even though the weather was really warm; a jacket, a zip up hoodie –with the hood up and zipper all the way up too- probably over a T-shirt. His jeans were almost black and on his feet were white and purple Chuck Taylors. Everything he was wearing looked newish though, which was some consolation, because even though he was still wearing his mask, at least Wade had made the effort to get dressed up somewhat, just as Peter had.

“Hey.” Peter said from the two feet distance he’d stopped at.

“Hey, yourself.” Wade said back, sounding too neutral somehow, like he was greeting in the most standard way possible. And Peter, realizing that he was being socially inept at dating again, overcompensated by taking a quick step forward, just so he was standing inside of Wade’s personal space bubble, in an attempt to make their greeting more personal.

Wade, for his part, didn’t move anything besides his head, which he inclined a bit more so he was looking down at Peter after he’d stepped closer.

And Peter, wanting to fill the silence, said again,

“Hey,” and then he fidgeted with his hands at his sides as the scenario of apologizing played itself out negatively in his mind, even as he was saying, “Sorry I’m so late, s’just, uh, there was a lot of talking and catching up, and I just…” he paused, hesitating to say what he’d said to MJ so often, “I forgot, I’m sorry.” he finished, smile fading.

He was thinking about how his inability to ever be on time to functions and dates had been one of the factors in MJ’s leaving him, and now here he was, starting off this thing –whatever it was or might be- on the same wrong foot. And he wished he could see Wade’s face right then, not just to know what he looked like, but also so he could see whether Wade had the same offended, disappointed and exasperated look on his face that MJ always had.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m not exactly punctual myself.” Wade brushed it off, a smile on his face under that damn mask, “And besides, I had like three free yogurt cups from your fans,” he added quietly, gesturing to the empty yogurt cups on the table beside them, “because a few people thought I was Spider-Man,” he pointed to his mask, “so they bought me frozen yogurt and I posed for some pics with em’.” he sounded amused.

Peter was frowning, confused,

“Wha-…how did they think you were m-uh, Spider-Man? Your mask is nothing like Spider-man's.” he glanced around to see if anyone was listening, but they weren’t, which was likely why Wade said.

“Forget the mask, are you kidding? You’re literally a whole head shorter than me and really on the smol sid- ouchie!” Wade yelped briefly, before snickering after Peter had jabbed him quickly but solidly on the front of his shoulder with a fist.

Peter gave him the most indignant look he could muster as his said,

“Dude, ‘m’not that short.” he said quietly enough that no one would hear, “And I’m not small either.”

What came next stalled Peter’s brain, because for all that he thought he was ready for proper flirting from Wade, he was proven very wrong when Wade’s voice became low and dark in a decidedly sexy way, the older man leaning closer to say,

“Hm, I quite like that you’re smaller than me, Baby Boy, it’s perfect for those hot, spontaneous quickies up against walls and other convenient vertical surfaces.”

And Peter maybe should have felt a bit offended by how forward that entire sentence was, but considering what he’d learned of Wade so far and what had happened on the roof of the building earlier in the day, he’d be a fool not to expect the man to say something so…so…

Well, let’s just say Peter couldn’t help picturing that scenario, despite having never been with another man –heck, he’d never even had sex with MJ anywhere besides on a bed or sofa. Still, the image came fairly easily to his mind. He stood stock still for a moment, mouth having fallen open slightly, body feeling a tad too warm as the idea flashed through his mind.

But the vivid contrast of the Deadpool suit against his own bare, fair skin in his imagination took the heat out of the whole thing. Peter blinked and lowered his gaze from Wade’s mask as a stream of conflicting thoughts and emotions flooded his mind and made his chest feel tight. Wade didn’t notice, because he’d returned back to his normal behavior and he slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders, easily turning him around and leading him toward the counter while talking about ordering him a frozen yogurt taste sensation.

Peter just nodded as he walked along, but in his mind he was thinking about the fact that he didn’t know Deadpool’s age, or his race, or the colour of his eyes or hair. And while none of those things mattered to him in the end, because he could assume Wade was older than him by five years or more -that was a no brainer-, and his race didn’t matter, nor did his eye or hair colour, but still, knowing those things were all a part of knowing someone. Even on blind dates, you saw the person when the dating actually started. He’d seen Wade four times as of that meet up right then, and yet he still hadn’t even seen so much as a sliver of the man’s skin.

Abruptly it occurred to Peter that Wade was in civvies right then, and while he was pretty heavily covered up, his hands wouldn’t be, right?

Peter glanced at Wade’s hand as the man removed it from his pocket...and, Peter was wrong.

Wade was paying for whatever he’d just ordered, his arm outstretched, a $50 dollar note held out to the staff member behind the counter. On his hand was a plain black leather glove. Peter recalled then that the picture Wade had sent earlier of him holding a yogurt cup had included a black gloved hand.

Thinking of that from the picture, and seeing it again, the fact that Wade was wearing gloves, made Peter frown in consideration. Consideration of the times he’d asked about the mask and had been brushed off and evaded, of the fact that everything Wade was wearing right then, up to the gloves and his mask, were all very deliberate, very intentional…it was something that Wade was consciously doing.

Very much on purpose.

He was covered up on purpose…and Peter could only surmise from that, that there was some pre-existing reason for it. After all, Peter wore a full suit and mask to hide his identity. But Deadpool’s identity was no secret as far as he understood, which meant Wade was hiding something else entirely.

There was something under his suit and clothes that he didn’t want anyone seeing, or at least, he didn’t want Peter to see it? That made the most sense now that he thought about it. And while it eased his offended and hurt feelings on Wade’s avoidance, it only increased his curiosity tenfold. Was Wade a mutant? Peter had heard that some mutants didn’t have human skin colouring, and some had non-human features sometimes too. Was that the case? Was Wade a mutant who had less than human-esque features, or maybe he had green or blue skin or something?

“Here you go, Baby Boy, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, blueberry frozen yogurt and blueberries; basically a blueberry cinnamon roll in a cup. Fucking yum!” Wade was saying as he held the frozen yogurt cup out to Peter, who blinked dazedly out of his thoughts and then took the cup with a renewed bright smile,

“Wow, that actually sounds super delicious.” he said truthfully, looking at the sweet, decorated cup. Usually, he just tried more basic things when he ate frozen yogurt, so it was new.

He looked up at Wade then, met the eyes of the older man’s mask, and since the insecurity he’d been feeling about the mask had dissipated, his resolve now centered on being patient and waiting until Wade was ready to reveal himself. Deciding that, Peter felt brave enough to stand up on the tips of his toes –because yes, Wade was a whole head taller than him- and press a quick, very light kiss to the man’s mask just about where his mouth was. And then blushing brightly, Peter ducked his head down to look at his yogurt cup, and quickly spooned a sticky lump of it into his smiling mouth.

The attendant behind the service counter was staring at them, and Peter did his best to ignore this as he hummed his approval at the taste of the treat, but he knew he didn’t want to hang around in shop too long, lest he run into anyone he knew and he was forced to be social when all he wanted right then was to spend time with Wade. He remembered he had the car then and he swallowed quickly before looking up at Wade and taking a step backwards,

“You wanna’ go for a drive?”

Wade, who Peter noted with smug relish, had been staring at him in some sort of dazed state, snapped out of it and stepped toward Peter with an uncoordinated nod,

“Yeah, sounds awful, since this is New York, but still fun to suffer through with you.” he quipped.

Peter huffed a laugh, walking backwards and smiling with all of his teeth. His chest felt warm and he felt giddy and weightless in his stomach, especially from how Wade kept staring at him as though he was all Wade could focus on.

“Maybe we’ll drive through the burbs, at least it won’t be too bad.” he commented, turning to walk forwards again once Wade fell into step with him.

Wade scoffed,

“Until someone calls the cops on our asses for driving by slowly like a couple of creepers.” he said as they walked out of the shop,

“I doubt that’ll happen in this car.” he pointed to the car with his plastic spoon, people going by still glancing and commenting on it.

“Fuck, right, I forgot you showed up in this.” he whistled as he looked at the car, Peter still smiling as he slipped a hand into his pocket and unlocked the doors with a click of the remote button, “This yours, Baby Boy?” Wade asked, sounding unassuming.

The part of Peter that wanted to impress Wade considering lying, but that was just stupid, so instead he said,

“For tonight it is.” as he made his way around to the driver’s side, and that wasn’t a lie. Pepper had said he could use it for the night.

Wade nodded, not pressing, not curious apparently.

“Nice, nice…can I drive?” he asked with his mask’s eyes wide.

Peter continued to grin as he opened the driver’s side door for himself,

“Nope.” he said with a popping ‘p’ before he got into the car, Wade following shortly after and the moment the car doors were closed, Peter decided to be honest about the car, because he was shit at lying or trying to be smooth, “It’s Pepper’s actually, and I’m lucky she let me use it since I was running so late.”

He ate another scoop of his frozen yogurt before setting the cup in the cup holder of the console, and as he pushed the start button of the car he realized Wade was staring at him,

“What?” he asked, owl eyed.

Wade snapped out of his stare and he shook his head,

“Nothing, nothing…just…” Peter waited, hands on the steering wheel as the car idled, “…Pepper Potts-Stark let you use her car, which on its own is pretty wow because she’s practically a celebrity.” Peter felt a little awkward about that, having also felt awkward in the past about the attention he received, both positive and negative, for being a part of the ‘Stark Internship’ when he’d been in high school. But now that he was an adult and so much happened, being a part of the Avengers and Tony technically having been his mentor, he felt so familiar with it all. But Wade mentioning it felt different. “And did she know you were coming to meet me?” Wade asked after a beat, his voice quiet and a little more serious now.

Peter tipped his head to the side, glancing into the side-mirror before finally pulling the car away from the curb as he answered,

“Not you you, as in Deadpool,” and would she even know the name Deadpool? Peter had no idea, “but she knew it was a guy I was coming to meet….” he swallowed tensely, sensing Wade’s eyes on him as he drove into the evening traffic. And Peter decided to see if he could get some clarification out of the conversation, “…and she knew it was a date.” and he honestly tried to let the silence that followed last longer than a few seconds, but he failed epically and asked, “Is this a date? I mean, I want-uh, I’d like it to be but, that’s, it’s, you, uh, do-do you, want it to be?” he felt nauseous with anxiousness now, using the road ahead as an excuse to not even glance in Wade’s direction.

Wade let him stutter all the way to the end of the question, Pepper Pots-Stark forgotten completely because he was a bit stuck on the word date…okay, maybe a lot stuck on the word date, and maybe, maybe in a bad way? Kind of.

Thing was, Wade hadn’t actually ever dated. Back when he’d still been hot and people did double takes at him for nice, not grossed out reasons, it’d been a case of paying for someone’s drink at bars or a club before leaving with them to fuck. Or taking someone out for a fast-food meal before going somewhere to fuck. Or just meeting someone at some time in some place and using a pick-up line and his smile to flirt with them, which 90% of the time would lead to leaving with them to fuck.

Hell, even with Vanessa, the date that started their relationship hadn’t actually been a date-date, because she’d been a hooker at -the formerly known as- Sister Margaret’s. She’d not been the first hooker he’d ever encountered there, but certainly the hottest, and he’d been aiming to get into her pants for free, because back then that was a thing he’d been able to do because he’d been hot. And from the moment he’d looked at her, Vanessa had absolutely known he didn’t want to pay for it.

They’d both just liked each other enough at first sight to play out the ‘date’ thing before ultimately going back to his place to fuck, for free. And then continuously, and with future intent to do it again and again and monogamously because it’d been completely unexpected that they’d clicked way beyond anything Wade could have imagined…

Jesus, he did not want to be thinking about Vanessa, and Jesus’ balls it was fucking depressing to remind himself of the contrast of how often and easily he’d used to get laid compared to how he’d used to get rejected after Vanessa’s death. Where for him now, just the idea of sex with someone made him cringe…or it had, before Peter Parker -aka hot AF Spider-Man- unbelievably, inconceivably, unfathomably decided he was attracted to Wade -aka Deadpool- for some crazy fucking reason.

Maybe Spidey had had a bad head injury at some point and it was making him make really bad choices? Or maybe he was a clone? Or was it a body swap? Was that shit even happening in their universe? Fuck, it didn’t even matter, Wade didn’t even think he was good enough for a reject clone of Spider-Man, let alone the real thing. Maybe it would be best if he just opened the car door and threw himself from the car. Spidey would definitely get the memo then that he was fucking nuts-

Just then Peter cleared his throat and Wade glanced over at him to find he was forcing a small smile on to his face, definitely not one of those real, pretty, cute smiles that Wade definitely preferred, and then in an equally forced tone of voice that was not sassy or as happy as it should have been, Peter started to say,

“So, uh, you wanna’ just drive around?” so obviously just trying to change the subject and Wade clenched his jaw under his mask because he was such a fucking moron, because Peter deserved better but Peter wanted to date him and Peter didn’t deserve to have his date throw himself out of a car on a busy road, “Or, maybe you have something else you wanted to do-…”

“This could be a date.” Wade cut him off. He had to, because insecurity was beginning to seep into Peter’s quiet tone and it made Wade’s teeth grind to know he was causing it.

Of fucking course he wanted it to be a date, he just didn’t know how the fuck to date someone, but he wasn’t anywhere near crazy enough to not want to date fucking Spider-Man!

And he kept thinking he’d be doing Peter a favour by getting lost, but Peter wanted him to be there, so he’d also be hurting Peter by getting lost, and he didn’t even want to get lost because he wanted Spider-Man, but Peter was definitely going to regret all this and fuck it, how was he supposed to do the right thing here? Earlier he’d been thinking selfishly about how this was going to fuck him up and he’d wanted to jump off that fucking building, and then his dick had been thinking about touching Spidey’s ass and he'd asked Peter out, when all along, he should have been thinking about how this was probably going to fuck Peter up because Deadpool wasn’t good for anyone. Wade wasn’t good for anyone either.

But now, when he was finally thinking about how this was going to fuck Peter up, Peter was breaking down his resolve again by smiling a little more happily in that lopsided, super cute way of his, his shoulders no longer looking so tense and the awkward tension in the space of the car easing around them. And it was so confusing for Wade because he wanted to simultaneously remove himself from Peter’s life while also wanting to try to be with Peter, which led to him saying,

“If that’s what you really want, then it’s a date.” and when Peter smiled a little wider, unintentionally looking hella cute as he subtly curled his bottom lip in to chew on it while focusing on the road as he drove, the tips of his ears reddening, Wade’s inability to shut the fuck up kicked in and he rambled out, “And while I have no fucking idea how to date, Petey, I will date the shit out of you, Baby Boy. I will go on all the dates with you, do all the date things, we’ll date like no one has ever dated before, we’ll date with a capital D, I will put the D in date for you any time, any place, anywhere,” and fuck, that one was a little, very fucking, innuendo-y, and Peter clearly thought so too because his neck and cheeks were now starting to get red as well. But despite sounding like a complete idiot, Wade wasn’t even lying, he really meant it, especially when he added, “As long as that is what you really want, as long as you’re supercalifragilisticexpialidociously sure, I-…”

“Yeah, Wade!” Peter cut him off that time, grinning now, voice a little tight with the rise and fall of his emotions, “yes, okay, I…” his tone was tight but no longer awkward, his emotions were good now. He was easy to read, and Wade’s chest felt tight, his own tension mounting while Peter’s decreased, “I mean it okay? I really want that I, uh,” he cleared his throat again as he came to slow down at another traffic light and Peter could now turn to look at him more directly, albeit shyly, “I’m sure, Wade, I really want this to be a date. I really…I really want to date you.”

And it felt like a victory to finally be able to say to Wade, in such a short time no less, something that had taken him ages to work up the nerve to even so much as suggest to Liz and MJ in the past. It was nerve wracking, and Wade’s own hesitation and long silences were really putting him through his self-esteem paces, but he’d said it now, it was out there and he really meant it. He meant it, like, a lot.

He didn’t even understand himself how come he felt so strongly about it, why it had been so easy to be attracted and to admit his attraction to Wade, a man who was also a merc. But for whatever reason, he really liked Wade. He really liked how…real, he was. Through all the moments of calm and chaos over the years, before and after the blip, and amongst all the people whose lives just went back to normal yet were all different somehow after the blip, Wade just didn’t feel different. HE didn’t seem different. He seemed almost exactly the way Peter remembered him. And he still made Peter feel secure and like he could let his guard down, like it was safe and he could trust Wade.

And yeah, that was really naïve thinking, Peter knew, because he barely knew Wade, hadn’t even seen Wade’s face, didn’t know how the blip had affected Wade, yet he felt so…he felt so…

“Then I guess it’s a date.” Wade stated with a brief clap, a whispery high pitch in his tone, interrupting Peter’s thoughts in the process, and then before Peter could respond he asked, “Got any ideas for a date, Baby Boy?”

Peter’s series of failed date activities shared with MJ flashed through his mind; all the times he’d had to shoot her a text or make a quick call to cancel or say he’d be late to dates at restaurants, museum or art exhibitions, movies, parties, music concerts, plays and other theater events, live sports games…hell, he’d even not made it back in time for dates they’d planned to stay at home for, regardless of whose apartment the date was meant to be at.

So, yeah, Peter could think of many date ideas, MJ had always had some great ideas, but they were all failures for him, since he’d only successfully managed to attend about three and a half of all the dates MJ’d planned for them back when they’d still been together. Shit, he’d let her down so much. It hadn’t even just been the dates he’d missed. He’d barely made it to her personal interest activities and to her occasional lecture or debate she’d be involved in.

He'd lost himself in negative thought as he drove, a tension building in his chest as he wondered if he’d end up letting Wade down the same way, over and over, but he was snapped out of it when Wade said,

“Having second thoughts, Pete?” in a fake-laugh and not necessarily joking way, and Peter mentally cursed himself for his inability to keep his thoughts straight as he quickly said,

“No, no way, uh, I’m just…” thinking about what a failure I am at dating? Nope, that was a bit heavy as a topic, he didn’t want to get into that, so he went with the first thing he could think of, “just surprised you don’t have more dating experience.” and it was only after he said it that he realized how that might sound like judgment. Like…offensive judgement. Or like maybe he was teasing Wade. Did it sound like that? Or was that just Peter projecting the way he’d feel if someone said something like that to him?

Crap.

He glanced at Wade, who was quiet again, and with that damn mask Peter really had no idea what he was thinking and all he could do was try to clarify what he’d meant,

“T-that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it, like, because you’re older or anything, I mean, I don’t even know how old you are. Of course, I’d like to know how o-old you are, but uh.” he had to stop himself from white-knuckling the steering wheel lest he leave permanent hand imprints in the leather and metal frame. He cleared his throat and decided to try again, Wade’s continued silence unnerving him, “But that’s not the point and that’s not what I meant, you know. I just figured you’d have dated more because you, uh, you…you…” what? What could he say that wouldn’t need more awkward elaboration? That Wade seemed so physically and sexually confident? That he was so tall and ripped and probably good looking and that that was what most people were attracted to, so he should have had lots of options?

“Don’t really have the interest or time for dating,” Wade piped up, voice a bit flat, tense, “not really any room for it in the merc business, what with all the constant traveling for contract killing and grievous bodily injuries regularly incurred.” Wade said it like it wasn’t a serious thing and Peter glanced at him feeling a little uneasy now. He couldn't help taking note of the colder tone of Wade’s voice, a tone he hadn’t heard directed at himself before, and of how Wade’s answer didn’t quite sound sincere, sounded a bit like he was trying to unpleasantly brush Peter’s question off. Peter also noted how he was settled low in the leather passenger seat, his gloved hands in the pockets of his jacket as he hunched in on himself, shoulders tense. His white mask eyes were inexpressive and he had his head turned slightly away, like he was uncomfortable, or annoyed, or upset.

Like Peter was making him feel all those things.

Peter frowned at the road ahead, where he was presently driving on the relatively busy Belt Parkway in no particular direction. The night wasn’t going how he’d hoped it would so far. Not that he’d had any specific expectations for what going on a date with Wade -an older man who was also a dangerous merc- would be like, but he’d at least hoped it wouldn’t include so many long and confusing, tense silences. Especially since Wade usually didn’t stop talking for very long, and well, Peter knew he was a talker too.

He was starting to feel really anxious and he hated it. He didn’t want to be discouraged, not as easily as he might have been in the past. After all, Wade had made it plenty clear that he had his own issues, and so Peter had to respect that, since he himself had issues to work through.

 And truth was, he could relate to that, so he admitted it,

“I get it. My last, uh,” he paused to reword that because MJ had actually been his only girlfriend to date, “my previous girlfriend ended our relationship because me being Spider-Man kept getting in the way of things.” and it felt so strange to say it out aloud.

He had May and Happy to talk to, and sometimes even Ned when they managed to video call, but the thing was, Peter never talked about overly personal stuff like that, not even a little, not anymore. He’d clammed up a long time ago, after all the mess with Beck specifically. He’d started keeping personal stuff, personal. And of course, he couldn’t talk about being Spider-Man with anyone else besides those three people and the Avengers, which was also not always an option, and usually felt uncomfortable too.

But he didn’t feel awkward mentioning it to Wade, not really anyway. A little nervous about the man’s response, but not uncomfortable. And anyway, wasn’t sharing and communication a good thing for a relationship…not that they were in a relat-

“Sounds like a shit show, but par for the course, I guess.” Wade commented, voice still a little tight and a little distant, like he was thinking about something.

“Yeah, started out great...” Peter tried to smile, “didn’t stay that way.” and didn’t quite manage.

“Did she know?” Wade asked, voice oddly serious.

Peter glanced at him briefly before refocusing on driving, navigating traffic carefully,

“About me being Spider-Man?” he asked, but already knew that’s what Wade was asking, “Uh, yeah, she did, she found out, or kind of just figured it out or whatever when we were still in high school…uh, after the blip though, because we had to start senior year all over.” he clarified the last part, finding himself suddenly so curious to know more about Wade, but unsure whether questions would be answered, or even well received.

He hadn’t failed to notice that Wade had a habit of changing the subject or brushing off personal questions. Peter was just choosing to be patient. Just like he was going to be about the mask issue.

“Senior year of high school, huh, when was that, last year?” Wade’s voice sounded a bit lighter now, his mood seemingly lifting, and he was teasing, Peter knew, but it was still annoying to be teased about his age. It was a sensitive subject for him and the blip hadn’t done him any favors. He didn’t get mad about it though, just gave Wade a brief narrowed side eye and shook his head,

“More than two years now, actually.” he clarified, and once again realized how that wasn’t really much better than Wade’s guess, still he powered through, “And anyway, technically, I’m 24.”

Wade shifted in his seat, sitting up a bit more,

“Or, if we subtract the blip and add the last two years, you’re 19.” he needlessly pointed out something that Happy had just reminded Pete of a few hours earlier. Peter got a bit defensive then,

“So, what, I’m still just a kid?” he said frustratedly.

But Wade bounced back, further lightening the mood when he said,

“No way, sweet Pete, you’re definitely not a kid, and definitely old enough.” in a suggestive tone and Peter immediately felt his face get warm again as he pursed his lips against a smile, even as he felt nervous anticipation creep up his spine.

He was old enough, damn right, and Wade’s suggestive tone made it clear Wade had adult ideas in his head for adult Peter…and Peter wanted to know those ideas, he was really curious to experience those things. Yet still, for the moment, his mind was rather innocently stuck on the idea of seeing Wade’s face, seeing his eyes and his nose, seeing his smile, seeing his lips…kissing his lips. Peter had always liked kissing, it had always been one of his favorite things when he’d had the time and focus to enjoy it with MJ.

And he really wanted to kiss Wade, to be kissed by Wade. Was there a difference? Something told him there was a difference, a big difference.

“Yeah, I am…” he answered distractedly, and then his curiosity made him ask, “…so, uh, how old are you, Wade?” and it wasn’t an unfair question as far as Peter was concerned. After all, if Wade would have not worn his mask for their date, Peter could have ballparked it. But as it were, he had nothing to go on, “Before the blip or after.” he added jokingly, smiling, trying to keep it light.

It didn’t work.

“I didn’t blip.” Wade said, tone flat and unreadable again, and Peter felt the tension seep back into the space around them.

“Oh.” was all he could say. Because sure, blipping had sucked, but at least Peter hadn’t been aware it was happening. Those left behind though…they’d lived it. Peter had seen it in the faces of the people he’d known before the blip, how they’d aged more than they should have. Natural aging sure, understandable, but mostly stress and loss and from living through a dark time had had a worse effect.

So, Wade had lived through it.

“Take the next turn off, Pete.” Wade said suddenly, voice more or less back to normal much quicker than before, and Peter, who’d just been driving aimlessly, glanced around and realized they’d made their way down to Brooklyn…very close to Coney Island.

He was confused about whether he’d been subconsciously driving there all along, but didn’t let it stop him from doing as Wade said, indicating his way across a few lanes in order to take the next turn off, which led them down to Ocean Parkway.

After a short while of driving along that road, Wade sat up properly and said,

“We’re here.” but that wasn’t really much to go on so Peter just frowned and glanced across through Wade’s window to see he was driving right past the building Wade had probably meant was ‘here’.

“The ice rink?” he asked as he looked back to the road, trying to calculate the nearest and most legal way to turn the car around to go back.

“Yeah, Pete, why didn’t you stop?” Wade asked, sounding confused.

Peter shot him an equally confused -albeit mildly amused- frown,

“Stop? Wade, we’re in the middle of a main road, I can’t just stop.” because even Peter, who’d found it annoying to have to learn to drive at Tony’s insistence so many years ago, knew better than that.

“Oh, yeah.” Wade responded, sounding like it really hadn’t occurred to him, or maybe the idea of doing so just didn’t strike him as odd.

Peter found himself smiling a moment later at how odd Wade could be sometimes, and a short way up the long road, he managed to find a place to turn around and go back.

Wade was quiet until they were nearing the ice rink again,

“You like skating, Pete?” Wade asked as Peter was entering the almost empty parking lot.

“I mean, sure.” Peter half shrugged as he turned into one of the first open parking spots right after turning in, switching off the car once he was situated and the hand break was engaged. The last time he’d been skating he’d been about ten years old, and it was a good memory, so that counted as liking it right? But, “You wanna’ go skating?” he had to ask, because Wade didn’t really strike him as the type.

“Yeah.” Wade looked at him across the short space between them in the car, mask boasting an open and enthusiastic expression as far as Peter could tell, “Skating is a datey activity, right? And this is a date, so we should do something datey.”

God, it was so lame how Peter kept blushing around Wade, but it was happening anyway, he couldn’t help it, and he just found himself nodding,

“Yeah, yep, skating sounds pretty, uh, datey.” he agreed, and then Wade was getting out of the car and Peter moved quickly to follow, ducking back into the car quickly when he remembered his frozen yogurt.

It was pretty effing yum, as Wade had said, so he didn’t want to waste it.

He engaged the car lock as he was rounding the car to catch up to Wade, and once he fell into step beside Wade, he pocketed the car key and started to tuck into his softened treat, distractedly glancing back to look at the expensive vehicle. Deciding the car would be fine, he turned his gaze to Wade and kind of just took the opportunity to look at him, the spoon remaining between his lips longer than necessary as he observed as surreptitiously as possible.

He noticed that Wade had a confident, almost intimidating gait, even with his shoulders a little tense and his hands tucked into his pockets. As if he didn’t want anyone to think he was approachable. The mask, of course, added to it. And Peter’s feelings were sort of all over the place about being patient about the mask, because he wanted Wade to unmask, but it was so obvious Wade didn’t want to for whatever reason, so Peter had to stick to his decision not to pressure him.

Moving past that for the moment, Peter ate a few more spoons of the yogurt, wondering next about Wade’s mask, a mask that some people had mistaken for Spider-Man's at the yogurt shop. Did people not know Deadpool? Would someone possibly recognize the Deadpool mask, because sure, it was New York and New Yorker’s were super jaded to masked types walking around, but outstanding masks and suits like Wade’s still drew attention.

As it was, Wade already stood out even in civilian clothes. He was so tall and, despite being totally covered up, his build stood out. It was clear that he was fit; broad shoulders, big arms, wide chest and tapered waist, long muscled legs. Peter’s eyes trailed from Wade’s head to his legs and back up as he ate another spoon of yogurt and kept pace with Wade. Peter couldn’t really help feeling that without his own super suit on, he was even smaller next to Wade, which made him frown in confusion because he wasn’t sure if he liked or disliked the feeling.

He thought about when Wade had called him ‘smol’ earlier, and he had to will himself not to blush again remembering the rest of that comment, but aside from their size difference, there was also the fact that out of his suit he was just Peter Parker.  No body Peter Parker, who no one knew was the superhero Spider-man. Just Peter, who was ripped as well, but in a much more…compact, lean sort of way.  Damnit.

Peter was a blink and frown away from resenting his slight stature and all the genes responsible for it, but then he recalled how Wade had looked at him in his suit and he recalled Wade’s words from weeks before. Wade had said his body was tight.

He had to force himself not to glance down at his body self-consciously, especially when he wondered whether Wade had even noticed the relative tightness of his jeans. Or was it just the -skin tight- suit that grabbed Wade’s attention?

Ugh, Peter really hated when his thoughts would take him to insecure places, so much so that he was feeling weird again about his nerdy T-shirt, which Wade also hadn’t seemed to notice. He glanced ahead when they walked around a corner and the brightly lit entrance of the ice rink came into view, and Peter decided to discreetly button up his overshirt as soon as he could. Because Wade wasn’t a science nerd and maybe he didn’t get the joke, or maybe it was because they were both grown men, and the shirt was just not doing the whole age difference thing any favors.

As it was, Wade’s earlier evasion of answering that question about his age made Peter feel sure their age difference was probably not…slight. He didn’t even know how to feel about that either.

His head was feeling cluttered with unsorted thoughts by the time they reached the entrance to the ice rink, and with the brighter light from inside now shining on them, Peter noticed Wade looked far tenser than before. Wade didn’t look at him as he pulled the door open, but then in contradiction to his tenseness, he made an exaggerated bowing gesture for Peter to go first.

Peter, who’d been chewing on his spoon, blinked twice in confusion before going in first, but he turned to make sure Wade was following him in. Something about Wade’s odd mood was making him feel on edge. He tried to shake it off as they walked across the spacious lobby toward the pay counter, and when Peter spotted a trash can off to the side, he side stepped quickly so he could toss the cup and spoon into it.

It was honestly only a few seconds that passed between him going to the trash can and Wade reaching the counter, but in those few seconds, out of nowhere, Peter felt his spider sense very lightly start to prickle, which was usually forewarning that something was potentially about to go wrong. He turned around to look for Wade at the counter, thinking he should let him know something might happen...

...only to see Wade reach across the counter and grab the guy standing there by the front of his shirt, violently hauling him almost right onto the counter top.

Chapter Text

...kinda wanna stay fucked up.

“You wanna’ say that again fuckface?” Wade asked in a very threatening voice that somehow filled the space of the ice rink’s lobby area, speaking to the young guy he had held up awkwardly and helplessly, almost completely on the counter top save for his unbalanced, dangling lower legs. 

Cue Peter blinking rapidly in confusion, because he hadn’t heard anyone say anything ! 

Very quickly he was at Wade’s side, looking from the older super to the wide-eyed guy who was being held up by his shirt so tightly in Wade’s large hand, it’d ridden halfway up his skinny torso and was digging into his neck. 

“Thought I wouldn’t know what you were saying, huh?” Wade asked, voice angry and annoyed. 

Peter looked at Wade again and frowned, confused, 

“Uh, Wade, what di-…?” he started to ask, truly baffled, but at the exact same time, the guy started to move his hands. It was a bit frantic, but it was still obvious enough for Peter to recognize that it was ASL. Peter’s eyes widened as he panicked, thinking Wade didn’t underst- 

“OH, so you can speak nicely.” Wade responded coldly, contradicting Peter’s concern, because apparently he did understand ASL? Far more than Peter could at least, since he only understood very basic ASL, so he had no way of knowing what the guy had just signed. He was at a loss then, trying to think of what he should do, when he noticed the guy looking at him pointedly before gesturing awkwardly to the wall behind him, behind the counter. Maybe he’d realized Peter didn’t understand him. 

Peter followed his gesturing, looking to the wall curiously, and then he raised his eyebrows when he saw a sign printed out that said NO MASKS PERMITTED.

And below the words was a picture of the commonly used Spider-Man merchandise face logo, with an X scratched through it in thick black marker. Peter sighed inwardly and had to stop himself from face palming. Why did they have to use his face? Geez.  

It didn’t matter to him though, he just wanted to calm Wade down, but before he even opened his mouth to speak, a zip of prickling energy went down his spine, some of his hair standing on edge. It was his tingle, another mild warning, his sense alerting him in the way it usually did when there was something potentially bad about to happen…but not to himself, that was a different feeling. This was the feeling he got when someone else was about to get hurt. 

Peter looked from Wade to the deaf guy, who was moving his hands again, and his face was a little screwed up now, like he’d found his backbone and was deciding to stand up to Wade with whatever he was signing.  

Wade’s response was immediate. Between the last hand sign and Peter’s next blink, the older super was reaching his left hand back, pushing his jacket to the side, hand sliding under his hoodie; the movement so natural for him it was smooth; complete skill and muscle memory. But so was Peter’s reaction to impending violence. Just as fast, in the same instant Wade had moved, he grabbed Wade’s left forearm with his right hand in the narrow space between them, halting Wade’s hand from reaching for what was probably a gun. No, it was almost definitely a gun. Actually, it was most definitely a gun, Peter just knew it.  

So, Wade had brought a gun with him, to a date at a yogurt bar... 

Somehow, that didn’t seem like it would be out of character for Wade, so Peter let it go for the moment. Instead, he indirectly focused his awareness on the two young girls who’d just appeared, they’d been about to exit the ice rink doorway into the lobby, and when they saw what was happening and they saw Peter wave his free hand discreetly in a ‘go back’ gesture, they both wisely ducked back into the rink area, out of sight. Peter was relieved they’d listened. 

The tenseness of the situation hadn’t lessened at all, but it seemed frozen for the moment, Wade seemingly not breathing even, not that Peter could hear. While the deaf guy was breathing quick and panicked and loud, and Peter was just breathing as evenly as possible. He looked at the deaf guy more closely, noting how his face was pale, but still screwed up in defiance . Peter could figure that he probably hated being bullied or manhandled like Wade was doing to him, which, fine, it was fair that he hated it. Peter had hated it too growing up, whether it’d been verbal or physical, being picked on by bigger or pushy guys always sucked.  

But while he had no idea what the guy had signed to Wade to provoke him, whatever it was, Wade’s reaction was way, way too much anyway. He needed to calm the hell down! 

Peter took a quiet, fortifying breath and then he squeezed Wade’s forearm where he was holding it more or less out of sight between them. But he didn’t squeeze too tightly, he added only just enough pressure to his grip to make sure Wade wouldn’t be able to move his arm to reach for his gun, unless Wade had super strength, then Peter would have to contend with it. But either he didn’t have any, or he didn’t use any, because Peter felt the tension lessen in Wade’s forearm after he squeezed lightly, and his warning sense dialed down to a hum almost immediately. 

The situation was deescalating now; Wade was not resisting and Peter felt very relieved. The relief confused him though, because what the hell? Had he expected Wade to go against him, to fight him? He hadn’t even realized he’d been worried about that! 

Taking in an audible breath, he remembered to use his words and he looked from the pale guy still awkwardly splayed over the counter, to Wade’s masked side profile.  

He could see the tension in Wade’s jaw even through the red mask material, and he calmly said, 

“Wade, hey, chill, okay,” he kept his voice as pleasant as he could, despite the undercurrent of tension he was feeling, “just let him go, alright? And you can tell me what happened.” he loosened his grip a little, only to squeeze again. But in a different way, a calming, encouraging way.  Wade’s forearm shifted then, and Peter felt more relief when Wade let his hand fall to his side completely, while saying, 

“This shitstain thought I wouldn’t know what he was signing at me, now he tells me I’m an asshole when he called me a masked freak.” his voice was tight, “Probably gets away with signing shit like that often.” he was speaking through clenched teeth and Peter glanced at the worried looking deaf guy again, but he was more concerned with calming Wade down than with what the guy had said.  

With his other hand, the merc was still holding onto the helpless guy, who seemed to be losing his bravado the longer Wade stared him down with his blank white mask eyes. Peter decided to step a bit closer then, enough that he was pressed slightly to Wade’s side, looking up at him as he reached out his hand again. And at first, Peter had intended to reach for the hand Wade had in a vice-like grip on the man’s shirt collar, but the tension in Wade’s jaw and the mild hum of his own senses were telling him Wade was still set to go off. So, without knowing why he thought of it, he made a split-second decision to be a distraction for Wade, instead of trying to take control of him. 

He placed his hand on Wade’s sternum then instead, a touch just firm enough to be grounding –like how Wade’s hand had felt on his neck several weeks ago in that alley, 

“Hey, listen, calm down, okay. He’s in the wrong, definitely, but we can just leave, Wade.” he offered earnestly, “We can just go somewhere else.” Peter suggested, while deciding to boldly slip his other hand into Wade’s free hand. And that got Wade’s attention. The larger man’s body relaxed further as he turned his head to glance down to where Peter’s hand had slipped into his, and then he raised his head so his masked eyes were looking directly into Peter’s face.  

Peter felt the hum of his senses die down even further when he offered Wade a small smile, and he went ahead and interlocked his bare fingers with Wade’s gloved ones, 

“What do you say? We can just go somewhere else, it’s fine with me. I just…” his ears got hot so fast it was insane, “We can just hang out anywhere else, right. It doesn’t need to be a dating activity or whatever.” he added quietly enough that only Wade would hear it, even though no one else was around. Deaf guy made an odd sound, and then he failed to swallow a whimper when Wade looked at him again with a sharp turn of his head. 

Wade’s grip on the guy’s shirt tightened and Peter’s grip on Wade’s hand did so as well, just enough to keep Wade’s focus on him. He didn’t have to say anything else though, because in the next second Wade released the man’s collar with a bit of a shove, letting the guy go to pretty much fall off the counter over the other side, right onto the floor and out of sight with a heavy, uneven thud. Peter swallowed a bit worriedly as he looked at the counter, hoping the guy was okay. But before the guy could even get up, Wade was gripping Peter’s hand and dragging him across and out of the lobby. And Peter gave no resistance, going along with Wade while awkwardly saying, 

“Sorry about that.” over his shoulder to where he saw the man now peeking over the counter at them, not even realizing the guy wouldn't hear him, because he was actually thinking please don’t call the cops on my date. He followed Wade back outside, where they walked hand in hand along the building side and around the corner again. 

Wade’s stride was quick and angry, and only once they’d passed the parking lot and turned another corner and walked into a closed off alleyway of the ice rink’s building, did he stop walking. 

As soon as they were out of sight of anyone entering or leaving the general area, Wade released his hand and promptly kicked the nearest trash can over with so much force the trash and the can itself were sent flying and sprawling further into the alley, the can dented heavily on the side. He then continued his assault on the next thing he could, which was the big steel dumpster, proceeding to fill the alley with loud thud-banging sounds and angry grunts and curses.  

Peter didn’t stop or interrupt him, he just stood by and waited.  

After all, beating the shit out of bins was better than Wade doing it to a person. He knew what it felt like to need to vent anger anyway, he’d had some really low times in the past years when he’d wanted to tear something apart too, and admittedly, he was also responsible for damaging some of NY’s dumpsters; far worse than Wade was managing to do. So, he just waited, watching a bit anxiously and curiously, noting that the steel dumpster didn’t dent the first four times Wade kicked its side, but then when Wade kicked it the fifth time, much harder, it did, and the large, full dumpster also shifted a bit after he’d applied more force. Peter had been wondering whether Wade had any super strength, but now he assumed it was maybe very mild enhanced strength. 

After the dumpster assault, Wade grabbed his own head and was muttering something to himself, something Peter could hear clearly because of his enhanced hearing. Wade was calling himself a fuck up and generally just cursing himself all up and down, his whispery tone so harsh and ugly it made Peter wince to himself. He didn’t really know if he should step in, but it felt wrong to let Wade keep going with his self-directed vitriol, so he took a step closer, 

“Wade, are-…” 

Wade whipped around, making Peter close his mouth on what he’d been going to say, the older super’s masked eyes wide as if he’d just remembered Peter was there. 

“Pete…” Wade breathed out, angry tension draining from his body, “Peter.” he said again and then he turned away and held his head again as he continued to speak, “I’m sorry, Peter. I really wanted to do the date thing,” he started to explain and Peter took another step closer, a bit owl eyed as he listened to Wade’s gruff, strained voice, “that asshole was just so fucking rude right when he saw me,” which, yes, he had been, “and I wasn’t going to kill him, Pete, I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t kill him. Just…maybe pistol wh…” 

“I know.” Peter quickly piped up, cutting Wade off from admitting whatever violent act he’d been considering doing to that man. Wade did in fact stop talking, lowering his hands from his head as he hesitantly turned to look at Peter, who closed most of the gap between them with three more steps, “I know you weren’t going to kill him.” 

Wade’s expressive mask clearly conveyed his frown of confusion, so Peter tried to explain, 

“My senses, my uh, I mean my mutated senses, one of them alerts me to danger, but like, different levels of danger.” he half shrugged, “So, I knew you wouldn’t have killed him, but, uh…” he swallowed lightly and raised an eyebrow, settling a more serious and questioning look on the older man, “you were going to do something...not good, and so I-” 

“Yeah. I get it.” Wade was nodding, and nodding, and then looking off down the alley to say, “Yeah, good call, actually, stopping me, I mean. It’s good. I’m glad you did, I…” he trailed off, staring down the alley. But after a few seconds of nothing else forthcoming, Peter prompted him with, 

“You?” wanting to know what Wade was thinking about so hard. 

Wade blinked –his mask actually blinked with him-, and then the eyes narrowed slightly, 

“I just wanted to do something nice for this date thing, because I have no actual fucking idea how it works to do nice date things because I never had to date to get laid back in the day before I looked like a horror prop reject.” Wade clenched his jaw abruptly, then he cursed himself, then he laughed awkwardly, “Not that I’m just trying to get laid by dating you, Pete. I mean I definitely, absolutely would like there to be sex in the future, lots and lots of all kinds of sex with you, but I also want there to be a relationship with the sex, and you, all together,” a wheezed intake of air, “you deserve all the fucking best and I’m literally the worst on all fronts.” he spread his hands for emphasis, “So, I’m trying to make this night worth it for you, but then that cockthistle fuckbag pissed me off and I got carried away in there because I just didn’t like his fucking face and the way he looked at me or what he said to me.”  

Peter could only blink as Wade went on, voice going from tone to tone, high, low, furious, gruff, talking to the sky and the floor and the space beside himself and the middle distance,  

“And getting carried away is my middle name. I do shit like this all the fucking time , beating some assholes up, shooting some assholes for talking shit or shooting up some place because I don’t like it, just in general getting angry at people around me, so angry, always angry, just like Hulky was in the first Avengers movie.” he wouldn’t look at Peter for longer than a second though as he kept going, voice getting more and strained, “ But I don’t want to do this stupid, stupid shit around you . Never around you , because you don’t deserve this messy bullshit and so you stopping me just now was fucking exactly what needed to happen, you should have broken my fucking arm or some shit. I’d have deserved that and FUCK! I’m so sorry, Baby Boy.” he breathed the final apology out heavily, shoulders sagging. 

Peter blinked once, and then again, waiting to see if Wade was done and when the larger man exhaled loudly and finally turned to face him with a sad expression on his mask, Peter decided it was okay to talk, 

“…-” 

But it wasn’t, 

“Also, my middle name isn’t ‘getting carried away’, that would be incredibly fucking stupid.” he clarified as if Peter had really thought his middle name was that , “It’s actually Winston. Wade Winston Wilson.” he finished in a tired whisper and Peter, well, Peter couldn’t help smiling just a little. 

Something about Wade’s rambling was endearing to him, maybe because it was similar to his own brand of verbal diarrhea, always at the weirdest and worst times. And it was also nice to know Wade’s middle name…but still, there was a lot to unpack in everything that Wade had just said, some of which confused Peter a hell of a lot. And they probably needed to talk about…well, all of it.  

But not right then, at that moment Peter just wanted to reach out. So he did, placing his hand on Wade’s bicep and curling his fingers into the jacket material a little as he gently urged the man to face him bodily while stepping up closer, closer than two platonic friends would stand, which was both intentional and not. Peter just wanted to be closer and he let himself go with it as he looked up at the taller super, 

“Okay, so,” he was finally able to get a word in, “maybe warn a guy before you word vomit, like, ten important things in one breath.” he said jokingly, smiling up at Wade, who’s sad expression eased off his mask as he once again seemed distracted by Peter’s closeness and physical contact. “I have a crap ton of questions after all that,” he licked his lips, somehow just knowing Wade was looking at his mouth, “but I’ll table them for right now, since I don’t think either of us are up for any serious talk.” and he meant it. 

Wade nodded a few times in agreement, mood lifting again, 

“Totes agree.” 

And Peter knew he shouldn’t be brushing it aside so easily, because there were some things Wade had done and said in the last ten minutes that were pretty worrisome, and Peter had many, many questions and many things he probably should be saying about all of it. But he was tired as hell after a long day, and up close, there in that alley where it was less windy and Wade was so close, he could smell cologne on the older man and it smelled good, and they were supposed to be on a date . A first date. First dates weren’t meant to be about heavy, serious stuff, right? 

“So, uh, what…uh-” he paused when Wade’s hands, out of nowhere, skimmed very lightly over his waist, clearly with hesitance and not quite settling. Even with such a light touch, Peter felt heat crawl up his spine, into his neck and to the tips of his ears. And he felt nervous as well, but despite that, he leaned into Wade, encouraging him to let his hands settle, “W-we can still find somewhere else to hang out, or, uh,” Wade’s hands did settle then, large, firm and low on Peter’s hips and Peter’s breath almost hitched, but he managed to keep it steady, “or, we could do anything else you had in mind?” 

And holy shit wow. How did Wade touching him make him say such dumb shit! Where the hell was his brain to mouth filter! Peter knew for a fact how sexually what he’d just said could be taken, and he knew for a fact he most definitely couldn’t follow through on anything else Wade might want to do, at least not all out sexually , not so soon, and especially not after Wade had just said very, very recently how he wanted to do all the sex things with Peter! 

´I could handle kissing.’ he thought somewhat confidently, fingers curling tighter into Wade’s jacket as his mask stretched enough around the mouth to reveal he was probably smiling, or smirking. And his hands slid up then, settling into the curve of Peter’s back and pulling him in firmly so they were pressed front to front. ‘Yeah, definitely kissing.’ Peter’s brain was doing it again, making concessions very quickly, "We could make out, and stuff. That’s normal for first dates, right?’ he weakly negotiated with himself, noting how even through their layers of clothes, not nearly as thin as their suits, Wade was still so solid everywhere they were pressed together.  

Seriously, their closeness was already getting to him quite a lot, tripping up the inhibitions he thought he had about what he was ready for. And with Wade’s silence, which was weighted with the sexual tension the older man seemed to be able to exude with ease when he wanted to, without any words and very little action, it was making it difficult to keep his head clear. It was making Peter’s mouth dry and his heart rate increase and he was actually feeling pretty turned on so much quicker than before, making him think, ‘Okay, maybe…maybe making out and second base wouldn’t be so bad.’   

He was thinking like a damn teenager, but maybe it was okay, because he was kind of 19. 

“I recall you said something about me asking again when I see you.” Wade finally spoke, and his voice was low and suggestive as he slid his hands down again, flexing them against Peter’s hips, making Peter’s own hand tighten its grip where it was settled on Wade’s upper arm, his other hand coming up to hold Wade’s other arm too. Of course, he immediately knew what Wade was talking about, his thoughts racing and breathing accelerating when Wade dipped his head down then, just enough that Peter could partially feel his breath through the mask when Wade added, “And I definitely see you, Baby Boy, been trying real hard not to stare you up too obviously,” his tone a low tenor that was just the right kind of gruff and sensual, “but you look so fucking good in these jeans.”  

A few things happened then, Wade flexing his hands again before they slid just a bit lower, but still not all the way to Peter’s butt, and at the same time Wade pressed their bodies closer together, just when he tilted and dipped his head down further to nuzzle into Peter’s hair, his hot breath more noticeable as it passed over Peter’s equally hot ear. 

And the thing was, Peter had never felt so much sexual charge and tension running through him and surrounding him before, making sweat gather in the curve of his back as his skin prickled with heat and his thoughts became fuzzy. The heated sexual atmosphere Wade seemed to create with just simple touch and words was miles away from the almost innocent and very vanilla sexual experiences he’d had with MJ, where -on a good night- they’d have made out for a while, fooled around with some foreplay and then eventually fallen into bed and had some nice, soft, pleasant and generally enjoyable sex. 

But nothing about Wade’s closeness was so understated, even his simplest touch…his low spoken words, his heated demeanor, all of it suggested things between them wouldn’t be vanilla-soft and most definitely not innocent. Hadn’t Wade just said something about how he’d never needed to date anyone in order to get laid? Yeah, Peter could see how that worked, it actually fit the idea of Wade he’d been building up in his head for a while already. And with his own inhibitions not holding up, he could easily imagine it being even more effective on more experienced people who’d let Wade touch them without waiting. 

And hell, Peter was both turned on and frightened just thinking about it all…but being turned on was winning, especially since he could feel himself getting hard as Wade breathed just the right side of ticklish as he trailed his masked nose over Peter’s ear, down to the hinge of jaw and lower still, along the curve of his neck. 

“Whadya’ say, Pete, can I?” Wade asked against the side of his neck, and Peter, blood leaving his head rapidly and thoughts circling back to how much he wanted to make out with Wade, was just about to nod…but then, a twinge that he couldn’t quite place with his mind feeling so fuzzy, distracted him. 

The weird twinge was gone as quickly as it came, leaving behind a feeling of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach, but it allowed him to clear his head enough for him to stop feeling too swept away. He was still feeling hot and turned on though, so he stayed in the moment, in the good feeling of being pressed close to Wade, and remembering how he’d teased Wade earlier on that rooftop and how he’d enjoyed the feeling of that little bit of power, he wanted to feel it again. So, he slid his hands down quickly to lightly hold Wade’s forearms, smiling when he drew his head back enough to speak against Wade’s masked ear when he said, 

“Nuh-uh, shouldn’t I get three questions of my own, first?” 

He kept smiling and laughed a bit when Wade groaned into his neck, the older super squeezing him closer into the curve of his taller, slightly bent body. Peter kept grinning, feeling fond and turned on all at once. 

He was feeling pretty good right then, all things considered, and while he wasn’t any kind of Casanova, something about Wade’s attraction to him kind of bolstered his sexual confidence, and he liked it. It was nice to feel attractive and confident. 

Wade stood up straight then, leaning back somewhat abruptly, but he still held Peter close, somehow managing to convey an exaggerated eyeroll through his mask and with his whole head tilting back when he said, 

“Fiiiine.” and Peter’s grin eased into a smirk, face on fire and mood happy and smug. Wade rolled his head back down before saying, “Go ahead, ask your questions so I can get my hands on that perky butt.” 

If it were possible, Peter’s face would have become redder, but at least the alley wasn’t too well lit so it hid most of his fluster at Wade’s straightforward statement.  

The questions though, geez, Peter had so many, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood by asking anything heavy. So he hummed a bit to tease Wade some more, while also buying himself time to think of something neutral and not too serious, and then he cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at Wade, 

“Do you have super strength?” 

“That would be a negative, Spidey Babe,” he answered without missing a beat, and Peter wasn’t expecting it, but Wade actually elaborated, “or mostly a negative. I’m stronger than normal folks, like, the not genetically altered normies walking around, you know, but not to a super extent.” 

“So, you’re a mutate?” 

“Affirmative.” he answered shortly, more like how Peter had expected him to answer, and he also felt Wade’s fingers flex on his hips again, keen to get that final question out of the way. 

The memory of Peter’s own mutation flashed through his mind, completely involuntarily. How worried he’d felt after the spider bite, the state of shaky, sweaty and ill he’d been for several hours until he’d passed out in bed, and then how confused he’d been the next day when he’d woken up and his entire body had felt so different. He’d felt so scared and freaked out while figuring out what had happened to him for next few days and weeks. He couldn’t help but to ask, 
“Was it difficult, when you mutated?” and the older super’s masked eyes focused on his own immediately, so, Peter innocently added, “I mean, did it hurt?”  

Wade’s entire body stiffened. 

And Peter would have been worried about Wade’s rigid reaction to his question, except his own body stiffened as well…because that small twinge he’d felt earlier that had distracted him, suddenly ramped up to a full, vision tunneling, slowing and zeroing in, all out spider sense alarm. 

Something was going to happen. Something major. 

Peter didn’t even realize he’d removed himself from Wade’s hold until he was running out into the open parking lot and looking up at the sky in the distance, across the open air toward the taller buildings of the city. His sense was still in full swing as he watched it happen, a series of blue energy flashes moving through the air, reflecting in the windows of some buildings and making impacts right before several mid-level explosions occurred in the city, more audible than they were visible from so far away.  

He was just about to take off running when he remembered Wade. 

He spun around. Wade was standing right there behind him, just two feet away, also looking into the distance where the commotion was no doubt escalating in the city. He looked unbothered, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, stance relaxed.  

Peter swallowed thickly and forced himself to say the words that had eventually led to MJ leaving him, 

“I have to go.” they came much easier though, and without a stream of babbled excuses, like they’d used to in his earlier days. 

Wade looked at him, 

“Oh, yeah, go ahead Baby Boy,” he brought one gloved hand out to wave it lazily, “you go do your hero gig, don’t worry about me. I’ll call a cab.” and he genuinely sounded like he didn’t mind. Like, honestly. 

Peter didn’t know whether to be offended or not. Especially after that last question…was Wade glad he was taking off? 

Shit. 

Peter’s spider sense was still going. He didn’t have time to figure this out. 

Story of his life. Same ol, same ol. No time for his relationship. Spider-Man duty called. 

“Yeah, okay.” he breathed out, shaking off the bad feelings as he had many times before, he turned to start running, and he got a short ways away before he skidded to a halt and doubled back when he remembered Pepper’s car. “Crap, crap, crap, crap.” he repeated as he stopped back where he’d been before, except this time looking into the empty parking lot at the car he’d driven them there in, “I forgot about Pepper’s car. I can’t leave it here.” 

Then, calm as anything, Wade, who hadn’t moved, suggested, 

“You should probably drive back to the city anyway, not many tall buildings this far out, Pete, that’d be a lot of leg work.”  

Peter blinked from the car to Wade, realizing that, yes, Wade was right. He had no idea why simple logic could fail him so embarrassingly at times like this, but it did, and Wade had just pointed out a useful work around. 

“I…” he paused, “Yeah, it’ll be slower than swinging, but I guess still faster than on foot until I can use my webs.” 

“Just drive fast. It’s a fast car.” Wade added unhelpfully. Peter, ansty and shifting around on his feet, spider sense zipping up and down his spine, shook his head, 

“I’m not a good enough driver to drive fast, and I can’t afford to wreck Pepper’s car. Like, literally can’t afford it.” 

He earned a nice enough monthly salary for the whole standby Avenger thing, but he also had living expenses and other financial responsibilities and Pepper’s car was expensive and yeah, maybe she wouldn’t expect him to pay for it if something happened under the circumstances of rushing to save lives, but Peter would feel so shitty- 

“I can.” Wade interrupted his high-speed mental stress train. 

“Huh?” Peter frowned at him. 

“I said, I can. I can literally afford to buy her a new car if it gets wrecked. Two, if she wants one in a better shade than ‘no personality’.” and then Wade shrugged, “Also, I can drive fast, so I can drive if you want.” 

What? What!? 

Peter’s brain was not managing with his multiple trains of stressed thought. 

He needed to get to the city. Fast. 

People were getting hurt. Possibly killed. So, ASAP. 

He couldn’t wreck Pepper’s car though. How much would that suck! 

But Wade could afford to buy Pepper a new car? Two new cars? 

No personality? What was wrong with driving a white car?  

Should he let Wade drive the car? 

Or should he run and jump and run until he reached tall enough buildings to swing? 

Would Pepper be mad if he let his…boyfriend? Slash technically-a-criminal mercenary drive her car? 

Should he let Wade…Deadpool, drive Pepper Potts-Stark’s car. 

He needed to get to the city. Fast. ASAP. So very ASAP. 

And he wasn’t a good enough driver to make it back to the city without causing an accident. 

And without his webs he couldn’t cover distance as fast as a car could. 

Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap 

“Crap!” he exclaimed and then he pulled the car key out of his pocket and tossed it to Wade, “As fast as you can without causing an accident or damaging the car.” he stated, voice pitchy but serious. 

Wade caught the keys without a hitch and they both started toward the car quickly as Wade responded, 

“No solid promises on the former or the latter, Baby Boy, but I will definitely get you to the city faster than you can run.” 

All Peter could do was mutter a new stream of ‘crap’ as they got into the car.  

Wade emphatically whispering, 

“Maximum effort.” before starting the car. 

Wade got them into the city as fast as possible, as promised, which was in less than half the time the drive should have taken. The fact that the traffic outside of the city proper wasn’t too bad at that hour did play a role, and it also played a role in the fact that Pepper Potts-Stark’s car was still in one piece and over all good condition. Her engine was probably more worked over than ever before, her tires were a little burned and maybe she’d find some speeding fines in her mail but aside from that the car was fine. 

Peter seemed a little owl eyed though, his half stunned, nervous smile leaving Wade uncertain of whether he was terrified or impressed by Wade’s driving. 

He didn’t have time to ask though, they’d only just entered the city when Peter’s fancy Ironman-like nanotech suit, the one Wade had never had the pleasure -and awe- of seeing up close, was suddenly mechanically forming and unraveling itself smoothly and like a second skin right over Peter’s clothing, all of it manifesting itself from a point Wade was not even sure of, covering every part of the younger super in seconds. 

“Thanks, Wade, this is good, I’ll swing from here.” Peter was saying just as the mask part finished closing over his head. And Wade, still thinking of how amazing the suit was and how Peter definitely saved a fortune on dry-cleaning, very recklessly and illegally veered off across a lane to pull the car over along the sidewalk. A car coming up had honked obnoxiously, but it’d been far enough away that collision was avoided. 

Wade hardly cared, using what little time he had right then as the car idled, to take in the impressive suit Peter was wearing. He looked like a Spider-Man version of Ironman. Maybe that was the point. Peter didn’t acknowledge the other car either, too in a hurry to care, too focused on whatever was happening further inside the city as he opened the car door. 

But then he hesitated to get out and Wade didn’t know why until Peter said, 

“The car…I…” sounding very unsure of what to do. 

Wade just shrugged and turned it off, 

“I can leave it here.” because he didn’t give a shit about the car. It was nice and all, but Wade could afford nice cars, he just didn’t buy any because who the fuck needed a car in New York city? 

Peter’s glowing mask eyes stared at him for a moment, it seemed like many things were stressing him out about the car and Wade had no idea what any of them were. So, he just stayed still in the seat and watched Peter’s tense ironclad form hover on the edge of the seat, one foot out of the door. Did he think Wade would steal the car? Hah! That was hilarious, if Wade was going to steal a car it’d be something nifty and totally badass, like the batmobi- 

“C-could you park it off somewhere for me?” Wade couldn’t say he’d been expecting that request, “I’ll text you the street, and an apartment number, you can, uh, just slip the key under the door.” Peter’s glowing blue mask eyes were very focused on Wade, his head tilting slightly. 

Wade just nodded numbly, 

“Yeah, sure, course’, Baby Boy.” 

“Awesome, thanks.” he said quickly, moving to get out. But then he hesitated again, and Wade was genuinely stunned when Peter’s mask deconstructed suddenly, just enough for Peter to duck in, lean across the console and literally leave a peck on Wade’s masked cheek, just above his jawline. And then he said a reedy ‘bye’ and he was gone. 

Car door closed, three steps, hand up, web shooting out and body propelling upwards effortlessly and then almost immediately out of sight around the corner of the nearest building. 

And what the actual fuck?  

Wade’s mouth was hanging open under his mask, eyes wide, and he did a cartoon-like head shake to reorient himself after just receiving a goodbye peck on his cheek from Spider-Man. He’d felt similar earlier at the yogurt place, mind you, when Peter had pecked his cheek. It was the sweetness of the action, the couple-like feel of it, it really threw Wade off every time. Because it still seemed so ludicrous it was even happening, but it had all actually happened. The yogurt bar, the ice rink, the alley ...and every step of the way Wade had been trying to play it cool, keep his amazement out of his voice and out of his actions, but at every turn Peter was kind of blowing his damn mind. 

First, Peter had showed up looking so fucking cute in his well-fitting jeans and that Star Wars T-shirt, which despite reminding Wade of Vanessa, it was only in a good memory kind of way. And he’d seen the disappointment in Peter’s eyes when he’d realized Wade was still masked, and yet still Peter hadn’t made an issue out of it. Peter had even kissed him on the damn cheek! 

Then Peter had asked questions when they’d been driving in the car and Wade had acted like an evasive douche. He was not ready to answer certain questions, most questions, but Peter naturally had normal questions, and they were reasonable, expected questions, but Wade had felt himself getting angry and defensive and he’d closed himself off. Still , Peter had taken it with a pinch of salt. 

So, Wade had decided to try to do some nice normal datey thing to make up for being a volatile asshole. Fun, corny couple activities were what all the best -and worst- romcoms suggested, so he’d decided to choose the first date like activity he could think of from what he remembered was around the part of Brooklyn they’d been in, and Peter had been game. Fucking ice skating. Wade didn’t even like ice skating. The last time he’d been in an ice rink he’d been about to kill someone with a Zamboni.  

He snorted.  

What? It was still funny, okay! 

But Peter, fucking sweet, sweet Pete, he was so agreeable, and still Wade couldn’t even manage not to fuck things up. Wade really hadn’t wanted to act like a violent nutcase around Peter, even if he was one most of the time, but that fuckbag at the ice rink who thought he could get away with gesturing at the wall sign and then signing something else to Wade, really would have deserved a grade 3 concussion courtesy of Wade’s Desert Eagle. 

Wade hadn’t been going to kill him obviously, it wasn’t his thing to kill ‘innocents’ or ‘civilians’…not intentionally. Collateral didn’t count, right? Whatever the fuck. That jizzbucket would have deserved the head injury Wade had intended to give him. 

But Peter had stopped him. And not by giving him a lecture, or a head injury of his own, which, let’s face it, he definitely, easily could have, and Wade felt like he would have deserved it too for being the world’s shittiest everything. But instead, Peter had been nice about it and surprisingly tactile . Wade’s temper and feelings had been all over the place, all up and down and fucking frangry because he’d wanted to hurt someone, but not Peter. 

Never Peter . 

And then, after all that shit, Peter hadn’t even been angry at him. He’d just sounded worried and then he’d continued to be all adorably bad at hiding his fluster and flirting and he hadn’t stopped being tactile and he’d let Wade touch him...he would have let Wade touch him even more probably, if they hadn’t been interrupted. 

Wade was sitting back in the driver’s seat of Pepper Potts-Stark's car, breathing as steadily as he could through his warring – and some long forgotten- emotions. He couldn’t help lashing out though, hitting the steering wheel in annoyance as he cursed. Thinking of that last question Peter had so innocently asked…like there wasn’t any real weight behind it. Like mutating, and feeling some brief pain or discomfort while mutating, was no big deal. And maybe it hadn’t been for Peter. Maybe it’d been a cake walk. 

It definitely had not been months of being tortured within an inch of life. 

How was Wade supposed to answer a question like that without Peter pitying him? Would Peter understand the reasons? If he did, how could Peter stand to know the answer, the extent to which Wade suffered just to be hideous, unkillable and miserable? It was fucking horrifying and pathetic. Even Vanessa hadn’t wanted to hear about the torture in any detail, she’d just wanted Wade to forget about it. And Wade had always been good at compartmentalizing, so he’d ‘forgotten’, because having Vanessa in his life again had been more than enough to make up for what he’d suffered. Now Peter wanted to be a part of his life, but Peter was not the same as Vanessa. 

Peter was also not the same as Wade. 

Sure, they were both damaged, he’d noted the loss of some hope and a certain brightness in Peter’s eyes since that very first time he’d seen Peter on Coney Island, which was a clear indication that he’d been through his own personal hell over the years. But ultimately their damage was very different. 

Wade sighed heavily, and then bumped his head back against the headrest with a groan, 

“What the fuck am I doing?” he half whispered to himself. Just then his phone chimed in his pocket and he sighed again before shifting in the leather seat in order to get it out. 

And, oh yeah, Peter had said he would text him the place to park off the car…and an apartment number to leave the key under the door of. And wasn’t that just the kicker to every single time Peter had left Wade reeling that evening. Because it didn’t take a genius to know that the apartment number was almost 100% certainly Peter’s. 

Peter…Spider-Man, had just texted Wade his address. 

Nobody ever gave Wade their addresses, not in years. Not even before the blip actually. Not even Dom and Dopinder. Hell, he only ever knew where Weasel lived nowadays because the man was his job broker, and even then, he didn’t exactly visit Weasel there almost ever, and never for anything other than work. 

Of course, he knew where they lived, because duh , they couldn’t keep that info from him if they fucking tried. But he’d never, ever tried to figure out Spider-Man’s identity, he’d never tried to find out where he lived…and now, on the phone held a bit too tightly in his gloved hand, the bright screen was displaying the street name, the building name and the apartment number for one Peter Parker. 

Aka Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. The only Spider-Man. It was too good to be true.  

Maybe he was developing new powers, like Dom’s fake, but not really fake, lucky power. Heh. Either that, or Karma was fucking with him and he was going to get a hard, miserable dose of reality at some point…almost definitely the point when the time came to take his mask off. 

Fuck. 

He started the car and pulled away from the curb with a too loud rev of the engine, feeling annoyed and knowing he couldn’t do anything about his pent-up aggression…not immediately anyway. Immediately, he had to park off the car and drop off the key like he said he would. 

It didn’t take him too long to drive into Spidey’s nice enough neighborhood and park the car off along the curb, across the street from the building that was Spidey’s nice enough apartment block. 

Wade noted it was a fairly good distance from his own primary apartment, although he had a safehouse, slash weapons stash house, much closer to the neighborhood he was currently in. He looked out the car window up at the building Peter lived in. There were not many floors, and it took Wade all of a minute to estimate exactly which apartment was probably Peter’s from the outside, which, after he figured it out, he got out of the car, locked it and crossed the street to go around the side of the building to where the fire escape was. 

Something about walking through the building, using the elevator or stairs and then going to slide something under Peter’s door just felt wrong to him, very exposed. Maybe it’s because as a merc, front doors and front entrances weren’t his usual points of entry. 

Or maybe it’s just how he was written. 

Either way, he was going in through the fucking window. 

Yes, going in, as in, inside. 

Maybe this was why no one ever told him where they lived, let alone invited him over. But again, as a merc, boundaries like locks and doors were subjective. 

Fifth floor, apartment 504. 

It was the top floor, two corner windows facing the less busy street, perfect for Spidey activities. And while Wade wasn’t Spidey-level agile, he was still really fucking agile, so it was easy for him to jump the fire escape, make his way up, and then to get from the edge of the fire escape railing to the window ledge, even if he did nearly slip for a second because the ledge was narrow and there was very little to hold on to. But he was unsurprised to find the window on the corner without the fire escape unlocked. How else would Spidey come and go?  

He was in through the window quickly and stepping his sneakered feet down one after the other on Peter’s bedroom floor quietly and smoothly, unseen as far as he’d noted. Once inside, he slid the window closed behind him like a good breaker and enterer. Or just enterer, since he didn’t actually break anything. 

He glanced around the semi-dark room, thinking he should maybe confirm it was Peter’s apartment, just in case he’d fucked up. But one look around the fairly clean space, and because the bathroom light had been left on, he was easily able to see some stuff stuck up on the wall above the desk. Amongst some papers and notes, there were some photos of Peter with other people. Wade leaned in and squinted at the pictures.  

One was with an older woman, and since Peter hadn’t mentioned a mother even once, while he’d mentioned an aunt, Wade assumed that was probably her. Then there were two pictures of Peter and the same guy. Peter looked younger in the one photo, and he was wearing a jacket with a school logo on it, so they were probably high school friends. The other photo was a selfie, and Peter looked a little older, so Wade assumed the guy was possibly Peter’s best friend. There was also a single photo of an attractive girl, but Wade had to use a finger to lift up a written note covered piece of paper, that was more than half way covering the photo, in order to see it. 

“The ex-girlfriend.” he muttered, dropping the paper back where it had been. 

Then there was a photo of Peter and Tony Stark, in the picture Peter was holding a certificate award, upside down, and they were making finger bunny ears behind each other’s heads.  

Wade blinked. One glance to the shelf next to the desk confirmed the very same certificate in the photo was there, standing beside a stack of sciency books. 

Yeah, so, super, duper definitely Peter’s apartment. Peter who was Spider-Man and an Avenger and had apparently been really close with Tony fucking Stark. The Iron Man. Saviour of the fucking universe . Peter who’d been close enough to take goofy pictures with The Iron Man. Peter...who still had a picture of his pretty ex-girlfriend stuck right above his desk where he could always look at it whattheactualfuck was Wade’s life. 

Wade stood up straight, walked away. Not wanting to linger too long on the feelings of inadequacy and insecurity building in his gut. 

He started humming to himself, walking across the room toward the bedroom door that was ajar as he glanced around. In the sufficient enough lighting, he could see that the bedroom was far from pristine in terms of tidiness, what with clothes, and books, papers and dismantled mechanical components all over the place. The bed was also unmade and two of the wardrobe doors stood open, revealing an untidily packed hanging closet, a half open stuffed drawer, and shoes, mostly sneakers, messily packed into the bottom. But the room itself was clean, it smelled clean, and also a bit like the cologne he’d smelled on Peter all evening, the scent of it was lingering in the room. 

Wade was tempted to go digging through drawers and stuff, as he usually would when illegally entering someone else’s place. But usually he was working, and this was not that. He was there to drop the keys off. And even though he should not have been inside to start with, Wade often tended to pick and choose the boundaries he crossed, lawful or personal. Right then, he just wanted to get a feel for how Spidey lived, who Spidey was. Also, he was an idiot who did things that could backfire on him all the time. 

He pushed aside his deeper curiosity to snoop and exited the room, stepping into the living area, which was in darkness, so Wade navigated more carefully as his eyes adjusted. The place was pretty average in terms of furniture, sparce in terms of personalized decor. Considering Spider-Man was an Avenger and sort of like family to the Stark’s, he’d been expecting something fancier. Hell, his own apartment was far larger and more expensive. Although, almost everything in his own apartment was expensive just because he could afford to buy stuff without looking at price tags, and because he spent money frivolously.  

Peter’s living space was still neater than his own by far, and it contained far less junk. Wade had weapons lying all over, some used, some new, some sentimental, some still bloody. And there were always empty food cartons somewhere, no matter how many times he threw them out. He also had lots of collectable knick-knacks and paraphernalia on his shelves and walls, and some books too, some he’d read and some he never would, just bought them because he thought the covers looked cool. He still had unpacked express delivery boxes, unpacked moving boxes and various other miscellaneous things all over, not to mention his ever changing drawn up plans for new marks, along with other random work-related shit.  

So, compared to his own messy and very lived in space, and despite some of Peter’s furniture looking like it belonged in the 1950s, the place was nice and well maintained; it looked Petery. Wade could see him there, on the ugly brown-red patterned sofa, reading or watching shows…and Wade could also picture him doing those things hanging from the ceiling all spidery like. 

The part that had him shaking his head and refocusing was when he pictured Peter doing those things in his own apartment. He needed to not picture things like that, because he didn’t need to start getting ahead of himself. He had no idea what he was even doing or where this whole weird turn of events was even going. 

Continuing to hum, he headed into Peter’s kitchen next, where he set the car keys down on the nearest counter, next to an empty bread bin, which was next to an almost empty cereal container, which was next to an almost empty glass instant coffee jar, which was next to a completely empty sugar container. 

What the shit?! 

Wade did cross his ‘no snooping’ boundary then, opening Peter’s cupboards and his refrigerator and finding the results of some canned foods, dry snack foods, and in Peter’s fridge, a few frozen microwavable meals and left-over food containers, unacceptable! 

Wade was stumped, because surely Peter could afford to eat properly, he was a fucking Avenger! 

It did occur to him though, that Peter’s place didn’t look very lived in, and that maybe he just wasn’t home much…maybe he just didn’t have time to eat. Peter had mentioned his Spider-Man stuff getting in the way of his previous relationship, which was a branch of his life, so it probably affected other areas of Peter’s life too. If that was the case, it made sense that he didn’t always find time to eat. 

But that was not okay. Wade didn’t like that idea. Food was life and he liked Peter alive and healthy and adorable and sexy and spidery. 

Wade did a quick mental check of his of his options on what he could do. 

Then, checking his Adventure Time watch, he saw that he didn’t have much time to catch his latest mark that evening, which he really wanted to do in order to blow off some steam…and his mark’s head. So, cooking something for Pete wasn’t an option, nor was it a good idea for two reasons; one, Wade was good at making exactly three things in a kitchen, and one of those things was a bomb. And second, Peter barely had any ingredients to work with anyway. 

So, Wade whipped out his cell phone and looked up the nearest pizza place, and after placing an order he was satisfied with, he made his way to the door of the apartment so he could pick the lock, because the delivery guy definitely wasn’t gonna’ make it to jump the fire escape. 

About three hours later and far from Peter’s nice little apartment, and everything else about Peter that was nice and wonderful and so different from Wade’s shitty, fucked up life... 

...Deadpool was walking down a quiet, seedy street in a dangerous part of the Big Apple, all suited up and with at least fifteen visible and concealed weapons on his person. 

He’d had a long night with some highs and lows. 

He’d felt a lot of things he’d thought he was dead to and a lot of things he was confused about. 

He was feeling very on edge and all he really wanted right then was to make some bad guys bleed. 

So, he was on his way to meet his mark. 

And by meet, he meant kill.

Chapter Text

...but love is like a blind archer tryna' shoot an apple off my head.

The mark Deadpool was after was a seedy, designer drug manufacturing motherfucker.  

Nothing particularly special about him, aside from the fact that a lot of dead bodies turned up because of his little experimental drug. And you know how it goes; the wrong person dies by the drugs given to them by said seedy motherfucker’s little distributor ring, and someone who gives an actual shit about said wrong dead person calls Weasel up, who then lets Wade know that it's time to take out the trash. 

Wade then takes the job and gets a nice fat ass paycheck to take out that seedy motherfucker, and any other affiliated, or unfortunately present, motherfuckers also end up being on the notwithstanding slash nonnegotiable side of Wade’s weapon of choice. 

And oh boy, oh boy, did Wade love killing drug dealers as much as, well, as much as he loved killing any other bad guys. He wasn’t picky. 

He was presently getting out of a cab onto an empty street, whistling along with Billy Idol’s Hot in the City loudly. He’d just tossed a few hundred-dollar bills in the driver’s general direction and he slammed the door behind him, not looking back as he started walking down the street, the cab loudly screeching as the driver took off in a hurry.  

Wade walked for a minute, but stopped whistling after a while when the song he’d been listening to ended. He plucked his iPod out of the pouch it was in and frowned down at it. It had just decided to shuffle him to a song he did not want to listen to. Then he tapped through three more randomized songs that he was definitely not in the right mood for.  

He muttered, 

“What the fuck.” in an annoyed whisper as he tapped next again. He wanted to kill the bad guys in a good, upbeat, inspired mood, not while half-crying after listening to Careless Whisper, With or Without You and When Dove’s Cry. Those songs were reserved for ‘I’m so fucking miserable why can’t I die fereals ’ nights.  

Not the right vibe at all. 

“Fucks sake.” he cursed as he skipped the next song too, Just Like Heaven by The Cure, while continuing down the quiet, dodgy street on which the mark’s relatively cliché, warehouse type of hideout was situated, “Did someone fuck with my playlist?” he asked out loud, looking around. No one answered, but he heard shouting in the distance, a dog barking and some glass breaking. Then some gun shots. Heh, fun neighborhood. 

He skipped through a few more songs and then groaned loudly and gave up when the next track it landed on was I Need Love by LL Cool J. 

“Fuck!” he yelled into the poorly lit street, then quietly added to himself, “That’s it, no more making playlists when I’m high on morphine and ice cream sandwiches.” he decided. And then turned abruptly when he heard something shifting off to the side. Gun out and hammer cocked, he bit back another curse when he realized it was just a homeless dude he’d woken up as he passed by. He offered the bum a sarcastic apology, mentioning that he’d thought he was a dead body, before he turned and continued walking. He didn’t bother to skip the song though, he just tried not to rap along with the smooth sound of LL Cool J’s voice coming through his AirPods as he walked.  

The universe was clearly trying to fuck with his head.  

Right then he didn’t want to be thinking about needing love. He didn’t want to think about missing Vanessa...or wanting Peter. All he needed were guns firing, screams of pain and lots of bad guy blood everywhere but in their squishy bodies. 

He was just about to fail in his valiant effort not to rap along, nearing his destination with every step in time with the song rhythm, when some guy came running up to him...brandishing a knife. It wasn’t even a big knife or anything. Just an itty bitty one. He had crazy crackhead eyes and most definitely had the idea to rob Wade, which, hah! Hilarious.  

One hand still holding his iPod, Wade raised up his already unholstered gun so it was level with the crackhead’s general head area,  

“Hupupup! Bad NPC.” he said almost nicely, “I have sooooo many weapons on me right now, I could lay you out like the Wound Man.” he added, not even stopping his relaxed stride. The guy had skidded to a halt and half fell over himself trying to back pedal the moment he saw the gun, and then he ran off into a dark alley, disappearing out of the scene like a filler NPC was supposed to do.  

Wade lowered his gun again, tutting in disapproval, and then a short while later he stopped walking and he casually put his iPod away. He’d finally reached the large roller door to the designated building of his mark, and he took a second to glance over the exterior situation before he aimed his Dessert Eagle at the too-fancy-for-that-neighborhood locking device on the wall beside the door, and shot it. That fucked it up, as expected, and it was then easy to lean down and yank the roller door up, Wade waiting until the door was all the way up to survey the situation. 

The situation being a fairly large, well-lit warehouse space with a total of at least thirty-five future dead bad guys, less than half of which were armed and just standing around, while the others were packing and stacking the drugs.  

The armed ones had their guns aimed at him already, duh, while the rest all stood staring at him wide eyed and frozen. He spoke loudly into the heavy silence, 

“Hi there, I’m your new neighbor, Deadpool.” he waved his gloved fingers, “I just moved in down the street, right next to the old homeless guy sleeping in a dry-cleaning bag.” he laughed all neighborly like, his stance relaxed, gun already cocked but down at his side as he was taking in all angles, corners and advantage points in the warehouse, “Or, you know what, it may have been a body bag.” he said lightly, counting up the weapons visible on the armed men, who were now moving closer, making obvious eye contact with one another and preparing to gun him down, “Either way, I think he's really considerate.” Wade mentally planned his first move, “Imagine how easy it’ll be for the police when they come to pick him up once he kicks it.” he raised his hands, shrugged, “I’m not so considerate though, the police are going to find lots of bodies, and zero bags.” he finished in a darker tone, eyes narrowed, right when one goon shouted to prompt the rest and Wade made the first head shot. 

And then it was on.

He got shot, because of course he did.  

Wade never actually tried to avoid getting shot, or taking any other ‘minor’ damage to his body, pretty much ever, because it was inefficient. The only wounds he actively avoided getting were head wounds, because depending on the severity of a head wound, it could slow him down or kill him briefly, which usually complicated his progress during a job. 

So, he got shot and kept going, and killed the people shooting him as he kept going. 

Good thing though, at some point Wade’s iPod finally got the memo and he ended up half dancing and singing while dismembering bad guys to the beat of Run DMC’s It’s Like That. 

It was as violent, hilarious and messy as he liked it, especially when the unarmed extras also started attacking him, which kept things interesting! One of them even attacked him with a spider lug wrench, which by the way, is great for using like a boomerang, except it doesn’t return. And the good tracks kept rolling. Staying Alive, September and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun took him through the second to last leg of the job, during which he was killing the few die hard’s as well as destroying and tearing down the entire operation in the warehouse, before moving on to cleaning up a few other ‘higher ups’ who were hiding the further he went in. 

He closed out the job on a high note, figurately and literally, and with the head of his mark literally rolling and arterial blood splatter painting the walls of the spot Wade had cornered him in, while singing, 

“♪ Some will win! Some will lose! Some were born to sing the blues! ♪” in his best falsetto, “♪ Oh, the movie never ends! It goes on and on, and on, and on!! ♪” he whipped his katana once sharply through the air to clean off some of the blood and then hummed the rest of the song as he re-sheathed it with an expert spin and twist of his wrist, before making his way back out of the warehouse. 

He'd timed it quite perfectly, the entire job only took him about twenty five minutes and he could hear sirens in the distance just as he was walking out of the half-on-fire warehouse, whistling along with Steve Perry’s fantastic vocals and feeling far less tense than he had a few hours earlier. 

“♪ Streetlights, people! Living just to find emotion. ♪” he started singing again as he stepped over bodies and body parts and through blood pools and wrecked drug packaging all over the floor, “♪ Hiding somewhere in the niiiiight! ♪” he hit the note pretty poorly and then continued to hum. 

The street outside of the warehouse was much quieter, and also much brighter thanks to the fire. Wade briefly paused to inhale the smell of smoke and burning bodies in the air and aaaahd in contentment . The high of a completed job never lasted very long usually, but then neither did the wounds, so he just tried to enjoy the former while it lasted. 

As he walked away from the warehouse, his stab wounds, burns and cuts having already healed, Wade heard two bullets falling out of him; the late ones that usually got lodged a little deeper. And any others even deeper that didn’t make it out of the entrance wound? Well, they either came out north or south at some point. He was still enjoying the high though, 

“♪ Don't stop believing! ♪” he half sang, half hummed as he strolled away from the destruction he’d caused, “♪ Hold on to that feeling, street ligh-! ♪” 

He cut himself off when his phone chimed in his pouch, so he pulled out his iPod to switch the music off, then pulled out his phone from a different pouch, answering the call without looking, putting the phone up to his masked ear, 

“Deadpool here, available for all your wet work needs. And before you ask what kind of wet work, the answer is yes.” he said pleasantly. 

“My walls could use replastering.” Weasel’s voice came through as dry, sardonic and nasally as usual. 

“Kinky.” Wade didn’t miss a beat, “I can do smooth or rough, with a thick, long-lasting finish.” 

“That’s disgusting.” Weasel deadpanned, “But seriously, I think the walls of this shitty apartment will collapse on me if I snore too loudly.” 

Wade found it odd that he wanted to smile at Weasel’s deadpan shit talk for the first time in so long, and he was tempted to quip back, but he swallowed it down and distracted himself by wiping blood off his glove onto his equally blood-stained pants, 

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked in a light, airy tone. 

“Got a new kill quest for you if you’re interested in a little international travel. Big criminal organization in Albania. Nothing supernatural or unusual; smuggling, money laundering, trafficking in arms and people and organs.” 

“Wow, they’re so busy. Really cornering all the markets there.” 

“Yep, and they also manage some occasional fraud, illegal gambling and embezzlement.” 

“Sounds fucktastic. I look forward to meeting them and taking their hands…and their arms, legs, eyes and balls. Not necessarily in that order.” 

Weasel was quiet for a beat, and Wade realized it was because Weasel was probably also unsure of whether to quip something back. They hadn’t done this yet, not since the early days after the blip and even then, it’d been hard to find a rhythm.  

After a few awkward seconds, Weasel’s tone was back to deadpan business, 

“Three main targets, 1.7 mil each, and a bonus 30k for every other extra person involved in the organization that you take out.” 

He had to strain to hear Weasel, the call quality dipping in and out, but he got the gist of it, 

“Oooh, I love bonuses.” he was already mentally planning his trip. 

“Alright, when do you leave?” 

“Book me a flight for tomorrow morning.” Wade decided, scrolling through his playlist again. 

“I’m not your secretary.” Weasel halfheartedly mumbled, sounding nervous about back talking. 

Wade was just about to remind him who paid his salary, but for some reason, the harsh, cold words didn’t make it out of his throat, instead he said, 

“Flight before noon, send me all the info.” and he hung up. 

And ok, his tone hadn’t been very nice, but it hadn’t been threatening either. 

Wade didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling more tolerant of Weasel, but he didn’t overthink it. Who the fuck had the time for that kind of self-reflection when Footloose just starting playing. 

Peter dropped into his bedroom through his window with a groan and a huff, not from pain though, just exhaustion and annoyance.  

The blue energy he’d seen had been some sort of power source harnessed from seemingly out of nowhere, or at least Peter wasn’t sure whether it was coming from the person who’d been using it or a hidden weapon. Thing was, he’d only caught a glimpse of the guy who’d been responsible for the series of small explosions and some property damage, because as soon as he’d showed up, before he’d even been able to think up a smart one liner, the guy had already spotted him. Then he’d done some sort of dramatic turn, shooting out a series of energy beams in Peter’s general direction before he’d just phased out of visibility.  

The beams had been haphazardly cast in his direction and had been super easy to dodge, clearly having been just a distraction so the guy could get away. And the way he’d disappeared could have been through so many means and ways that it left Peter still drawing a blank on who or what he was dealing with. There were too many people out there nowadays with superpowers, or who were mutants, or who had alien technology-based weaponry, or were smart enough to design their own gadgets.  

So, to venture a guess just yet as to what he was facing, was not possible without more to go on. 

Either way, the guy apparently hadn’t been looking for a fight, he’d just been firing his energy beams at random stationary objects on the street and some office buildings, the energy causing some explosions when it came into contact with certain more flammable things. But while the destruction level wasn’t major, still shitty, but not overkill, the problem was that there were people who’d been injured by the explosions caused.  

No casualties at least, a fact for which Peter was very glad. 

Not catching the guy bothered him though, but there was nothing he could do about it, not until the guy showed up again, which he would, because they always did. Peter had tried looking for him after he initially disappeared, he’d spent almost an hour at it, but when it hit 1 am he decided to call it. 

Presently, he dragged his feet as he crossed his bedroom to switch on the light, his iron suit starting to deconstruct itself on his mumbled command. He breathed in and then sighed out loudly just as he flicked on the light, his suit completely retracting the last of the way into the appearance of expensive, hi-tech ‘watch’ on his wrist, which, by pressing a button, he was able to detach it from his wrist, catching it in his other palm. 

He placed it on the nearest surface, which was a set of drawers by the room door, making a mental note to charge it at some point. Then after kicking and toeing off his dress boots, he walked into the living area. Peter was pulling off his button up shirt as he headed toward the kitchen, tossing it randomly toward the sofa, and only when he glanced down at his nerdy T-shirt, did the entire evening’s events finally snap back to him. 

WADE. 

THE ALLEY. 

THE QUESTION. 

THE CAR. 

“The car.” he whisper-yelled to himself as he stopped just outside the doorway to the kitchen, before turning sharply, hands landing on either side of the frame as he leaned forward to look at the floor by the apartment door. 

No key. 

“No key.” he breathed out, because there was in fact no key on the floor under the door. “Nokeynokeynokeynokey…” he started to chant as he low-key panicked while rushing across the living area on socked feet to the window. He caught himself on the ledge and pushed the curtain properly aside to look down onto the street. Left, he saw nothing, right he saw no- 

“-nokey…eeeeh, car, the car, the car is there.” he breathed out, spotting Pepper’s car parked across the road on the right side of his street facing window and immediately he felt relieved, and then very stupid. He stood up straight and shook his head, pushing his hands through his messy hair, 

“Of course the car is there, why wouldn’t it be? Why would Wade do anything with the car?” his voice was pitchy and a bit strained as he talked to himself in his unlit living area. “So stupid, he’s never been anything but trustworthy to me.” he muttered. 

But even as he said it, he felt guilty because he knew he’d been subconsciously worried about it since the moment he’d decided to let Wade drive. His internal struggle had been real as hell. He had so many trust issues because of…because of Beck. 

That bastard who’d lied to him, tricked and tried to kill him with a smile on his stupid, nice guy face. 

Peter had handed E.D.I.T.H over to him so trustingly. And while Pepper’s car was not nearly, anywhere even remotely as important or sensitive a piece of technology as E.D.I.T.H, Peter couldn’t help seeing too many parallels. Handing over something that wasn’t his to someone he barely knew, letting go of something valuable, something entrusted to him…just because Peter thought, and really wanted to believe, he could trust them. 

But Wade had come through yet again. 

He’d driven like a maniac, but he hadn’t totaled the car and no one had been hurt. 

He’d gotten Peter into the city really fast, and then he’d taken responsibility for the car, with Peter’s address handed over to him, and in the end, the car was there. Safe and sound. 

And Peter was home…even with his address, Spider-Man’s name and address, literally in the hands of someone who killed people for a living. Everything was fine. 

He smiled sadly, mentally apologizing to Wade. Wade, who really still hadn’t let him down. He was still being someone Peter could trust, even with every shitty, hasty decision Peter had made that evening, even after having to run off from their date. 

He sniffed a bit, feeling his eyes burn slightly. He was tired, and more than a little sad over the mess of trust issues he had, as well as the mess he was because of his desire for someone to trust. And what a complete contradiction, that maybe, maybe Wade could change that? A mercenary.  

He started to smile in a far dorkier way as he pushed himself off the windowsill and started walking back to his kitchen, ruffling his hair absently as he walked. Sure, Wade was a mess too, he seemed to have a very short fuse and he was prone to violence, and really cagey about personal information, but Peter could deal with that. If loss and being betrayed had taught him something, it was that people were really layered and complicated, and that no one was black and white. Wade was complicated, and Peter was willing to figure him out. Just as long as he could trust Wade, he was willing to make the effort and have the patience. 

When he reached the kitchen entrance again, he glanced at the apparent lack of key by the door. He stepped inside with a thoughtful frown, switching on the kitchen light as he started to consider possible scenarios about why Wade hadn’t left the key or where else he might have, when his eyes fell on said key on the counter beside his empty bread bin…and a stack of one, two...four...seven...seven boxes of pizza! 

“What the-” he breathed out, wide eyed and confused, his stomach suddenly, traitorously growling at the sight of the pizzas. “Oh, wow.” he walked over to the counter, taking in a deliberate breath so he could smell the cooled pizzas. They smelled so good! There were a lot of scents too, a lot of variety, but the delicious smell of cheese was the most prominent and Peter felt his mouth water.  

He hadn’t even thought about eating, but he knew himself well enough to know that when hunger caught up to him finally, he would have just had cereal, if there was any left, and if not, he would have warmed up some microwavable mac and cheese or lasagna. It wouldn’t have been enough, but he wouldn’t have bothered to eat more. 

But all the pizzas! Seven pizzas! 

Peter was about to unstack them when he saw a note written on a napkin under the keys in some oddly tidy, cursive like handwriting, with far better grammar than Wade’s texts had had. He slipped it out from under the keys and read it; 

Hi baby boi   

I’ve never said this before, but I’m sorry I came inside. I couldn’t help myself it was just too tempting.

I didn’t snoop tho, scouts honor. Hope you can forgive me. Anyhoo, you had no food (worth eating)

and I couldn’t accept that. There’s an open tab for you now at Rizzo’s bee tee dubs, courtesy of moi.

Use it anytime.  

DP   

Ps: theres coke in the fridge  

Peter, ears red, just stared at the note in which Wade had not only managed to make a sexual innuendo right off the bat, but had also written out ‘bee tee dubs’ in full words instead of just writing ‘by the way’. He’d also not at all explained why he’d technically broken into Peter’s apartment. And once again Peter had to question his sensibility and life choices, because he was smiling , and rereading the stupid note and not feeling particularly concerned that Wade had illegally entered his home. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Wade had been in his apartment until reading the note. 

After reading the note a third time, he fidgeted with the napkin between his fingers while looking again at the stack of pizza boxes, they’d obviously gone cold because it’d been a few hours, but even cold pizza was great. Glancing one more time at the note, he placed it down on the counter and grabbed the very top box before he turned to the side and easily hopped up to sit on the counter next to the boxes. 

He opened the box and hummed his appreciation at all the meat on the pizza; pepperoni, bacon, meat balls and sausage. Wade had to have just been guessing for whatever mix of pizzas he ordered, but damn, the first one was already a winner. Peter situated the box in his lap before peeling out a large slice and taking a huge bite out of it. 

“Ohmagohd, sho’ good.” he smiled around his mouthful. It’d actually been a while since he’d had pizza. Most days, eating felt like a chore to Peter. He couldn’t cook and he was often not home for long enough to order delivery or he was sleeping. Buying takeout during patrol was a little awkward in his suit and all the food he had at home was easy to make stuff that didn’t always taste good, and also didn’t quite pass as sustenance most of the time. 

He finished his first slice in three bites and then he shifted the box onto the counter, grabbed a second slice and fished his cell out of his pocket with his clean hand. He pulled up Wade’s number and typed out a text; 

Thx for the pizza n for

dropping off the car.

Rly appreciate it.  

He contemplated saying ‘I owe you one’, but something told Peter Wade would dismiss such a comment. Hell, the man had said he could reimburse Pepper for her car if need be. So, Peter could infer that Wade was probably well off financially. Buying some pizza probably didn’t even faze him. He finished his second slice and decided to send the text as it was, leaving it open ended because he expected Wade would reply.  

He continued to eat, finishing a box and a half of pizza and drinking more than half of one of the seven 2 litre cokes in his fridge –one for each pizza, Peter figured-, and then he decided to take a shower.  

His shower was refreshing, but he was still hungry, so despite having brushed his teeth, he went back to the kitchen to warm up and eat another half a pizza. He chased it with a bottle of water and once he felt satisfied, he packed all the boxes into the fridge, barely managing to stuff and puzzle piece the remaining boxes in there. 

He sort of figured it out, although the arrangement was precarious, but he was too lazy to bother with it anymore. So, he left it as it was and left the kitchen, switching off the lights as he went, and once he was back in this room, he pushed the door shut, crashed in bed and fell asleep almost immediately. He was so damn tired he didn’t even check his phone, so he didn’t realize Wade hadn’t texted him back. 

Peter had no classes the next day, and nothing urgent he needed to do, and since he hadn’t set an alarm, the result was that the day ended up being wasted. He woke up at 1.27 PM the following afternoon. 

He was still half out of it, lying on his back in bed and trying to shake off his sleep when he reached for his cell phone on the nightstand. Aside from some service and social media notifications, he had exactly three texts. The first one was from May, received at 6 AM that morning, asking whether he’d been at the site of the attack in the city last night and why he didn’t text her to say he was home safe. He felt super bad for forgetting, but it wasn’t the first time, and wouldn’t be the last that he’d forget. He knew that. 

His next text was from Happy, reminding him to drop off Pepper’s car at S.I. And the final one was from May again, saying if he didn’t answer her in fifteen minutes, she was coming over. 

“Fifteen minutes…” he mumbled, and while he was rubbing one eye with the heel of his palm, he quickly checked the time stamp of the message with the other. It was sent at 12.56 pm. 

“Shit.” Peter sat up, realizing that the time meant- 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK 

The steady knocks resounded through his quiet apartment, and of course Peter knew it was absolutely May. She didn’t joke around about that stuff, especially if she was worried, and she had an emergency spare key which meant- 

The sound of the apartment door being unlocked and opened came right on cue, followed by a soft thud, the door closing and then footsteps that got louder until May was saying, 

“Peter?” just outside his door, which, curiously, she hadn’t just opened to come inside like she usually would have. In fact, she knocked again, “Peter, I really need you to answer me if you’re in there.” 

Peter was confused where he was sitting in bed, still sleep rumpled, wearing a wrinkled T shirt and a plain pajama pants, his duvet half wrapped around his legs and waist and his hair in disarray.  

When May was worried, she wasn’t usually so…polite. 

He cleared his throat, 

“Uh, yeah, I’m here, May. Come in.” 

The door immediately opened and May... peeked in, and then after a glance around, she opened the door fully and stepped inside, hands on her hips, 

“Why didn’t you text me, you know how worried I get.” she scolded, looking thoroughly unimpressed and truthfully a little strained around her eyes and mouth from worrying. 

Peter ruffled his bed head, wondering what she’d been looking for when she peeked in, 

“Uh, sorry, I got back really late, I…” he remembered her first text, “I did end up going to check out what was happening, but I couldn’t catch the guy.” he shrugged, drawing his legs up to sit cross legged as he dropped his hands into his lap, “Sorry for making you worry, I try not to forget but-” 

“It’s fine, it’s okay,” she sighed, probably used to his excuses after so long, “I know that whole ‘no news is good news’ thing, but I still get worried.” she walked over to the window then, back to glancing around the room. She stopped there and opened the curtains, letting in the morning light and making Peter squint against it, “So, I guess your date got cut short?” she asked lightly. 

Peter looked down at the phone in his hand, also sighing,  

“Yeah.” he breathed out, stomach feeling a little tight with anxiousness about how his Spider-Man life had ruined his relationship with MJ, not wanting the same thing to happen with Wade. Wade…who, he finally realized, hadn’t texted him back. 

“Was he okay with you having to go off, your date?” 

“Yeah.” Peter was tapping into his message thread with Wade, “He understands the whole superhero thing, didn’t seem to mind when I had to take off, was actually helpful and supportive about it.” he rambled as he saw that his message was received and read, but there was no reply. Quickly, his stomach started to twist into a more anxious knot, wondering if Wade was ignoring him for some reason. 

“Oh, really.” May said in weird tone. 

Peter stopped frowning at his phone and turned his head to frown at her instead, starting to say, 

“Yea-…” but then, looking at the next level unimpressed look she was giving him, Peter played their conversation back in his head, and in the next second his eyes were widening and he was tossing his phone aside and quickly untangling himself from the duvet so he could stand up, “I can explain-” 

“Explain? Explain what, Peter?” she cut him off just as he got to his feet, “That you’re dating a man who also happens to know you’re Spider-Man ?” she asked in the same weird tone with the same unimpressed look. Peter’s anxiousness was really piling up now, 

“Yeah, yes, I-I can explain it, I-” 

“Peter.” she said his name in a way he knew meant he should stop talking, and then her unimpressed look turned sad and she was approaching him and frowning and then holding his face in her comfortingly warm hands, “Sweetheart, you don’t need to explain yourself.” 

Oh? Okay. Yeah. That was good, she wasn’t mad. 

“I just wish you wouldn’t have felt the need to keep it a secret in the first place.” she sighed again, shaking her head at him, and her hands slipped from his face to his shoulders, “You know I’m not going to pry into your personal life,” which was true, she never had been overly nosey, always just standing by. She was so great, “but I would like to know when something major happens.” 

Major? Okay, yeah. Major, like a development in sexual orientation and dating someone who knew he was Spider-Man? Yeah, Peter supposed that wasn’t too much to ask all things considered. He could let her know stuff like that, it wouldn’t hurt her. Wade would never hurt her. Peter felt so certain of that it was crazy.  

“Okay, okay, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I-I get it.” he reached up and squeezed her elbows, “In my defense though, it’s all really new, May. I’m still figuring it out.” he decided to be honest about it. 

“New?” she lowered her hands, placed them back on her hips absently, “How new?” 

“Uh, like, last night was the first date, new.” 

“Oh.” she looked genuinely surprised, “Oh! Okay, I thought it was…” she waved a hand and shook her head, laughing slightly, eyes wrinkling as she half rolled her eyes. 

Peter laughed too, but with a frown, not understanding, 

“You thought it was what?” he asked confused and curious. 

“It’s just the way you said it was really important and you were in such a hurry last night,” she looked at him and shrugged, “so I thought maybe it was a big night and you had,” she raised an eyebrow, “special plans.” 

“Spe-…like what?” 

“Well, let’s just say I thought I was going to come over and find you not alone.” she snorted out, gesturing to the bed behind Peter, whose ears lit up red very fast, 

“May! Ugh, come on!” he placed a hand over his eyes. 

“Oh, please, don’t be so awkward about sex, Peter.” she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not awkward, it’s just we…we haven’t even, like, kissed or anything and you’re talking about…” he gestured randomly with his other hand, May rolling her eyes again and pushing his flailing hand down, 

“Whose fault is it that I don’t know anything about this guy? That I didn’t even know there was a guy !” she held onto his arm and started to drag him out of the room. Peter went along, groaning, helpless, hand still over his eyes. “On that note, I’m going to make you something to eat, because I know how bad you are at feeding yourself, and in the meantime, you’re going to tell me about this guy.” 

“Aw, come on, May, I’m not that bad.” he lied and she didn’t even acknowledge it, just dragged him into the kitchen, where she finally let go of his arm, 

“So, what’s his name?” she asked as she crossed the kitchen, heading to the fridge and pulling it open. 

A pizza box dislodged itself from the puzzle and fell out onto the floor, and of course, so did the pizza itself, right onto May’s open-sandled feet; toppings side down. 

She stared at it.  

Peter’s hand slid to the lower half of his face and he glanced from her to it, and back to her, eyes a little wide. May looked at him, her ponytail swinging over her shoulder,  

“Why do you have an entire pizzeria in your fridge?” 

Peter shrugged and then hunched his shoulders up as he gestured toward the pizza on the floor, 

“Wade ordered them for me, he said I had no food worth eating and he couldn’t accept that.” he left out the part about how Wade had been in his apartment by himself and illegally at the time. 

“Wade. Is that his name?” Maye leaned down and picked the pizza up, pushing it back into the box on the floor. The pizza was cold, so the mess wasn’t too bad. 

“Yeah. Wade.” Peter felt uncomfortable talking about Wade. 

Something about it felt…premature? 

“I like him already.” she’d grabbed a half-finished paper towel roll off the counter and was cleaning up the slight mess on the floor and her feet and sandles, “Feeding you is like pulling teeth.” 

“Hey, that’s not fair, I’m literally out, like, protecting people and-” 

“So, he knows you’re Spider-Man, huh, how’d that happen?” she was up now, walking over to the bin, throwing away the bunched-up towels and putting the pizza box on the counter. 

Peter really had no idea how to fully answer that, so he went with some truth and lots of omission, 

“He just, uh, saw me one time, without my mask on…after a sort of, bad fight, and he…he helped me. Didn’t make a big deal out of seeing my face, you know.” 

She was washing her hands at the sink now, 

“And you trust him not to use that info-…” 

“Before the blip.” 

A beat of silence. 

May stopped and looked at him, hands unmoving inside the dish towel she was drying them with, 

“Before the blip?” she asked. 

“Yeah, I met him before the blip. And then I never saw him again, until like, a few weeks ago.” he clarified, watching as she nodded slowly, before stepping over to the two grocery bags she’d brought with her, which were on the counter where the pizzas had been the night before. 

The car key was still there, but Peter had put the note away the night before, thankfully .  

“Wow, okay. So, all these years?” she asked, starting to unpack. 

“All these years.” he reassured, walking over and starting to help her unpack the grocery bags. “A while before Thanos, and after Thanos...after Tony.” 

She stopped again, 

“After Thanos?” Peter nodded, placing stuff on the counter to be put away, “He didn’t blip?” she asked, and Peter slowly shook his head. 

May stopped unpacking, sighing sadly. She always felt bad for those left behind during the blip. 

Peter stayed quiet as she stood thinking about whatever was going on in her head. He gathered some stuff off the counter to start putting them away, and he’d just opened an overhead cabinet when May asked a question he was not ready for, 

“How old is he?” 

Peter nearly dropped the peanut butter, but his reflexes spared him, and he turned to look at May with the jar cradled in his arms. She was holding a bag of apples and staring at him and Peter just shook his head once, 

“I mean, with the blip, age is really complicated, May and-…” 

For some reason what he’d just said seemed to make her look worried and angry at the same time, 

“He was older than you, wasn’t he? When you met him before the blip?” 

Peter’s head was doing something like a shake and a nod, 

“He was, I mean, yeah…a lot of people are older than fiftee-…” 

“Peter.” that tone again, “How old is he?” 

“I don’t know.” he admitted, voice pitching. 

“You don’t know!” 

“I mean, I never asked-…” not true, not true. 

She huffed, not impressed, one hand back on her hip, 

“Well, how old do you think he is?” 

“Thirty!” he blurted, “Maybe, uh-early thirties.” he was completely winging it. It was the oldest age he could come up with that he thought May wouldn’t freak out about too much . 

Earlier thirties compared to early twenties wasn’t too bad, right? 

“And you’re okay with that?” she asked sternly, but it seemed Peter wasn’t completely off the mark about his age choice, because she seemed less angry and less worried. 

“Yeah, I am, I don’t, I don’t mind.” which felt true when he said it, “He, we, I mean…I-” he put the peanut butter in the cupboard, picked up the box of Twinkies, having no idea what he could say to validate why he didn’t mind. And he trying desperately to come up with something, but then May said, 

“He must be really hot.” and Peter just stood there, box of Twinkies halfway into the cupboard. 

He didn’t look at her, instead he pictured Wade with a few blinks.  

Tall, built and ripped and solid. Noticeable even in normal clothes. And even though the mask hid his face, it expressed well enough that Peter felt like he still saw a part of Wade’s facial expressions, could see the proportions of his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the broadness of his smile. There was also the size of his hands, and when they’d been pressed together, the size and feel of other thin- 

“Okay, well, I don’t even need an answer with that look on your face.” May said sounding amused, and she was moving again, having abandoned unpacking, leaving it to Peter as she made her way over to the stove with a carton of eggs in hand. Peter snapped out of it, opening his mouth to say something, but not sure what look exactly had been on his face, he just closed his mouth and smiled a little stupidly as he continued packing stuff away. 

They were quiet for a few minutes as Peter packed everything away in the right place and May fried up some breakfast-lunch food. Peter had just finished packing the items away when May was plating some eggs, overly crispy bacon and toast. So, breakfast. Peter liked breakfast, and May was pretty good at making bacon and eggs. She only burned it too badly sometimes. 

They sat down to eat at the small kitchen table, and as usual they were quiet while eating. Halfway through, May got up and went to the fridge to retrieve the orange juice she’d bought, so Peter quickly got up too, to grab glasses. When they had filled the glasses and were sitting down again, something occurred to Peter, so he asked, 

“Why did you think it was going on for a while?” 

May looked up from her food, chewed a bit more and then sipped some OJ before shrugging, 
“You’ve been weird for the last few weeks, distracted during calls and scarce with texts. I knew something was going on, I was just worried it was something bad.” she pushed her ponytail back from her shoulder and leaned back in her chair, smiling slightly at Peter across the table, “But it seems like it’s the opposite.” she smirked, “You’ve got a boyfriend, Peter.” and winked. 

Peter dropped his forked and leaned his head back as he groaned and May giggled, 

“Maaaay, seriously.” he dropped his head forward again, trying to pout but he couldn’t help smiling at her glee, “First date, May.” he reminded her. 

“Right, right.” she waved a hand and picked up her fork to stab her last piece of bacon, “No kissing, yet, right?” 

That actually got Peter down quite a bit and he lowered his head, looking at his plate, trying to hide his sad-anxiousness about Wade’s mask and the fact that the man hadn’t texted him, 

“Wasn’t really a chance.” he mumbled. 

“Oh yeah, Spider-Man duty calls.” she sounded sympathetic about it at least. Peter just shrugged, picked his own fork back up, “But he’s okay with the whole superhero thing, that’s nice, right?” 

“It’s nice.” Peter supposed, but that was a given, since Wade knew what being a super was like. He wondered if he should tell May that Wade was a super, a mutate like him, but then she’d just have more questions to which he didn’t have answers. So, not yet. 

“What does he do for work? Is he wealthy?” 

“May?!” Peter said around the food in his mouth and frowned at her, confused by the bluntness of the second question. She wasn’t fazed, 

“He knows you’re Peter Parker and Spider-Man, so he knows you’re connected to the Avengers and will probably find out you’re connected to the Stark’s,” Peter blinked at her, “Or he already knows that?” Peter didn’t answer directly, he just swallowed his food and shook his head, 

“He’s not interested in money,” money Peter didn’t even exactly have in any real tangible way, “he’s got money.” he said honestly. She nodded, 

“Okay. That’s good, so he’s not a deadbeat or a mooch and he’d be able to take care of you financially.” 

Peter was perplexed, what was he? A housewife? 

“I can take care of myself.” he said quite seriously. 

“I think calling this,” she gestured around with her fork, “taking care of yourself, is a bit of a stretch.” 

“May.” he said a bit stiffly, a little offended. 

 But she looked at him sternly and leaned forward, 

“The Avengers aren’t stable, Peter. I wasn’t even fully privy to what went on with them but I know there was a lot of in-fighting.” Peter just stared at her, thinking it was probably stuff she’d heard from Happy, “And sure, Tony Stark left you that advanced intelligence system, but he was the glue of the whole Avengers thing, wasn’t he?” Peter just blinked. “And now he’s not here to hold it together anymore and Pepper is distancing herself from the business, she wants to focus on Morgan. So, if Stark Industries get sold at some point in the future, or if the Avengers completely fall apart, or if literally anything, of all the unpredictable things that have and could still happen, happens, are you going to be able to hold down a decent job while being Spider-Man? Or even graduate from university if something happens before that?” she was dead serious now and Peter was quiet, tension and anxiousness returning. 

She set her cutlery down, sat up straighter, sighed and looked worried as she went on, 

“I know you will never give up being Spider-Man.” she was right, “So, how will you live? If you don’t graduate, what kind of work will you do, how much will it pay? If you do graduate, how will you hold down a job? New York is expensive Peter, and it has a lot crime, how will you manage that life?” she shook her head and leaned forward, placed her hand on her forehead, “I think about this a lot, and I think about how you’ll manage after I’m…gone.” 

“May…” Peter sat forward too, feeling stressed by her lecturing, but very true, words. 
“I worry about you.” she sniffed. 

Peter needed to lighten the mood, because his chest was starting to hurt just thinking about losing her, 

“Yeah, he’s got money, okay…but, first date , May.” he laughed, just this side of watery. 

She laughed too, also a little watery and looked up at him, reached across the table and Peter did as well, holding the hand she reached out with, 

“I know, sweety, but that Spider-Man suit is really tight, make that work for you.” 

“Maaaay!” Peter took his hand back so he could hold his hands over his ears and bang his forehead down on the table lightly. 

May was laughing now, and the sound made Peter smile, even though she couldn’t see it, and even though he was blushing because she was not wrong . Her laughter made him feel happy though, and less anxious. 

“But seriously, whoever you end up with.” her laughter was tapering off and she was still sniffing, but when Peter looked up, despite her eyes being a bit wet behind her glasses, she was still smiling, “I want it to be someone who understands you, who you can trust and who can be there for you. Someone who can deal with who you are as yourself and as Spider-Man.” Peter sniffed too, thinking it should have sounded too good to be true, but Wade…Wade was close to it. 

Wade, who Peter still hadn’t seen the face of. Wade, whose age he didn’t know. Wade, who was a mercenary. Wade, who hadn’t texted him back yet after their first date the night before. 

When May wiggled her fingers on the table, Peter immediately reached out and took her hand again,  

“If it turns out to be an older guy who kept your secret for years, and then knew he needed to get you to eat properly after just the first date , as long as he continues to put that look on your face you had earlier, I can accept it.” 

“What look?” Peter decided he wanted to know. 

“A dreamy-sweet, hopeful look.” she turned around to grab the paper towel roll off the counter, ripped one off and removed her glasses to dab at her eyes, “That was a look I last saw on your face in the early days of your relationship with MJ. The look of wanting to fall in love.” she sniffed again. 

Her words really scared Peter, because Peter didn’t want to be falling in love too quickly. He still barely knew Wade. He really needed to know Wade better. 

“First date, May.” he repeated, a little more tense now. 

She saw through him, 

“I get it, Peter. You want to be careful. You need to be.” she reached out to squeeze his hand again, “I’m glad to hear that you’re not going into this blindly, keeping your head on straight. I’m proud of you, but also happy that you’re trying again.” 

Peter’s eyes were watery now too, 

“Thanks, May.” he smiled, squeezing her hand in return. 

A beat of silence, and then, 

“Do you have a picture of him?” she asked in all innocence. 

Peter smiled, somewhat awkwardly and shook his head, 

“No, I, uh, don’t…sorry.” 

“Surprising, what with social media and all that.” she said, openly calling Peter on his bullshit. 

“Yeeeeah.” was all he could say, looking down at his almost empty plate. 

“Ah, not ready for me to see him.” she said, always so good at figuring Peter out. 

Peter just looked at her, eyes earnest, teeth pressed hard into his bottom lip as he shook his head once. 

May just nodded, 

“Okay, when you’re ready.” she smiled. 

“Thanks, May.” he said again and sniffed softly, “You’re always so awesome. Love you.” he mumbled the last two words and she winked, 

“I know I’m awesome.” Peter half snorted, still nodding, “And I love you, too.” 

Another beat of silence, then, 
“Now finish your food and you better wash the dishes, don’t leave them to stand. I’m going to go home. Happy wants to watch some sappy romcom.” she half rolled her eyes and Peter just nodded again, sitting back as their hands separated and she stood up. He watched her walk over to her handbag on the counter and then she turned to look at him and added, “And drop that car off for Pepper as soon as possible, it stands out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood.” then she was smiling, ponytail swinging as she turned and said bye. 

Peter managed to say ‘bye’, raising a hand to wave even though she didn’t see it, then the door closed and she was gone. 

He leaned back more heavily and slid down a bit in the chair, sniffing again, and then he quickly got up and rushed to his room to grab his phone to check for any texts…but there were none. 

Peter’s stomach sunk. Wade still hadn’t answered. 

It was quite literally pouring with rain in Albania. Not even just cats and dogs. Like, elephants and giraffes, or some other large animal that was not a domestic, small fluffy pet. Where did that expression even fucking come from? As idioms went, it was definitely one of the dumbest ones because who even looked at rain and thought ‘oh, cats and dogs’. 

“So fucking stupid.” he muttered as he idly looked through the scope of his Ruger sniper rifle. The rain was really fucking up his 100% clarity preference. He made a face under his mask, tilting his head as he watched two of his three main targets having a nice long chat inside a conference room of a building about 700 meters away. 

“Why am I here?” Weasel asked from where he was sitting on the double bed of the hotel room at Tirana International Hotel. 

They were not sharing a hotel room, because no. That would be gross…for both of them.  

The hotel room was just for surveillance purposes. Tirana didn’t have a whole lot of high buildings, and the Downtown One didn’t offer Wade the angles he needed to surveil his targets. So they’d ended up at the hotel. 

As for Weasel, 

“What can I say, when I saw you this morning, I felt like you could use-…” 

“A getaway? Some sunshine? A-” 

“I hate being interrupted.” he said, voice dead-cold. It was a warning, one Weasel immediately heeded from the tone of Wade’s voice alone, his sarcastic spiel cut off. Wade could practically hear him glaring, it was that intense and angry and fearful. He didn’t feel bad, he didn’t. Fuck Weasel. 

Wade was grinding his teeth, but he forced himself to unclench his jaw and, more or less calmly, he said, 

“I was going to say, I felt like you could use a near death experience, you know, have some fun.” Weasel snorted. Heh. Weasel hadn’t been a contract killer broker for no reason. Small balls had he, but of steel they were made. Wade smirked, “But a tan would make you look less pallid and malnourished.” 

“Almost dying is your idea of fun.” Weasel grumbled. 

“Well, I never said I thought it would be fun for you.” 

Weasel grumbled what was definitely a profane noun that likened Wade to an anus, and Wade kept smirking under his mask. Honestly, no matter how scared he was, Weasel would always talk back eventually, and maybe…maybe Wade had always kind of liked that about him. 

And the fact that Wade liked his company was actually the reason Weasel was with him. Weasel just didn’t need to know that. See, Wade had gone over to Weasel’s very shitty apartment in a hurry that morning because he’d needed some last-minute information vetted. And he’d always known most of Weasel’s money went on the super-tech he kept and collected, but it turns out Weasel’s income from having just him as an employer, was about a tenth of what it used to be back when he’d run Sister Margret’s. And it really showed. 

Wade had felt like he’d stepped into one of his hovel-like safehouses back when he’d still been going through the worst of the post-blip era. Weasel was really living low, it had never been a great place, not since Wade had first gone there after the blip, but the apartment seemed to have gotten a million times worse in the months and months passed since their previous relationship dynamic had been crushed under the weight of Wade’s dangerous unpleasantness. And Weasel, who Wade also rarely saw face to face these days, did in fact look like utter shit. 

And it had bothered Wade. 

Wade hadn’t felt bothered by anything in a while, so something was starting to make shit get under his skin. Or maybe not something, rather someone. He suspected he knew exactly why he was starting to feel feelings of a less than violent nature again, and he didn’t know how to feel about the new feelings causing his old feelings to be felt. 

Fuck.  

Hence, Weasel being with him in Albania. 

He didn’t want Weasel to know he felt bad, so he’d threatened Weasel into coming with him, claiming he’d need Weasel to help him with some tech stuff, so that after the trip was over, he’d have an excuse to give Weasel a ‘bonus’. A fat ass bonus. 

Weasel was quite aware that Wade spent money very frivolously, and Weasel was…well, weaselly and desperate, so he wasn’t going to overthink it or ask any questions if Wade threw money at him. It was a win-win, unless Weasel got killed. But that was a chance Wade was willing to take. 

“Wish it could have at least been sunny here, it’s never sunny in New York.” Weasel said, sounding every kind of depressed and Wade turned his face away from his scope to stare at Weasel pointedly from where he was by the window. And he considered offering an argument to that statement, because it was often sunny in New York, but honestly, before very, very recently, he’d kind of 100% understood exactly what Weasel was talking about.  

He turned back to the scope, still seeing nothing significant happening through it, 

“Next job, let's go somewhere sunny, okay buddy.” he said tightly. Feeling bad again. 

“I’d rather die in my moldy, shithole apartment than go anywhere with you ever again.” Weasel said blandly. 

Wade smirked again, feeling irritation and amusement warring inside him. 

Not too long ago, like literally a month ago, he might have smashed a window and dangled Weasel –or absolutely anyone who spoke to him like that- out of the window until they apologized and at least pissed themselves. But interestingly enough, his irritation didn’t get there, and his amusement won out. 

Weasel was holding his breath though, Wade could hear him not breathing. Hah! Funny. 

But, all Wade said was, 

“Noted.”  

So much for Weasel’s bonus, because Wade was still an asshole. Weasel had that much ab-so-fucking-lutely correct. 

Silence fell in the room then, the rain continued, and eventually Weasel took in a breath and Wade just watched his targets and made some mental notes here and there. He was still wondering what fucking idiot had come up with ‘raining cats and dogs’.  

Maybe he’d ask Peter.  

Ah, Peter. 

Peter. 

Wait. Waaaaait. Peter. Hadn’t Peter texted him? Had...had he replied? He couldn’t recall.  

He didn’t think so? He didn’t... 

“Shit.” he said gruffly, looking away from the scope of the rifle mounted on its stand. He was sitting in the hotel sofa chair and he patted his hoodie and jeans down quickly, the eyes of his mask scrunching up as realization dawned on him when he felt nothing on him. “Shit fuck .” Weasel just stared at him with his most deadpan expression. Wade leaned his head on the sofa back and groaned, “Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” 

Because yes, fuuuuuuuuuuuck , he had no fucking idea where his cell phone was! 

The one fucking time he’d needed to bring his personal cell with him on a job and he’d lost it! Or forgotten it? He had no idea. At some point he’d lost track of it. He couldn’t remember seeing it since before he’d left NY two days earlier. 

And yeah, he had a shit ton of burners, but not a single one of them had Peter’s number in them. 

The worst part was, this wasn’t the first time this had happened to him…he’d used to forget his phone or lose it, or break it, back when’d he’d been with Vanessa. And she’d sometimes be so pissed at him. Not fake pissed, but real pissed. Peter was definitely going to be real pissed. 

What else could he expect? They’d just gone out for the first time and now with no contact, it’d be like Wade had ghosted him! 

He sat forward and abruptly started to dismantle the sniper stand. 

His hasty actions finally got Weasel’s attention from where he’d started playing on his cell phone, 

“What the fuck? Did something happen?” he stood up just when Wade did, rifle in one hand, folded stand in the other. He tossed the rifle to Weasel, who caught the heavy gun still looking puzzled, 

“Pack it up, we’re getting this shit done now.” 

“But you said 72 hours of surve-” 

“As in right.fucking.now. ” Wade snapped, gathering up his things spread around on the bed and floor, pulling his weapons bag over to him before shoving his shit into it and zipping the large duffel closed. 

“Jesus. Okay.” Weasel complied verbally, although he’d already been packing the rifle into its case. 

“I know where their hideout is, we’re getting this done asap so I can get back to New York.” Wade said irritably as he grabbed his stupid burner phone off the bedside cabinet, shouldered the heavy weapons bag and headed toward the door. 

Weasel snapped the rifle case shut and quickly followed, 

“Why the hurry back to New York, hot date?” he asked sarcastically as he pulled the hotel door shut and they started down the fancy hallway toward the elevators. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Wade yell-growled at him and then added in his fake nice tone, “Or I’ll take you along on the hit and use you as a human meat shield.”  

And Weasel did, in fact, shut the fuck up. 

The thing about rushing a job as big as the one in Tirana, was that shit could go sideways so easily. 

The planning wouldn’t mean anything if you didn’t do enough surveillance to make sure you had enough ammo, knew the comprehensive layout of the area you were entering, or making sure the bad guys had no means of hiding, slipping away or had no hidden aces up their sleeves. Without those things locked down, it would almost definitely turn out to be a real mess. 

Good thing, for Wade, that was how he worked nine times out of ten. 

So, while it was absolutely fucking wild and messy with far more destruction and carnage than would probably have been necessary if he’d followed the plan he’d originally laid out -in crayon, with colourful post its and glitter markers-, the job ended up done. 

Oh yeah, so done. Well done.  

Wade had found a flamethrower, in the hands of some guy he’d killed, as he made his way through the levels, lucky, lucky. And after he’d taken out forty-seven minions throughout the building, having specifically saved the flamethrower for last, he lit the remaining primary target up like a bonfire on Guy Fawkes Day. So yes, a job well done . Toasty.  

The bad thing was, due to the rush job, he was sloppier than usual. So, aside from the bullet, explosive and other miscellaneous wounds he’d unnecessarily incurred in his hurry, which were already healing by the time he was leaving the building, he’d also almost lost part of his left leg from the shin down! 

He hadn’t expected a minion to be able to throw a hatchet that well! 

But after a many, many, many times of losing limbs over the years, Wade had figured out that if the wound was completely fresh and hadn’t started to heal over too much yet, if he still had the dismembered limb nearby, all he had to do was place the two severed ends together and his limb would reattach . 

It was both really fucking gross and super fucking convenient. He really wished he’d known about that trick in that past when he’d lost both legs -more than once. It was a huge time saver. 

In the end the biggest loss on the job actually, was his suit. It was all fucked up.  

Wade had someone who made his suits for him though, for a long time already. It was an elderly man he’d found in Florida years back. He’d been left behind with no family after the blip and he’d been trying to earn a living by offering tailoring services. Wade had seen his ad and had hired him without even caring what his name was. He’d literally just employed him on the spot, because at the time he’d only had three suits he’d made himself, rather painstakingly, and all of them had been held together by duct tape and he’d had another job coming up.  

The old man had turned out to be great though, so Wade had kept him on the payroll ever since. And he was paid really well for his labor, but also for discretion, as well as consistency in Wade’s preferred suit materials, specifications and appearance, and also for being available at literally any time he wanted a suit mended or made and express delivered to him. 

So, he had suits, not a ridiculous amount, but a good amount. 

The problem was, none of them were with him in Albania.  

And the problem with that, was that it added one more stop he had to make in New York before he could go out looking for Peter, because he didn’t want to risk being in civilian clothes around Peter again so soon. The chance of a slip of skin being revealed in a scenario where Peter was either forgiving or pissed off, Wade didn’t want to risk. As it was, he’d already been gone without communication for four days, so he was expecting a bad reception. And he knew he could just find Peter’s contact info illegally, but Wade didn’t want the next time Peter heard from him after this fuck up of his, to be through a phone. He was romantic and impractical –and a dumbass- like that.  

So, by the time the job was all wrapped up and Wade was back in NY mid-morning, having been paid in full, including 30k a head for the twenty-two extra minions he’d killed, he was up to five whole fucking days without having had contact with Peter. For that reason, there was a genuine urgency in him when he rushed out of Weasel’s crappy apartment building and into a private cab he’d told Weasel to call for him.  

He ended up at his nearest safehouse in Foxhurst, where he tossed his bags wherever, stripped out of his clothes and then spent an hour showering and cleaning himself up to the point he felt he was worthy of Peter. Well, as much as he could feel worthy. He then dressed in one of his perfectly intact, almost new suits, even taking a few forced seconds, feeling nauseous, as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, before he put his mask on. 

He didn’t overdo it on the weapons side of things, just donning a pair of his varied katana sets, his usual Desert Eagles, a few concealed and not concealed knives, a can of pepper spray and a taser. He didn’t take a single grenade! That was progress. And he didn’t even bother to go to his actual apartment to check for his phone since he didn’t know if it was even there at all, instead he just used a new burner phone to pull up a search for the latest Spider-Man sightings as he left his safehouse around noon. 

He spent the entire afternoon tracking Spider-Man sightings as they were being updated online, which were inconsistent and infrequent because either Spidey hadn’t been out and about at first, or later when there were sightings, he was moving too fast. Wade also tried following his own instincts on which direction the webbed wonder was likely to go next, but he’d never before actively looked for Spider-Man in the city, so he was finding it really tricky and difficult to keep up. And he actually briefly, frustratedly, considered putting that sense thing Spidey had to use, by causing some trouble so Peter would find him instead, but even Wade knew that would not be a good idea. 

And he knew...he knew he could just wait it out and go to Peter’s place and wait around for him come home. Outside. He'd wait outside. But after he’d been inside Peter’s apartment without Peter’s permission and he presently had no idea whether Peter even wanted to see him, he thought that might be crossing a line somehow. 

So he kept looking, kept chasing, kept getting more frustrated. 

And then just when darkness had settled over the city, Wade finally caught a fucking break. 

He was presently walking down a busy sidewalk, people avoiding him as they tended to do when he was in a noticeably bad mood and heavily armed. 

He was still following updates on his phone, and the most recent one had put Spidey in and around the general area he was walking around. He hadn’t expected the lead to work out any better than the others he’d been following, but when he looked up and around to check if he could see the sexy younger super up on any buildings, he was pleasantly surprised, and fucking relieved, to see Spider-Man come into sight, having just come around the corner of a building, swinging overhead, a block down from where Wade was. 

Wade watched him, noting his slowing speed and arcing trajectory before he disappeared onto a rooftop, and as far as Wade could tell, those movements meant he was possibly going to stop on that nearby building. The last sighting post was about him stopping a car collision on a street nearby, so Peter was probably going to stand by and wait for whatever came next, which was perfect! If he stayed in one place for even just the next five minutes at least, Wade could get to the roof of that building in time. 

So, he moved.  

Wade slipped out of the crowd, just off the sidewalk and partially into the street, and he ran, weaving and dodging the people and obstacles that were still in his way. Once he’d run the length of the block, he took off across the busy street, moving and dodging between cars and sliding and jumping across and over one or two hoods. Then he was entering the necessary alley and at a full sprint, he made a running jump to grab on, and pull himself up onto the fire escape of the building Spidey should have landed on. He hefted himself up easily and then twisted deftly over the railing, before he was bounding up the stairs of the building three at a time to reach the 16-floor building’s rooftop. 

He was amped and relieved to finally see Peter, but he paused on the last flight of stairs, because he abruptly realized he had no idea how to apologize in a way that Peter would know he was sincere. He’d been in such a hurry to find Peter all day, yet he hadn’t even thought of what to do as a kind of apology gesture, although, Wade wasn’t sure Peter would care for a consolation gift or anything. 

“Fuck.” he muttered to himself, squeezing the staircase’s iron railing tightly in his gloved hands before quickly completing the staircase and grabbing onto the short ladder to pull himself up onto the rooftop. 

The rooftop was relatively large, and as he started to walk forward and across, he didn’t immediately see Spider-Man anywhere, and he mentally cursed again, assuming he’d lost the wall crawler. At that rate, he knew he’d end up having to go to Peter’s apartment to see him, which may make things so much worse depending on how pissed off Peter was. 

He was clenching and unclenching his jaw as he walked by one of the water tanks and continued on past two large air-conditioning units, but it was when he came around the side of the rooftop stairway bulkhead that he spotted Spider-Man! He was there! Wade hadn’t missed him! 

The sexy super was in a suit that looked a bit different, and he was several meters away, perched with his back to Wade, right on the building’s ledge in that awesome stalking spider crouch of his. 

He was perfectly balanced. 

He was perfectly everything. 

Just perfect. 

Just everything. 

And Wade’s heart was beating faster. 

Peter was perfect...and Wade was perfectly fucked. 

Chapter Text

...like every ghost that held you down was gone

Peter’s focus was down on his phone in his hand, his back facing where Wade was standing. 

The light from the higher buildings all around made him quite visible, and Wade took a moment to appreciate the lines of his body in that tight suit, and in that crouch that should look uncomfortable, but on Spider-Man, it seemed totally natural. Wade noticed that it wasn’t the iron suit though, but it also wasn’t the light blue and red, or the darker blue and red, suits he’d seen before. The one Peter had on was sort of a reflective and vibrant almost neon material. A much brighter blue contrasted against a richer, similarly brighter, red. And it really stood out. 

Wade stood staring, literally having trouble taking his eyes off of Peter, and he found himself wondering how many suits the younger super actually had, and if they were all different. Which, how fashionable, and hot…very hot, Peter looked hot, and sleek, and dangerous in the -new?- suit. And seeing him there in the flesh after so many days of thinking about him, as Wade’s mind tended to do in moments where words failed him, his brain provided him with a mental soundtrack. 

Wade had spent so much time alone after the blip, and in that time, music had become something he filled lots of silences with so he didn’t start screaming. It had played a major role in maintaining the little sanity he’d been clinging to during that time. 

So, when his mental song inventory provided him with a song that suited what he was thinking and feeling about Peter right then, he went with it, pulling out his burner phone and pulling up Youtube to type in the song he had in mind. Wade turned up the volume on his phone past the recommended level and then he looked over as he hit play, watching Peter as the song, Need You Tonight by INXS, started up.  

Peter didn’t even startle though, he didn’t seem surprised at all when the music started up, simply raising his head and turning it slightly, barely glancing over his shoulder in Wade’s direction. And that was surprisingly hot. So hot. It had Wade thinking that Peter had known he was there all along. 

‘Come over here.’ was the first lyric, and Wade watched as Peter turned to face away again, not moving. 

So, Wade started to walk over then, in tune with the music, his boots scraping audibly on the concrete, and when the lyrics started up, he started to hum along while he approached. And then, when the pre-chorus kicked in, he started singing in his usual falsetto, 

“♪ So, slide over here and give me a moment. Your moves are so raw, I've got to let you know, ♪” he was snapping his fingers, keeping his eyes on Peter, “♪ I've got to let you know. You're one of my kind. ♪” 

When he was just a few feet away, Peter finally stood up on the narrow ledge, turning to face Wade as he continued to sing, 

“♪ I need you tonight. 'Cause I'm not sleeping. There's something about you, boy, that makes me sweat! ♪” he audibly changed the gender pronoun and the glowing lenses of Peter’s mask’s eyes narrowed slightly, so Wade decided to start dancing a bit, inching his way closer as he continued to sing, 

“♪ How do you feel? I'm lonely! ♪” he sang louder, looking up at Peter, who was quite a bit taller than him right then, “♪ What do you think? Can't think at all! What you gonna do? Gonna live my life! ♪” 

Peter just stared down at him as he went on, close enough now to touch the lithe younger super, 

“♪ So, slide over here and give me a moment. Your moves are so raw, I've got- ... ♪" 

“Wade.” Peter said flatly then, cutting off Wade’s singing, mostly because his voice was odd, like, not really his own, and it made Wade frown, 

“What’s up with your voice, Baby Boy?” he asked over the song still playing on his phone. 

“Voice modulator.” 

“Ooooh, new tech? New suit?” he wiggled the fingers not holding the phone, wanting to touch Peter’s toned abdomen, which was eye level for him right then, but of course, not daring to. 

“Old tech. New suit.” Peter’s fake voice was quite stiff and detached. Wade didn’t like it. 

“I thought I’d never seen it before, would have definitely remembered how it looked on your banging body.” a shift in Peter’s lenses, a soft ‘zzt’ sound and tilt of his head, “It’s fucking fantastic.” Wade openly let his eyes trail over Peter’s body from head to toe, really appreciating every lean line and dip and visible curve of muscle through the tight suit. He also liked how the spider on the chest of the suit was more spidery shaped. It looked badass. 

There was a beat of silence, and then Peter said, 

“It’s still in beta-phase. I only made it this past week.” another pause, and Wade felt a distinct tension seep into the air around them, “I was kind of down and needed something to keep me distracted.” he added, and Wade already knew that sentence was a set-up, because Peter’s stiff demeanor was very obvious. Yeah, yep, he was real pissed, not fake pissed. 

 Still, Wade didn’t take the bait, because he was an asshole and bad at not being an asshole, and instead of apologizing emphatically, he asked innocently, 

“Shitty crime week in the big apple?” 

Peter did not respond, he just stood there, staring down at him, and Wade knew he’d fucked up even before Peter shook his head and said, 

“Whatever.” before turning around and raising his hand, ready to sling a web and leave . 

“Wait!” Wade reached out, but still didn’t touch. Permission was important after all, and on top of that, Peter was pissed off at him, and on top of that, he was hyperaware of the fact people would not generally want him touching them. And on top of all that, as someone who’d also grown to not like to be touched randomly, he understood those boundaries very well. So, yeah, he wasn’t just going to touch Peter, regardless of whether he’d previously been allowed to. He didn’t feel like he’d earned that privilege on a freer basis.  

Probably never would after the past week’s fuck up. 

Peter did stop though, which was really unexpected and surprising. Wade watched him lower his hand, but he didn’t turn around, and silence fell around them as the song conveniently ended. Wade didn’t want the silence to drag on though, so he took in a breath and then leaned his head back and mumbled, 

“Fuck it.” before he looked at Peter’s back again -very pointedly not looking at his perfect ass that was just so perfect and right there in his face-, fuck, no, he needed to focus and use his words, “Okay, so it’s just gonna’ sound like some bullshit excuse, but I seriously have no idea where the fuck my phone is.” he admitted plainly. 

Peter turned around then, and somehow his mask clearly expressed that he did indeed think Wade was talking shit as he gestured pointedly at the phone in Wade’s hand. Wade immediately lifted it up higher, closer to Peter’s face so he could see it, 

“It’s a burner, I have a shit ton of burners. Standard stuff in my line of work.” he admitted, and then actually held the phone out to Peter to take if he wanted to, but he didn’t even look at it, let alone reach to take it. He did say, 

“It’s been six days.” 

“Five.” Wade held up his other hand, five fingers splayed, “Five days.” it was important to stress that, “I was out of the country all this time on a job, which I wrapped up very quickly, way ahead of the original plan, when I realized I didn’t know where my phone was and I only got back into New York this morning. I’ve been looking for you all day, Baby Boy, so today doesn’t count.” he explained in a rush. 

“It counts.” Peter said stiffly, no room in his tone for argument and Wade just nodded, 

“Okay, okay, you’re right, it counts.” he easily gave in, always was the pleaser-type when it came to someone he liked romantically. It was one of his weaker traits. He was a total yes man in almost any and every way he could manage once he fell for someone. 

Pathetic really, but he’d always been that way. 

“You literally know where I live, Wade, and I was home most of the day today.” Peter pointed out. 

Wade groaned loudly and tossed the burner phone aside, because he was impulsive and negligent about shit like that. And he noted Peter’s mask eyes narrow again as he watched the phone flip flop in the air and hit the ground with a cracking slap on the concrete, but that time his mask’s expression seemed more confused than angry. Wade reached out then, but obvious enough Peter would notice he was about to touch him, and then he took one of Peter’s gloved hands between his own lightly, recapturing the younger super’s attention. He kind of love-hated it, but Peter had reawakened the desire in him for physical contact, and having been a tactile guy a long, long time ago, it was stressful to now be wanting to touch someone again…a lot. 

But he was encouraged by Peter not pulling his hand away, so he tried to explain more, 

“I know, I know that. But I didn’t know if it was okay, I mean, I technically broke into your apartment and I had no idea how you felt about that-…”  

“I was fine with you being in my apartment, Wade.” what a nice way of putting it, “I even texted you to say thanks for the pizza and you read my message.” 

Wade shook his head, 

“I didn’t, I don’t remember that, I…” he stopped, trailed off, mouth hanging open under his mask as he frowned, because he...yeah, he remembered now. Stupid fucking memory was triggered so randomly by Peter mentioning thanking him for the pizza.  

He’d seen the message in the cab on his way home from his job on the night of his date with Peter. But when he’d taken his phone out of his pouch again at home, the screen had been black when he’d tried to access it. He’d tried to switch it on a few times and it hadn’t work, so he’d tossed it somewhere in his living room. He’d figured it may have been damaged at some point during the job. It had worked when Weasel called him though, but technology was fucking annoying and unpredictable and he’d… 

…he’d just forgotten about it completely. Because usually a damaged phone just meant using a random burner until he decided to buy a new personal phone. Wade hadn’t had a number or phone that he’d felt was important enough to hang on to in ages, 

“Wade?” Peter asked, fake voice sounding questioning. 

Wade frowned, staring at the bright, reflective-like material covering Peter’s hand between his own plain black leather gloves, thinking. He knew he could try to explain all of it, but he knew it would just make him sound even more unreliable and irresponsible than he was. Or maybe, it’d make him sound exactly as unreliable and irresponsible as he was. Fuck. 

He sighed, and slowly, he let Peter’s hand go, taking a step back, 

“Forget it. Bottom line is, I fucked up.” he admitted, voice tense and somber as he took another step back, “You have every right to be pissed. Fi-uh, six days is a long time to leave you hanging, I’m wasting your time. I’ll let you get back to it.” he gave a weak, sad salute, took another step back and then turned around. 

“Seriously?” the anger in the fake voice made him stop walking, “You don’t contact me for a week because you lost your phone,” angry fake voice shifting into real angry voice, “and then you weren’t sure if you should come to my apartment when you got back to New York,” muffled only slightly by the mask material, “then when you find me after searching all day , you barely explain what happened. And now you’re going to bail on me again?” he sounded angry, but also confused, hurt and a little incredulous. 

Wade didn’t snap at Peter per se, but he did speak a little too tensely, 

“I told you, I fucking warned you, this is what I’m like.” he said, pointedly not looking at Peter, instead off to the side of the building, “I’m unreliable, I’m a fucking spaz, I’m an asshole and even on my best fucking day, I don’t know if I can be what you expect me to be, or how you expect me to be-” 

“I have no expectations, Wade.” Peter said, his voice surprisingly firm and authoritative when he was mad. “Or if I do, I’m managing them because I get that you have some issues, I have some issues too-” 

“I don’t have some issues,” Wade turned to look at him now, “I am an issue, I’m the issue.” 

“Oh, really?” sarcastic tone, narrow eyed mask expression and a head tilt, “Because to me, when you say stuff like that it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself you’re the issue.” Wade just stared at him, white mask eyes wide, and Peter sighed shortly, “and I also think it sounds like you’re trying to brush me off.” 

Not true, not true! Or maybe…subconsciously, a little true? Wade knew Peter could do better. He both wanted Peter and was terrified of actually being with Peter. Because it wasn’t just self-deprecating trash talk when he said he was fucked up. It was true. Peter though, he seemed to be so willing to take on Wade’s mess. It was equally terrifying. 

Peter sighed again after a few long seconds of silence, of Wade not saying anything, just standing there and staring at him, feeling confused as hell. And then Peter shook his head, 

“Honestly, I actually think…I think you,” he sounded a bit emotional now, voice tense and back to that softer, uncertain tone Wade had heard quite a few times, “I think you don’t really like me, Wade.” and that tone and those words nailed Wade right in the feels, punched the breath out of him.  

“What the fuh-…” 

“I think you like me, like,” Peter gestured to his body, “physically. And I think you really mean it when you say you want to sleep with me.” his voice was legit upset now, “But if you just want sex then,” he was shaking his head, “it’s not, I…I don’t, I can’t-…” 

“FUCK!” Wade exclaimed, his hand brushing over his right gun holster before he brought his hand up and made a fist, not knowing what to do with it. His mind was screaming at him to shoot himself so he could stop hearing anything else Peter was going to say. But that was only a temporary solution to run from his own problems, and it wouldn’t be any good for Peter. He’d already done enough shit to upset Peter! 

He had another option though…he could just be fucking honest, just tell him and let him hear how fucked up it all really was, for himself. 

Wade glanced over to find Peter was still there, for some reason not just leaving, not running away from him. Peter was still there, still giving him a chance, still being so patient, so Wade nodded to himself, absently setting his hands on the grips of his firearms as he just said the shitty truth, 

“I’ve been alone for a long time, like, fucking years .” he inhaled audibly and let it out again, “I don’t know how to not be alone and it’s really fucking hard to want to be alone and want to be with you at the same time.” he emphatically whispered that last part out, “I’m not used to it, not used to having to contact someone about where I am or what I’m doing. My personal phone gets fucked up, I get a new one when I get around to it. That’s how it’s been, that’s what I’m used to.” he was speaking loudly enough to be heard, but still trying to keep his voice fairly calm. Only directing his irritable tone at himself, his masked eyes focused on the ground as he tried not to clench his teeth, “So, what happened? Okay, I went on a job that night, after we went out, right after I left your apartment.” he made himself raise his head and meet Peter’s masked eyes with his own, “The phone got fucked up while I was on a job, killing people. Shit gets violent, things get damaged.” he said frankly, a little cold, “I got home later and forgot about the phone being damaged, because I took another job out of the country, to kill some more people, and didn’t realize I’d forgotten about the phone until I was already out of the country.” 

Peter hadn’t moved, even his glowing mask eyes hadn’t shifted. 

Wades stony demeanor cracked a bit then, his stomach getting a bit tense, chest a bit tight.  

He fucking hated talking about feelings . 

“But I was supposed to be out of the country for almost two weeks on that job, except,” he breathed out and dropped his hands to his sides, “except on the first day there, when I finally realized I didn’t have my cell phone, it was because I was thinking about you, about texting you, about talking to you. And it’s way too fucking dangerous to involve personal matters in my work.” he said seriously, the pain of Vanessa’s loss creeping into his tone, “So, I chose not to contact you from there. I chose to rush the job, get it done faster, which was super fucking messy, just so I could come back and see you and then I…” 

Wade trailed off then, because Peter finally moved, hopping down from the ledge onto the ground and coming toward him. Not moving away, but toward him. What the actual fucking fuck? Was Spider-Man about to beat the shit out of him? It wasn’t like Wade hadn’t had some disturbing fantasies about that during his darker times, but that wasn’t really what he’d been going for right then. 

Peter didn’t seem mad though, his walk was slow and his shoulders looked less tense and…oh, okay, yeah, ok, Peter was hugging him. Up on his toes, arms up around Wade’s neck, bodies touching but just short of pressed completely together and Wade had that view again, down the curve of Peter’s back to that perfect ass. 

What the fuck was happening? 

“What’s happening?” he whispered, masked eyes wide, hands hovering above Peter’s back, not sure he should trust the situation, abstaining from touch. He was so confused. 

“I’m hugging you.” Peter said sounding amused, “Is that okay?” he sounded like he was really asking, and Wade had his arms around Peter within a second, causing Peter to lift off the ground when he stood up straight, pulling the younger super up like he weighed nothing, so that Peter’s feet weren’t touching the ground, 

“It’s better than the okayest okay to ever be okay, Baby Boy, I just don’t understand why the fuck you’re hugging me after that messed up shit I just told you.” he was still kind of whispering, his arms holding Peter up and tight around his torso, his face half buried in Peter’s smaller, strong shoulder. 

Peter huffed a laugh, his arms around Wade squeezing a little tighter,  

“I’m a simple guy, Wade. I just want you to be honest with me. I..uh, I…” he cleared his throat, “so, okay, this hug is great, but uh, it’s also really embarrassing, could you maybe put me down.”  

Wade immediately did, but slow and close, because he really didn’t want to lose the physical contact so soon, or maybe not anytime in the next few hours. Or days. 

Fuck, his feelings were a lot and all over the place. 

Peter didn’t pull away either, his hands sliding down to settle more or less on Wade’s shoulders, Wade’s own hands lightly settled on his flanks. 

“As I was saying, I’m a simple guy, I just want you to be honest with me.” he repeated, mask eyes making a quiet ‘zzt’ sound to match whatever his eyes were doing, “I already know you’re a merc, remember?” he shrugged, his hands distracting Wade -who was already kind of distracted by that new shiny suit clinging to Peter’s body that was pressed right up against him now- further, when he slid them lower down over Wade’s suited chest to settle on his sternum. “As long as you’re dealing with the really, really bad people, I’m not gonna’ have a big problem with it.” 

Uh oh, Wade didn’t like how that sounded. Something told him his idea of really bad and Peter’s idea of really bad were not the same . He didn’t say anything though, just listened. When he spoke words it never usually did him any favours. And while Peter seemed to be an exception to that, he didn’t want to push his luck. 

“So, thank you for being honest.” he added and all Wade could do was nod and raspily utter a ‘ yeah ’. But then the moment of silence that followed became tense again, and when Peter shifted to step back, Wade let him go, even though he wanted to hold on. It was only one step between them, but with the renewed tension in Peter’s stance, it made Wade’s anxiety flare up a little as he assumed something more needed to be said, 

“But?” Wade prompted, voice low and strained. 

Peter looked up at him with softly glowing mask lenses, 

“But, uh…I would like to know if this is about sex for you?” he said softly and Wade’s eyes widened, because that had not been what he was expecting to hear. His mask’s expression must have confused Peter because his voice went up a pitch when he said, “I mean, I like the idea of s-sex, with you, in the future. Like, I like the idea a lot, you know?” 

‘Sweet baby Jesus.’ Wade thought, desperately turned on and confused by those terrible and wonderful words coming from Spider-Man.

“But, not just sex, I’m not…not, that’s not my kind of thing, like, casual sex or whatever.” he started to fidget and gesture with his hands between them, “I’m not judging you though, because I know you said you never needed, I mean, that you pretty much just, I guess, hooked up? With people before, and I get that, but-” Wade tuned Peter out for a moment as he tried to remember saying that out aloud. He must have though, because why else would Peter know that. He tilted his head, shook it, tuned back in, “-an be friends anyway, if you’d want that-…” 

“Shshshshshsh.” Wade immediately had to step in when he heard that, and when Peter fell quiet, he chuckled, but it was without much humor, “Uh, okay, we’re doing the honesty thing, right?” 

Peter nodded, 

“Yeah, please.” 

Okay, honesty. 

“There was a time, a really looooong time ago, when sex was a fun pass time for me. But…” Wade took in a tense breath and breathed out, “these days, I pretty much just talk a big game.” 

Peter tilted his head, one mask eye narrowing slightly, 

“I find that hard to believe, Wade. What changed?” 

Wow. Big question. With a game changing answer. 

“Okay, honesty.” he repeated, voice even more strained. 

Peter nodded, repeated, 

“Honesty.” voice quietly curious. 

Wade swallowed, 

“So, I know you’ve noticed I don’t show any part of me under this suit.” there was a moment of stillness, before Peter nodded hesitantly, like he was admitting something that’d been a secret. “Yeah, so, basically, it’s all talk, the flirting and sex stuff. Because under this suit…Baby Boy, I’m…I’m…” why was it so hard to just say he looked like a shriveled-up testicle! There was a time when insulting himself had come so easily.  

“You’re what, Wade?” 

“Uh…” Wade’s voice actually broke, “I, I-…” 

“Okay,” Peter shifted on his feet and shrugged, “I don’t want to force you-” 

“No, no, you’re not. I need…” Wade took another breath and turned to pace away a bit, Peter stepping slowly to the side to follow him, “ you need to know.” he said as firmly as he could, partially to Peter, mostly to himself. 

Peter shifted on his feet again, then stood still, 

“Okay, I mean, I’d like to know more about you.” he admitted, sounding so cute and sincere Wade wanted to shrivel up more than his appearance already was, “And knowing what you look like is a big part of that, obviously.” yeah, that just made him feel way worse. Speaking of worst, 

“You need to…expect the worst.” Wade forced himself to say, and then added, “And then times the worst you can imagine by, like, one hundred.” 

Peter didn’t say anything, didn’t move, and his mask didn’t give away what he was thinking, and then he said, 

“Okaaay.” and he asked, “So, is it the age thing? Cause I already figured you’re probably a fair amount older than me.” 

His age? Shit, Wade had already avoided that question before, no point doing it again, 

“Yes, I am, uh, a lot older than you.” not a fair amount. A lot. 

“A lot?” a slightly nervous pitch to his tone. 

“A lot.” Wade confirmed.  

“So, is it the age thing?” and wow, Peter totally avoided getting clarification on the age thing and it made Wade feel more anxious because that was not a good sign. It was better, in the end, if Peter knew what and who he was trying so hard to get close to. 

“No.” Wade shook his head, “I mean, no, as in, I don’t consider our age difference to be an issue.” A ‘zzt’ sound, Peter was probably frowning. That gave Wade a hint that age was possibly an issue for Peter. So, he decided to at least clear that up, “I say that, because I…don’t age.” 

“You don’t age?” he sounded quite confused. 

“Or, if I do, it’s really, really, reeeeally, slowly.” Wade honestly had no idea, that question could be better answered in about 40 or 50 years. But in the last decade, he’d never felt even a hint of aging and as hideous as he was, he hadn’t gotten any older on top of it. 

“O-okay. So, why don’t you age?” 

“Very advanced healing factor.” Wade didn’t miss a beat. 

Peter nodded idly, then reached up to touch the side of his head, 

“Oh yeah, I think, I, I think you mentioned that before.” had he? Yeah, maybe. Probably. “So, when you mutated, you stopped, or you think you stopped, aging?” Peter asked. 

Wade nodded, 

“Yep.” he popped the ‘p’. 

“S-so, at what age did you mutate?” he asked with some slight hesitation. 

Wade gave it a moment, standing stock still and then he answered in a breath, 

“Thirty-nine.” 

Peter was standing still too, aside from fidgeting his hands a little, 

“Thir-thirty-nine.” 

“Hm hm.” 

“And, how, how long ago did you, uh, mutate?” 

“Plus-minus…eeeeleven years ago.” Wade watched him, tried to read what he was thinking from five feet away and through a mask. 

Silence fell for a few very long seconds, then Peter said, voice a little high, 

“S-so, you’re…uh…” 

“I’m fifty.” Wade just said it, “Technically.” he added. 

“Technically.” Peter repeated. 

“Hm hm.” 

“But, biologically, you’re thirty-nine”  

“Yeah, 39 til’ I die...” ‘ or don’t die ’. He didn’t say the last part out aloud. 

Another lapse of silence. Then, 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“O-okay.” Wade was stunned. 

“Yeah, I mean, you look really, uh,” Peter cleared his throat and vaguely gestured to Wade, “like, you know, you have a really nice, uh, form. Young, like young, uh, you’re uh-” 

“You think I’m hot, Baby Boy?” Wade couldn’t keep the smirk out of his voice, or the expression of amusement off of his mask as he raised his arms up at his sides as if displaying himself.  

Peter glanced off to the side briefly, readjusting his stance as he shifted his weight, and he was probably blushing so prettily beneath that mask as he admitted, 

“I do. I think you’re hot.” 

Wade didn’t miss a beat,  

“And I am . Mutated at peak fitness, a fully matured man.” at least physically, “And aside from my hot bod, I’m well-endowed and good in bed,” because it was true , and there was very little he had to brag about in his life aside from his body and ability to kill people, but also because he needed to point out the good before dealing the blow of the bad contrast. On that note, and with the mirth gone from his voice, he dropped his arms and added very seriously, “But I only look sexy as fuck, as long as I keep the suit on.” 

Peter was watching him, having clearly been listening, but reading someone fully through a partially expressive mask was difficult. He had no idea what Peter was thinking. A few seconds passed and then finally Peter asked, 

“So, what do you look like, is it a mutation thing? I know mutation sometimes changes a person’s physical form. I’m not clueless about it. Like, I how Doctor Banner turns into Hulk. Wanda’s eyes change colour. And you can’t really see it without looking super closely,” he held up his covered hands, “but I have scopulae, uh, small special hairs all over my hands and feet, like a spider, so I can stick to surfaces.” 

“Heh, that’s cute.” Wade commented, voice still strained, but he found he actually kind of wanted to see that. 

Peter huffed, flapped his arms as he walked closer to close the gap between them, 

“Is it more obvious than that?” 

“Superadically, waaaay more obvious.” Wade rasped out. 

“Is your skin a different colour?” 

“Geeeeting warmer.” 

Peter tilted his head again, he was obviously thinking about what to guess next, 

“Okay, so it’s your skin…your skin is different.” 

‘Diseased.’ Wade thought miserably but said, “Yes.” 

“Is it-” Peter started to ask, but then he stopped and turned his head to the side, looking off into the distance, body tensed again. Wade guessed it immediately, 

“Your danger sense thing is going off, huh?” he asked, both relieved and not about the necessary conversation being cut short. 

Peter looked back to him and nodded, 

“Yeah, probably not too major, but I gotta’ go and deal with it.” 

Wade raised a hand and waved once stiffly,  

“No worries, Webs.” the new, more professional nickname rolled off his tongue easy as anything, “Duty calls. You understand I’m a merc and I understand you’re a superhero.” he said truthfully. 

Peter had been backstepping, but he stopped when Wade said that, huffing out a small laugh and Wade imagined he was smiling under his mask, 

“That means a lot to me, Wade, that you see it that way.” he started walking backwards again, distractedly. And honesty was still the theme of the night, so, 

“ You mean a lot to me, Baby Boy, more than I wanted to admit to myself at first. Kinda’ getting big time attached to you.” he forced himself to say it, to be honest. His feelings and behaviour were changing a lot, and fast, and when it all ended horribly for him, it was going to hurt like a bitch.  

“Dammit.” Peter breathed out, stopped, bounced on his feet uncertainly. 

“Dammit? Damn what??” Wade asked, glancing around. 

“This sucks, it’s gonna’ happen all the time.” he sounded frustrated. 

“Oh, yeah, but it is what it is, Baby Boy, you are who you are. No sweat.” Wade remembered he didn’t have Peter’s number anymore, or a working personal phone, so he said, “If it’s okay with you, we can meet up here, maybe tomorrow again, same time or earlier?” 

That was progress, he was making moves toward Peter, even though he foresaw it ending badly for him. 

Peter nodded, took another step,  

“Yeah, okay, yeah…” then he stopped again, “…or.” 

Wade raised an eyebrow, 

“Or? 

“Or you could maybe come with me?” 

“Huuuh?” 

“I mean, I know you usually get paid and stuff to go after criminals, but this won’t be killing anyone,” he was backing up again toward the ledge, “so, maybe you could just tag along, maybe me help me out if you feel like it?” Wade was walking slowly after him now, listening, “We don’t have normal lives, right, so spending time together is going to be hard enough. This way,” he hopped up onto the ledge effortlessly, “we could still be spending time together.” he bobbed his shoulders, “It could be fun.” 

“Could be.” Wade said as he stopped a foot away from the ledge. 

“Okay, so, can you keep up?” Peter sounded almost teasing. 

“Not exactly keep up,” Wade admitted, “but I can do my best, how far?” 

“It’s not too far,” he paused as if trying to ascertain something, “less than a mile. I’ll leave a trail of webs for you to follow?” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Wade agreed. 

“Awesome.” he raised a hand, shot out a web and leapt. 

“Don’t have all the fun without me!” Wade shouted after him, stepping quickly forward to look over the ledge, watching as Peter swung low and then on the upward arc, the light caught his suit beautifully. 

He was a fucking work of art! 

“Better hurry up then!” Peter shouted, and then he cast a differently formed web that stuck visibly to the very building he swung around the corner of, out of sight. 

Wade discovered he was smiling after Peter disappeared.  

He felt odd in his stomach and in his head, but not bad odd. Peter had really been stirring and digging up a lot of feelings in him, old and new. He didn’t even know if he’d enjoy knocking around and tying up every day baddies for the cops to come and get, but he was willing to do it because Peter was right, it was a solid way for them to actually spend more time together. Or it was at least worth a shot. 

He started to back up from the ledge, glancing around to see what distance he was working with between the buildings nearby, lower and higher, fire escapes and building ledges. He took all he could in, which followed the direction Peter had gone, and then he brought his hands up and clapped them together, 

“Maximum effort.” he briefly rubbed them together before he sprinted toward the building ledge and leapt. And Wade was pretty acrobatic and agile and flexible and all those fancy things, but if there was one specific reason he was good at really dangerous levels of parkour, it was because he could run, jump and maneuver around on broken and half healed bones. 

As he swung toward the scene of what was probably a not-too-serious crime in progress, Peter’s head was kind of out of it. He’d found out more about Wade in the twenty minutes they’d just been talking on top of that building, than he had since the second time they’d met again after the blip. And it was a lot. 

Biologically thirty-nine, but technically, if someone was actually keeping count, Wade was fifty. 

Peter wasn’t sure how he felt about it, if Wade couldn’t age physically, or aged very slowly, then he was giving real meaning to when people say age isn’t anything but a number. And that was fine, right? Sure, 26 years -or 31 years if he wanted to keep it technical- was a very, very substantial age difference, and May would not be very happy about it at all… 

…but Peter could always pitch the lesser age difference of twenty-four from thirty-nine and then she’d probably -hopefully- not freak out too much. 

Peter was coming up on the scene presently, his other senses now picking up on noise and movement, aiding his danger sense in narrowing down exactly where the trouble was. As he swung along, he shot off other web balls, where they’d be visibly stuck to the buildings in order for Wade to follow him. The idea for Wade to go with him had been a spur of the moment thing, not wanting to cut their time together short, but then he’d asked if Wade could keep up because he kind of wanted to see what Wade was capable of powers-wise. 

Many times in the past week, Peter had been tempted to ask E.D.I.T.H to bring up whatever Stark and Shield intelligence had on Deadpool, but each time he’d stopped himself because it hadn’t felt right to look into Wade like a subject or topic of impersonal study. He’d wanted to learn about Wade from Wade himself. So, despite feeling hurt and down because Wade hadn’t contacted him, Peter had decided to take on a project he’d been considering for a while now, but hadn’t really bothered with until his last conversation with May, about how things with S.I and the Avengers could be turned on its head at any time. 

He’d decided he needed to be more self-sustaining when it came to his personal life and to being Spider-Man. So, he’d started with Spider-Man; with his suit specifically. He’d decided to make a new suit, one that wasn’t reliant only on Stark Tech. He’d accumulated a lot of new skills and knowledge from working with Tony, and from his experience using and wearing his million-dollar suits, all three of them. But he’d also accumulated a fair amount of his own useful knowledge and tech over the years. Some tech which he’d made himself from his own ideas, as well as based on some of Tony’s work, and he also had some gadgets given to him as gifts from Tony in the past for suit maintenance and communication, etcetera. 

It all came in handy when Peter sat down to make his suit...by hand. Yeah, he’d sewn it.  

After acquiring material he was happy with, it had taken Peter three days to get the material parts for the new suit together, perfectly sized, measured and cut for sewing, and then the next one and a half to make sure the computerized parts and basic level AI were functional in the wiring he’d added into the suit. Lastly, just that morning he’d added in his web shooters. He’d kept the one’s Tony modified because Tony had said he’d based it off of Peter’s original designs, but he’d dropped almost all of the extra features and had also made the shooter itself as invisible as possible. Over all, the appearance was altered quite a bit and, along with the tech capabilities, the entire suit was more simplified, more stripped down. Which meant, going forward, he’d have to rely more on himself, on his own abilities and powers.

And it felt good, it felt empowering. And according to Wade, it looked good too. 

Just then Peter swung around the corner into a quieter, mostly private business area of the city, and he saw glass all over the sidewalk and street outside one of the stores. There were four armed guys standing outside, and Peter wondered how many more were inside, holding up the staff and any shoppers. The getaway truck was also very obviously parked in the street, cab doors and the back roller door wide open. It was a CVS pharmacy they were knocking over, a big one, one that also sold other items besides pharmaceuticals. Peter supposed he should give the thieves an A for effort in the practical category, stealing from a store like that gave them lots of options aside from just prescription drugs. 

He’d quietly swung overhead and landed, and he was presently sitting on the wall of the CVS store, above the bright red and white lights and also above where the four guys were standing outside. He was taking stock of the situation. The street seemed quiet enough since it was close to a residential area, so some parked cars in the street, but no one seemed to be walking around at the moment. Anyone who’d been around the area must have scattered as soon as the robbery started, because the guys were armed with friggen’ machine guns. 

Great. Peter hated machine guns. He could kind of ‘dodge’ bullets, mostly because his senses warned him when someone was going to shoot at him before they actually did. He wasn’t exactly faster than bullets though, so when it came to machine gun fire, it was harder to dodge…but not impossible of course, it just took more effort. He’d done it before and he’d do it again if he needed to. 

Of course, the downside was, his new suit wasn’t quite as durable as his million-dollar Stark tech suits, so he was hyper aware that he needed to be more careful than usual.  

Taking a breath and thinking ‘here we go’ , he activated his voice modulator and said, 

“Hey fellas, whatcha’ doin?” the four guys all looked up at him, guns immediately raised, but he knew the bright lights cast him somewhat in shadow, obscuring his visibility. There was a laugh in his voice when he said, “Woah, that’s one heck of a welcome. Who knew I was so popular.” hands raised mockingly while he stuck to the wall with his feet, sitting on his haunches. One guy said fucking superheroes, at the same time as another said shoot him ! 

Peter was moving before their guns went off, flipping up the wall to avoid the bullets and then, crouching perpendicular to the surface, he shot out two webs,  

“I’ll take those.” he said lightly, catching two guns and snatching them away. Some people inside the store had screamed in surprise from the gun fire, but the two gunless guys were cursing louder than the screams. The other two kept right on shooting, and Peter sprung and leapt away, staying high to keep the gun fire from potentially hitting any civilians on the ground.  

Shooting out another two webs, he flipped high and twisted in midair, snatching another gun with one web, and swinging on the other. He arced down once he had the third gun and, not too roughly, he kicked one guy into another so they fell into a small cursing pile. He’d landed on the ground and he webbed them down, then without missing a beat he ducked easily when one guy came at him with a forcefully swinging right hook, 

“Easy, buddy. You swing any harder you’ll throw your shoulder out.” he quipped, patting the guy’s shoulder before he could even regain his balance and then he shot out a web to trap him down as well. Then quickly, with another web and just as he leapt up, he snatched the fourth guy’s gun before he could shoot again, landing back on the CVS wall. All four machine guns were now webbed up, out of reach on the building wall, so he casually shot another web out to trap the last of the four guys. 

Those four dealt with, he crawled along the wall a short ways and then jumped down, landing on the street beside their get away vehicle, which was parked almost in the middle of the road and, he noticed, was already partially loaded. Peter glanced over the assorted things they’d stolen, 

“Man, you guys are fast, I only took, like, two minutes to get here.” he glanced over at them and then walked around to the front of the truck, where he leaned over and with no effort, pulled the front left tire right off the axel, dropping it aside as the heavy truck noisily settled with a crunch into a lopsided position. The four guys were all staring at him now, looking from him to the vehicle, each in different states of annoyance, frustration and disbelief. Peter looked from them to the truck and back again, “Oh, sorry about that,” he said plainly amused and unapologetic, “but you can’t park here, it’ll have to be towed.”  

They glared at him. 

Then, 

“What the fuck is going on!” a guy came out from inside the store, probably the leader, because he had the biggest and most high-tech gun held in his two hands. It was really big and really high-tech looking. Peter was almost impressed, except, the guy had taken so long to come out, he lost points for slow reaction time. 

“It’s Spider-Man!” one of the webbed down guys complained loudly. Way to state the obvious. 

Main guy turned to Peter just as another two guys came running out as well. They had machine guns too, like the rest of their lackey comrades had had. Heh. Must have been a sale or something. Arms dealers were really making the small-time criminal gun market work for them. 

Peter stood by the vehicle and waved at the main guy, glad to have his attention since the people and staff who’d been held up were now rushing out of the store to flee. So, seven guys in total if no one was left inside to hold anyone up. Main guy sneered at him, all angry and intimidating or whatever, before he gestured to the two other guys behind him, who raised and aimed their guns at him. Peter was just about to move, but before they could fire, and even before his danger sense could raise higher than a steady hum, Wade’s voice carried down into the street, 

“If I see any one of you fuckstains aiming any kind of weapon at Spidey again, I’m going to turn you all into the first real life human fucking centipede.” his voice loud and pleasantly threatening. 

They all looked up, Peter as well, just when Wade did a neat and powerful flip off the CVS building and landed with a heavy metal crunching dent on top of the truck. Peter heard someone say ‘ fuck, that’s Deadpool ’ and ‘ holy shit what’s he doing here?’ while he was still staring up at Wade, or rather, up at Deadpool, who looked different somehow right then, more serious. Deadpool unsheathed his left sword then, expertly handling it in his grip with a quick spin, and next, Peter watched as he casually unclipped his right-side gun holster. And he was about to pipe up and object to that, but Wade didn’t take it out, he just pointed at the gun there as he said, 

“Hupupup,” waving the sword in the direction of the crooks, “don’t run, I will fucking shoot you.” Peter turned his head to look at the three unwebbed guys, true enough one of them looked like he’d been about to run, “And making me waste my hollow points will piss me off sooooohoho much fucking more.” Wade added. 

Peter frowned at hearing ‘hollow points’, and he glanced from the crooks to Wade, and then back to the crooks again. He couldn’t help noting how they were all staring at Deadpool very differently than they’d been staring at him. All of them looked pale and worried, and they’d all lowered their weapons, none of them looking like they’d try to run after the latest threat and some...some of the webbed-up ones were shaking. Peter had to wonder then, just what kind of reputation Deadpool had amongst criminals. 

One of them randomly dropped his machine gun and put his hands up without any instruction to do so and Peter’s mouth dropped open under his mask, head tilting in disbelief. Wade made a sound of approval, and then with a twirl of his sword and flick of his wrist, it was sheathed again, 

“See now, he’s a smart one, he probably knows what I do to people who piss me off. Don’t you?” Wade waved his gun at the guy who had his hands up, and Peter narrowed his mask eyes because he hadn’t even noticed Wade take his gun out. His spider danger sense wasn’t even humming, so maybe Wade really had no intention of actually shooting anyone? And that was good! Peter relaxed a bit, he’d initially tensed up when Wade had first unsheathed a friggen’ sword. 

The man was dumbly nodding, and Wade asked, 

“Criminal friends or merc friends?” tone almost conversational, while gesturing for the others to put their weapons down and hands up, too. They did. And all Peter could do was stare as he stood there. 

“M-merc friends.” the man answered. 

Before Wade could respond though, the leader seemed to decide he wasn’t going to give up so easily and he pointed his large high-tech weapon at Wade and yelled, 

“Fuck you, Deadpool!’” as he...embarrassingly failed to fire the weapon. 

There was a moment of silence, then Wade burst out laughing, even bending over forward to lean a hand on his knee while holding up the gun and his free fingers as he laughed, and laughed. 

The main guy tried to fire the gun again while Wade laughed, but it still wouldn’t go off, he wasn’t even close to getting it to work, since Peter’s spider sense wasn’t registering it. 

“Seehh.” Wade said, wheezing out another laugh before finally standing up again and getting it somewhat under control, “Size doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to use it!” he cracked up again. Peter smirked under his mask too. He wanted to add a comment, but then Wade abruptly jumped down from the top of the truck to the hood with another loud thud of denting metal.  

All of them flinched, except Peter.  

Wade was pointing his gun at the main guy, using it to gesture for the man to stop trying to use the high-tech gun, but Peter’s sense was a steady hum, so he just observed for the moment.  

Wade asked,  

“Did I kill some of your buddies’?” to the guy he’d previously been talking to, his tone still laced with amusement from a moment before. The guy took a second to answer, like he had to remember what Wade was asking about, 

“Y-yes.” he managed, tone very nervous. 

“Yeeeeah,” Wade dropped down to the ground finally, “mercs are assholes, they get on peoples nerves all the time. Gets em’ shot in the face an awful lot.” he approached the frozen three men and shaking webbed men. He proceeded to casually kick aside the two guns they’d put down, in between gesturing for them to get down on their knees. 

Peter shot out webs to attach to the guns, pulling them in toward himself so they were lying beside his feet as Wade went on, 

“Trust me I know, I am one, that is, I’m a merc and an asshole.” he laughed lightly. Then he focused on the main guy and reached to take the large complicated gun from him, which he relinquished while looking pissed off but defeated. “Ooh, nice, is this a custom design?” he looked closely at something on the barrel, “This is definitely not local.” he held the gun in his free hand and continued to look it over, while the main guy slowly sunk to his knees because Wade had aimed his gun right at the man’s face, using it to gesture for the man to get down without even looking at him. 

Peter’s sense was still steady and low, because Wade was not posing anyone any danger. In the end, Peter was mostly surprised that he was all but forgotten, just standing there. It was obvious though, that Deadpool had a reputation. He was dangerous and feared it seemed, probably dangerous to people far worse than a bunch of small-time heist opportunists like the ones on their knees cowering right then. Peter was witnessing the human survival instinct first hand, these criminals knew Wade was a stone-cold killer.  

As for him? Everyone knew Spider-Man didn’t kill people, even when they tried to kill him…but Deadpool? Deadpool would kill criminals. That seemed to be the general consensus amongst the terrified group of crooks for sure. Maybe Peter and Wade needed to have a conversation about levels of criminality... 

Wade was still holding on to the high-tech gun, and he said, 

“I’m keeping this.” and that snapped Peter out of his runaway thoughts, 

“Uh, nope, no,” he took a step forward, “no, you’re not, you can’t keep it, I’m taking it.” and he meant it. He didn’t know where Wade got guns from, but on his patrol, all weapons involved would be webbed up and taken into police custody, along with the criminals. 

Wade turned to look at him, 

“You collect guns, Webs?” he asked sounding confused and impressed of all things. Peter shook his head, mask eyes narrowing to a confused squint, 

“What, no, I don’t- no, the gun has to go into police custody, Wa-uh, Deadpool.” he just remembered to keep things professional. 

He wasn’t sure what Wade’s reaction would be, but he was pleasantly surprised when Wade looked at him and then at the weapon, before shrugging, 

“Okay, Spidey. Your gig, your call.” he complied and then he tossed that gun as well, but this time in Peter’s direction, so Peter could catch easily. “Not sure you want it ending up in police hands though, it’s real advanced tech, dangerous stuff.” Wade was saying, looking at all the crooks on the ground, “Corrupt cops will make a pretty penny for it, if they know who to sell it to.” he finished, speaking almost offhandedly. 

Peter frowned slightly and looked over the gun in his hands and, yeah, Wade was right, it looked very customized and complicated, definitely a dangerous weapon. He was just trying to see if he recognized what any of the switches and dials did, when he heard one of the criminals whisper, 

“Deadpool, man, I can pay you, just let us go.” probably thinking Peter couldn’t hear him. 

Wade however, burst out laughing again, saying, 

“That’s hilarious!” and Peter looked over then because his spider sense ticked up a notch, and he watched as Wade leaned into the guy’s face to say, “You couldn’t even afford me, fucknugget.” and in a blink, he headbutted the main guy so hard Peter heard a pretty loud bone crunch noise. He leapt over immediately, landing just about in front of Wade, who had his gun trained on the guy before he even properly hit the ground, “And no amount of money could make me turn on Spider-Man anyway.” Wade was saying threateningly, while Peter put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back. 

“Put the gun down, Deadpool, I’m pretty sure the fracture you just gave him got through.” he commented, tone a little scolding. 

Wade looked at him, jaw clenched in anger over what the guy had said, but hesitantly, he did lower his gun, and then Peter pushed the high-tech gun against Wade’s chest sideways, forcing the merc to hold it and focus on something else. Wade really went from zero to one hundred way too fast, his temper needed some work. Peter then turned and leaned down to check that the guy was okay, or mostly okay. The man groaned softly when Peter checked his bleeding face, and then he stood up again and started shooting out webs, tugging the remaining three up together with the rest, as he usually did. 

“I wasn’t gonna’ kill him.” Wade sounded vaguely petulant, but mostly like he was trying to sneak around the obvious wording of that sentence as he reholstered his own gun. Had he forgotten Peter’s spider sense alerted him to certain levels of danger? 

“But you were gonna’ shoot him.” Peter stated plainly, tone very unimpressed. Just then, all the guys were securely webbed together, and the group was now watching their interaction with wide eyed and confused expressions.  

Peter turned to cross his arms over his chest as he leveled Wade with a narrow mask-eyed stare. 

Wade looked back at him with a fake innocent expression on his mask. 

“Getting shot builds character.” Wade said, “Right guys?” he glanced at them, and not one of them agreed. The older super turned back to him as if he hadn’t even asked them, but apparently, he’d somehow figured the gun out, because he seemed to be disarming it, some of the various armed lights going off as he flipped over some switches. He continued to talk though, “Also, a bullet a day keeps the criminals away, Doctor Deadpool knows best.” he added lightly, just as a large mag with a glowing inner core, unclipped into his waiting hand.  

Peter placed his hands on his hips, still very unimpressed, but he was kind of distracted by the weapon Wade was rather expertly figuring out. So, he just said, 

“No shooting any one on my patrol, period.” and then when Wade finally looked at him again, he focused a bit more and added, “Let’s actually go ahead and make it no violence of any kind, not mild or gratuitous.” he decided, not missing the way Wade’s eyes skimmed over the length of his body as he stood with his hands on his hips, 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, it sounds very inefficient, but you got it, no violence.” he said distractedly, and Peter would be lying if he claimed he didn’t enjoy being able to distract Wade, if he claimed he didn’t feel flattered by how much Wade liked him. As long as it wasn’t just about sex, and from what Wade had said earlier it didn’t seem like it was, he could get used to it. He was getting used to it. 

“You sayin’ I’m inefficient?” he asked, joking, his forced NY accent sounding weird in his modulated voice. Wade gasped, placing a splayed hand on his own chest, 

“I would never.” he denied in a whisper, mask eyes narrowing. 

Peter just smiled behind his mask.  

He’d been legitimately concerned Wade was only interested in sex, especially because of May’s harmless jokes about making his body work for him, and knowing how Wade always had something to say about his body, and then Wade had just disappeared for so many days. Peter had been feeling really insecure. It was like when he’d used to wonder if MJ only liked him for being Spider-Man during the first several months of their relationship. It was often difficult for Peter to shake his insecurities, so he wasn’t usually too hard on himself about it, but worrying about Wade just wanting to sleep with him had been bugging him majorly.  

But after their discussion earlier, albeit having been interrupted, he felt a lot better...he hoped the new honesty thing would mean more good things for them. 

Wade had completely disarmed the gun finally, there were no more glowing, ominous lights visible, 

“This is some expensive hardware.” he commented, weighing the large gun in his hand, “If this is stolen, which it probably is, that dumb motherfucker,” he pointed at the leader of the group, who was still dizzy from the headbutt, “will probably be safer in jail. Arms dealers hauling shit like this are on another level.”  

“Someone you know?” Peter asked curiously, faking innocence, wondering how mad Wade would be if his arms dealer got arrested because Peter tipped off the police. 

“Some thing I know,” Wade said in an overly cryptic way, tapping Peter’s masked nose with his index finger, “that you don’t need to know, friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.” 

Peter frowned, a bit annoyed by that comment, but he just rolled his eyes under the mask and figured it made sense there would be people of a criminal nature Wade would not tell him about due to the whole superhero thing. 

They really were at opposing ends of the spectrum, and yet Peter didn’t want to lose Wade to a moral compass that had failed him a few times before. Trusting Wade, keeping Wade a secret, had been a decision that went against his standard moral compass, but was the only trust investment that had worked out positively for him so far, in terms of meeting other new supers. 

Police sirens could be heard then, by Peter, not by Wade or the crooks, and so he took one last glance around the scene and at the bound crooks, before he looked at Wade, 

“Police incoming.” he said bluntly to keep it professional, “I prefer to stick around overhead to make sure they pick up,” and then he lowered his voice, quietly enough so as not to be heard by the webbed-up group a few feet away, “One block over, there’s an iHop on East 14th-” 

“Rooftop?” Wade caught on fast, also lowering his voice and looking off to the side idly. 

“Rooftop.” Peter confirmed with a quick nod. 

“Gotcha.” Wade nodded too and then he turned and took off at a medium paced run. 

Peter bit his lip under his mask, feeling anxious all over again, watching Wade leaving his sight and not knowing if he’d be there on that rooftop. 

There was a brief stretch of silence then, as slowly the sound of the sirens became audible to everyone. 

“So what? Is Deadpool a superhero now?” one of the guy’s tied up decided to start talking the moment they felt sure Wade was not coming back. 

“Pfft, Deadpool, a good guy? Nah, he’s in it for something.” another answered. 

Peter turned around to find exactly none of them looked afraid anymore and it made him want to stomp his foot in frustration. He was intimidating, damnit! 

“Definitely.” another spoke, looking at Peter, “If I were you, I’d watch my back, Spider freak. Deadpool ain’t no hero, and he ain’t no nice guy.” he sounded annoyed, his New York accent light but noticeable. 

There was a chorus of agreement and a groan from the injured one. 

Peter wanted to say something, but he knew that anything he said in defense of Deadpool may just be taken the wrong way and end up passed along, through some twisted gossip mill, where it’d end up on the internet, or worse, in the Daily Bugle. Jameson, that jerk, really had it in for Spider-Man, ever since he’d started a total tabloid story about the possibility that Mysterio had been the hero and Spider-Man had been the villain in London. 

Ugh. Just remembering seeing that story all over the papers back then still made Peter nauseous. 

He stared at the group in silence for a moment longer, and then when the sirens were close enough, as in, around the corner, he mock saluted the group and said, 

“Try to stay out of trouble in jail, fellas.” in his usual friendly voice right before he ran a few steps and jumped onto the building opposite CVS, going up and up and out of sight. But he stayed nearby, and he waited until the police arrived on the scene. 

It took about ten minutes for the police to have the guys rounded up, still all webbed up since his new web solution was tougher, meant to be resistant to normal blades so the police hadn’t been able to cut through it. And it would still only dissolve after the usual two hours. Once the crooks were all being driven away, piled awkwardly into the back of a large police van, he relaxed. Seeing them gone was all Peter needed to wait for, once he knew the crooks were en-route to the nearest precinct, he was moving again, running into a jump off the building and slinging a web. 

East 14th was literally down a block and around a corner, and in no time, Peter was landing in a crouch on the bulkhead of the iHop building with a flick and flip, his feet touching down almost completely silently, as stealthy as ever. He immediately heard singing after he landed and he was smiling to himself automatically, not missing a beat in crawling to the edge of the bulkhead and looking over to the rooftop. Wade was standing with his back to the structure, tapping his foot as he sang, holding the high-tech gun in one hand and…an iHop bag in the other. 

Peter was all out grinning now, feeling warm in his chest and light in his stomach, watching as Wade continued to sing to himself. It sounded like that same song from earlier, something about ‘I’ve got to let you know’ or whatever. Peter hadn’t been paying attention at the time, he’d been upset, but now he listened to Wade sing, 

“♪ -moves are so raw, I've got to let you know. I've got to let you know. You're one of my kind. ♪” Peter moved very quietly so he was sitting on the edge of the tall bulkhead, the height at about seven feet taller than Wade because it was housing a water tank for the building. 

Wade was still sing-humming the song playing in his head, and he was still changing the gender pronoun, meaning Wade was thinking about him right then. It made Peter feel so good, so wanted, and it was new , all so new since Wade had come in to his life again, but he liked it. He was constantly blushing and he didn’t even mind. In fact, right then, with things feeling more settled than they had in days, he felt playful, teasing…and a little turned on.  

Wade was right about what he’d said earlier, he did look sexy as eff in his suit. Definitely peak fitness, and of course, Wade hadn’t seen him blush at the time, but when the older super had talked about being well endowed, Peter had blushed, recalling feeling the size of Wade through his suit when they’d been pressed together before. So, yeah, that wasn’t an exaggeration. As for being good in bed? Well, Peter wasn’t going to pretend he didn't want to eventually find out. For right then, though... 

He glanced around and noted that all the buildings in the immediate vicinity were either level or lower than the iHop, and the rooftop was fairly dark, which meant there was quite a bit of privacy. Wade still hadn’t noticed him, too absorbed in his singing, facing the direction of the drug store robbery, and oh yeah, Peter had come around the other way. Heh, nice. 

Very easily and with a quick maneuver of this hands and fingers between his thighs on the edge of the bulkhead, Peter had flipped upside down on a web, and like a spider might, he lowered himself down quiet and smooth, until his head, upside down, was about level with Wade’s standing height. And after deactivating his voice modulator, he said, 

“Looking for me?” 

Wade shrieked and swore at the same time as he jumped and turned around. And curiously , despite only holding a disarmed gun and an iHop food bag, Peter’s spider sense zinged just a little. But just like the last time, the second he realized it was Peter, whatever danger he presented, even without a weapon ready, vanished completely. 

“Fuck meeeeh…” Wade started to say and then he got distracted and trailed off, mouth seemingly hanging open under the mask. He seemed to be staring at the way Peter was hanging upside down on the wall.

And then he was mumbling something about iconic upside-down kiss, and Peter had no idea what he was talking about, but kissing upside down sounded uncomfortable. 

Kissing though…like, normal kissing , that sounded like a fantastic idea! 

“You got iHop?” he asked, but he was thinking about earlier, when they’d been talking about Wade’s skin, which was apparently what he had the biggest issue with. Thing was, Peter needed to know exactly what that issue was if they were ever going to get around to kissing. Wade snapped out of his stupor at his question, going ahead and dropping the gun to the floor as carelessly as he’d tossed his burner phone earlier, in order to proffer the bag to Peter, held out in the four feet of space between them, 

“Yep, for you Baby Boy. I got you two monster cheeseburgers, a double BLT sandwich, Italian cheese straws, strawberry banana French toast and a Coke.” 

Wow. May would love this; Wade always trying to feed him. Peter wasn’t hungry though…or, okay, he was, because super high metabolism and all, but he wasn’t hungrier for food than he was eager to make out. He was nineteen slash twenty-four! He had a healthy desire to get some action, especially now that he had a…a boyfriend? 

“Thanks.” he said sincerely. 

“I don’t think you should eat upside down, though, gravity would make that suck.” Wade was now starting to open the food bag, “Trust me, I know. I’ve tried.” 

Peter was tempted to ask why Wade had tried, but he didn’t want to get sidetracked by all of Wade’s strange comments and odd reveals, so he shot a web out, since Wade was still standing out of reach, and caught the bag, pulling it back to himself before webbing it safely to the wall, 

“I’m not really hungry right now, Wade.” he said casually. 

“No? You sure, did you eat today? When I lifted you earlier you were soooo light.” 

“Waaade.” Peter groaned, stretching his legs to one side to weigh himself sideways, using his core muscles to easily swing upright on the web, where he stuck his feet to the wall and crouched that way, letting the web go so it was dangling as he pushed it aside, out of his way.  

Wade was still nagging, 

“What? It’s true, you probably don’t even weigh 145 soaking wet-” 

“Wade.” he repeated, tone a little flatter. 

“And I know it won’t affect that banging hot body, Baby Boy, because I know how super powers and high metabolisms work, and calor-” 

“I want to make out.” Peter said just loud enough to cut him off and Wade stopped mid word, mask eyes wide, body frozen. Peter cleared his throat, awkwardness replacing confidence and playfulness so easily when he realized how juvenile he sounded, “I mean, I’d really like us to…I want us to kiss already, okay.” he just blurted it out, leaning back against the wall and avoiding eye contact, even though it was barely that with their masks on. 

The silence almost dragged on for too long, but Wade saved it just in time, 

“My skin, Pete.” he said very quietly. Peter sighed, 

“I know, but…so what then?” he looked at Wade again, the older super’s mask able to express his sadness, his concern, “Are we never going to kiss, Wade? We have to start somewhere, and a first kiss is like…the basics.” he gestured randomly, awkwardly folding his arms over his chest afterward. 

He watched as Wade lowered his head, watched the rise and fall of the merc’s chest, watched as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Peter watched and waited. They needed to make some kind of progress. Wade needed to trust Peter, like Peter trusted him… 

“Okay.” Wade said then, and Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, the mask mimicking it. 

“Yeah?” 

“Y-yeah, but…” Wade sounded very uncertain, his voice tight and a little strained again. 

“But?” 

Wade raised his head and looked at him, masked brow in the shape of a frown, 

“Eyes closed?” he asked, uncertainty in his voice even as he asked with a hopeful tilt of his head. 

Peter let that sink in and then he asked, 

“You want me to keep my eyes closed?” 

Wade nodded, 

“And I’ll just roll my mask up, half of my face only.” Wade took a step back , “And no touching.” he added on a tense breath. 

Peter sighed, 

“No touching? You mean aside from the obvious?” because to kiss, their faces had to touch, but Wade seemed so intensely uncomfortable right then, Peter just wanted to make sure he understood what Wade was asking. 

“Right, I mean, of course, kissing means touching,” he made a weird hand gesture, “but no other touching.” 

“If I can’t touch you, you can’t touch me.” Peter said petulantly, knowing Wade wanted to touch him. He was kind of risking cutting off his nose to spite his face with that challenge, because he wanted touching, but luckily it seemed to work. Wade made a frustrated sound, 

“Fuck, okay, no touching the exposed area of my face.” he nodded to himself and then looked at Peter, to see if he was going to play ball. 

Peter stared at him, wanting to go against it because it seemed so ridiculous. He just wanted to tell Wade it was okay about whatever with his skin, but…but he knew trying to force the issue was wrong. Wade’s comfort was as important as his own, and Wade had been physically considerate about touch and contact from the start. Peter had to be the same for him. So... 

“Okay.” he agreed, stomach bursting with more butterflies as he realized it meant they were finally going to kiss. Man, it’d been on his mind for like, ever. And he was nervous as hell all of a sudden but also super excited. Wade looked quite tense though...and he hadn’t reacted yet, hadn’t even moved an inch closer. Peter considered getting down and going over to him, but he actually wanted to stay on the wall, because it eliminated their height difference, which made him feel a smidge more confident. 

So, he decided to make the first move right where he was…by closing his eyes. 

His mask’s lenses closed as well, all the way, and Peter intended to keep his word. 

His other senses took over immediately though, and he heard Wade’s breathing more loudly now, heard him shift, heard him walk closer slowly, heard the shift of material, of leather and spandex, and then... 

...he was able to hear more material sounds, which led to the sound of Wade’s breathing no longer being muffled by his mask. 

Peter swallowed thickly, nervous and feeling hot all of sudden, wanting so much to open his eyes and see even just half of Wade’s face, but he would not break Wade’s trust! 

More shifting brought Wade closer, close enough that with one more step Peter estimated Wade could step between his partially spread legs. Shit, he felt so oddly turned on under all the nervousness, and when Wade asked, 

“You gonna’ nanotech your mask up, Baby Boy?” voice all low and close, a little gruff, underlined with heat and that natural sexual sensuality Wade exuded in moments like right then. And with his voice no longer coming from behind a mask, it was somehow more pronounced, more intimate. Peter felt heat pool in his lower abdomen and he pressed his hands to the wall, sticky-sticky, nervously anticipating, pursing his lips as he took in a slightly shaken breath, before letting it out to say, 

“N-no nanotech, it’s a material suit…you can find the s-seam.” he tilted his head back slightly, not sure if he was giving Wade the control of lifting his mask for Wade’s sake or his own. 

His hands felt shaky though, so maybe the latter. 

Wade stepped in much closer then, making physical contact, Peter having to spread his legs wider to accommodate the width of Wade’s torso between his knees. He sucked in a breath and held it, but exhaled it shakily again when he felt Wade’s fingers lightly touch the base of his neck, feeling and softly pinching the material to find the seam. 

“You sure, Pete?” he asked just when Peter felt his fingers curl into the seam. 

“Y-yeah.” Peter breathed out just as quietly as Wade was talking. Wade’s hands were still now, 

“You don’t sound sure.” 

Peter managed a small breathy laugh, 

“Never kissed a guy before, Wade.” he said honestly, “But it’s good nervous. I swear. I’ve, uh, I’ve been thinking about this for a while.” 

Wade sighed then, and without his mask, his breath was felt more noticeably through Peter’s own, 

“It shouldn’t be me. The first guy you kiss.” he almost whispered. 

“Never wanted to kiss any other guy, Wade.” Peter admitted to him, “Just you.” 

“Damn, Pete.” Wade’s voice was strained again, but still sensual enough, and his fingers were moving again, “Talk about knowing just what to say.” he muttered, and it sounded like he was smiling a bit.  

Peter wished he could see it.  

Wade folded the mask up until it was just over Peter’s nose. They both knew better than to take it completely off while on top of such low buildings. 

“If you want me to back off at any point, just say so, or throw me off, Baby Boy. Right off the building even, anything works for me as long as you’re not uncomfortable, or grossed out.” Wade was saying and Peter could feel his breath ghost lightly over his skin. For the first time Peter could smell Wade’s breath and his…skin? Peter could smell some kind of spicy food, probably whatever Wade had eaten last, and there was also the natural smell of skin sweat, after wearing a mask all day.  

It all seemed important to note, since he wasn't able to see the older man, but more importantly right then, Wade needed to stop talking like that, 

“Quit it, Wade, I’m not going to shove you off.” he breathed out a huff of shy, but frustrated, laughter, then inhaled shortly when Wade stepped even closer, now standing between his spread thighs properly, Wade’s body pressing his legs just a little wider to accommodate his larger size, 

“We don’t know that yet.” Wade was so much closer, and even with his eyes closed, Peter could still tell Wade’s mouth was only a few inches from his own, and now he could also smell Wade’s cologne, or whatever scented product he wore, and a faint coppery smell. 

Did Wade always smell a little like blood? Was it a part of his scent…was it his skin?  

He noted all of it, despite feeling more and more lightheaded by the older super’s proximity. 

Peter grinned slightly then, just enough to flash his teeth, and while he felt shy and really nervous, he also felt coy, his playfulness returning since he was still feeling turned on and Wade was so close. 

“Try me.” he teased, breaths coming a teensy bit faster as he cataloged the feeling of Wade’s body, which was so much larger than his, right there between his legs, pressing almost right up against him. The man’s torso was wide and built and even with his legs spread as he crouched on the wall, Wade’s flanks were still pressed against his inner thighs firmly. Peter would have to unstick his feet to spread his legs any wider... 

Yeah, it was new, all so new, and really hot and Peter wet his lips with a swipe of his tongue, clenching his eyes shut in an effort not to go against his word to Wade. 

He waited then, anticipating it, lips a little damp and a little parted, but he didn’t know when it was going to happen because he couldn’t see anything and Wade didn’t seem to be breathing. It was only Wade’s next tense exhale ghosting right over his lips that gave him any warning, before Wade’s lips touched his own. 

Chapter Text

...cause' it's all I've ever known...

It wasn’t that Peter flinched per se…but it was close enough, because the moment their lips touched, it was noticeable that Wade’s lips had an odd texture.  

Unfortunately, his partial flinch was enough to make Wade immediately pull back, and something told him that if he didn’t stop Wade from pulling away from him right then, they’d be taking a huge step backwards. So, he unstuck his hands from the wall and grabbed Wade by his shoulders before he could move more than a few inches away, saying, 

“Hey, don’t-”  

“Peter.” Wade’s voice was strained and so quiet, but he was still close, still between Peter’s legs, the older super’s breath still ghosting over his lips. Peter reaffirmed his grip, held Wade’s shoulders firmly and absently wet his lips, which had only briefly made contact with Wade’s, 

“Seriously, cut me some slack, Wade. I’m literally going into this blind.” he said quietly and as lightly as he could, smiling again, wanting Wade to see he was fine.  

And he was. He was also just surprised and confused and curious. He’d only ever kissed MJ -sad as that might sound- but he didn’t think a woman or man’s lips would feel much different to be honest. He’d figured, of course, that there might be facial hair when he’d considered how kissing Wade might feel, but he hadn’t felt any hair prickles. In fact, Wade’s lips had felt, well, not rough in a hard or necessarily unpleasant way, but certainly not smooth or soft like he’d expected. Like they were chapped, and also, the overall surface had felt uneven, but quite warm.  

For all that, though, he didn’t want to stop , and that was what made him use his grip on Wade’s shoulders to gently tug him forward, 

“Come on, stop stalling.” he was still smiling, still being a little coy in his voice, still encouraging Wade, his tummy all full of butterflies and anxiousness and impatience. “Wade, I-hm…”  

Wade kissed him again quite suddenly, and more firmly that time, the odd texture of his lips more fully felt, but Peter made sure to immediately press forward into the kiss, not wanting to worry Wade again. The kiss wasn’t much though; still brief, just their lips held together with a firm pressure before Wade drew back again, asking, 

“You still good?” in a low whisper, his breath fanning over Peter’s slightly parted lips.  

And yeah, Peter was fine, he was good. So, he nodded, flexing his fingers lightly on Wade’s shoulders, quietly wondering if that was it. He wanted more than just a plain, sweet kiss on the lips if he was being honest. It was even more chaste than his first kiss with MJ, which was ridiculous because he and Wade weren’t shy teenagers. 

“You can, uh, I mean, you can kiss me properly, you don’t have to be so, like, careful.” he said quietly, not really sure how to word it. Wade chuckled then, a gravely sound that made Peter’s stomach flip over pleasantly. 

“Just wanted you to get an idea of what the terrain is like.” he sounded different, less insecure and more heated. Was that all it took to make Wade sound so hot and turned on? A little reassurance that he wasn’t going to get rejected? Peter could work with that. 

“Okay, yeah, I got it.” he reassured the older super with a small smirk, and he couldn’t see, but he assumed Wade was maybe smirking too.  

Then Wade was kissing him again…and it was completely different.  

Wade’s mouth against his was firmer, more confident that time, and then immediately Wade was parting his lips and Peter did likewise, taking in a quick breath before their lips slid open and then pressed closed together to seal their first proper kiss. But Wade didn’t stop there, parting his lips again, and with Peter eager to do the same, Wade’s tongue slipped into his mouth smooth and hot and fantastic .  

Peter definitely couldn’t complain after that, just responding enthusiastically and falling into the rhythm and pace of Wade’s mouth opening and closing against his own. Control of the kiss was blissfully relinquished to Wade almost immediately, and Wade was an active and expressive kisser in a way Peter wasn’t used to, hadn’t experienced before. Aside from the way he used his mouth, all angles and the new and different things he was doing with his tongue, Peter was left lightly gasping as Wade bodily pressed him against the wall, fitting right up against him, the older man’s large hands settling on the outside of either of his thighs and squeezing lightly.  

Wade also seemed more aggressive and his presence and touch and dominance was more intense than Peter could have guessed it would be. He kind of liked it, how Wade felt so in control. Like he didn’t have to do anything other than be present and enjoy the experience. Peter felt like he could let his guard down and trust someone else to be there, with him and for him, in a moment of vulnerability, which was a feeling only Wade had been able to inspire in him recently, after so many years.  

And it felt good, emotionally, sure, but also physically. Wade’s kisses were making him dizzy. 

The older super’s mouth was moving against his with such heated purpose and experience, the quiet of the night around them peppered with the soft smacking sounds of kissing. Peter had his fingers clenching tightly into Wade’s shoulders at the way he tilted or dipped or angled his head as they kissed, Peter just going with the motions, completely lost in it, head spinning, ears hot and lips tingling under Wade’s textured ones. The unusual feeling of Wade’s skin had faded from his notice quite quickly, just becoming an oddly pleasant new sensory experience with every slide and press of their mouths and tongues.   

Peter couldn’t help breathing a bit loudly through his nose, his mouth otherwise occupied, air humid between them and their lips damp, only briefly separating between kisses. It was intense and pleasurable and after a while, a little bruising, making Peter’s breath hitch at each moment when Wade’s tongue smoothly changed from lapping into his mouth to sliding and curling and sucking, which was just wow .   

When Wade eventually drew back from the kiss after an indeterminate amount of time, their lips softly sticking as they separated, Peter let out a long-shaken breath through his nose and mouth, eyes remaining closed, dizziness lingering.   

And yeah, that was an excellent first kiss.   

Peter’s whole body was hot and his skin felt sensitive under his tight suit. He was also hard, his erection pressed against Wade’s stomach where the man was flush against him, between his legs, and Wade’s hands, high up on his outer thighs, felt so hot even through the gloves and spandex.  

“Okay, baby?” Wade asked in a gravelly, breathy tone, dropping the word ‘boy’ and sounding so sexy it made Peter’s head spin again. 

“Hm hm.” was all Peter could manage, actually hearing the sound of clenched spandex release when he flexed his fingers on Wade’s shoulders again, licked his hot, swollen lips. Tasted saltiness, sweated skin.  And tasted copper. Actually, his whole mouth tasted coppery.  

Wade tasted coppery…like…like how a newly healing cut tasted when you licked it. That was weird. The idea of why or how made him feel a bit anxious and he frowned under his mask, swallowing and testing the taste in his mouth.  

“You wanna’ stop?” Wade asked. 

Peter licked his lips again, took a few seconds to realize that, anxiousness aside, he really didn’t want to stop. Wade was an amazing kisser as far as he was concerned, even with little experience to compare him to, and he wanted to keep going. So, he shook his head and breathed out, 

“Nah.”   

He and MJ had made out fairly often in the earlier days of their relationship, before the Spider-Man stress had really started taking its toll on them, but making out with MJ had never been like the way Wade had just kissed him. Kissing Wade was like…some kind of mouth sex. Maybe Peter was just really inexperienced, but when Wade kissed him, it was like he could actually feel how much Wade wanted more .  

And that was really something.   

As if to prove Peter right about wanting more, Wade pressed into him, putting a little pressure on his hard on trapped between them and saying, 

“Permission to expand touch parameters?” as his hands slid further up the outside of Peter’s thighs, only to stop just before reaching the curve of his butt. And it was no secret Wade wanted to touch his butt, but the feeling of Wade’s hands so close and the thought of how his large hands would feel everywhere and anywhere else on his body made his next breath shudder out of him hotly. He couldn’t help that he pressed his pelvis against Wade, his erection throbbing in his suit. 

“Permission granted.” he said without hesitation, wondering if Wade was hard, too. He probably was, based on previous experience, but Peter couldn’t tell in that position. He was just a little too high up on the wall.  

“Fuck yes.” Wade breathed out in response, and then he was kissing Peter again, open mouthed from the start, and both of them inhaled and exhaled noisily into the wide, tongue filled kiss, which somehow Wade managed to escalate further. The kiss was more demanding, and Peter just gave into it, eyes closed and heart racing, body all kinds of hot and turned on. He liked it, how Wade kissed him, handled him, like he just expected Peter would like it, and Peter did.  

He was far stronger than Wade, he knew that after Wade’s answer the last time of only having basic enhanced strength. And yet he didn’t feel like he was right then, clinging to Wade as he was, pressed up against the wall, legs spread and body vulnerable to Wade’s now questing hands.  

And Wade finally got his way then, when his hands slid home and cupped and squeezed the globes of Peter’s backside, a pleased growl leaving his mouth and traveling into Peter’s, the vibration of it making it all the way into Peter’s diaphragm. And Peter made a noise of embarrassed, but pleased, surprise at how good it felt having Wade’s large hands squeezing his butt, the kiss briefly breaking off when he exhaled in a bit of a rush against Wade’s mouth, the older super catching his lower lip between his teeth almost right away.  

Peter still managed to keep his eyes closed, which was easier to do now that he was floating and increasingly pleasure-drunk off of arousal from their kissing.  

Wade was mouthing at his parted lips while Peter tried to catch his breath, the older super’s tongue flicking out to tease his own between small kisses and scrapes of his teeth, followed up by little lip sucks. And his textured skin and lips gently moving over Peter’s skin was unusual but not unpleasant. Not at all. Peter really didn’t mind it. He just kept trying to picture what it looked like.  

The copper taste though, it was coating his mouth and it was kind of unsettling to be tasting blood, but he was more confused and curious about it than anything else. It was like he’d been sucking on a cut.  

Wade was still feeling up his butt, groping lightly and squeezing, sometimes sliding his hands back and forth a little, like rubbing, and making Peter’s breath catch. It kept his head spinning, arousal humming and his hips twitching as he sought friction against Wade’s abdomen for his straining erection. Wade’s mouth had moved lower down too, and he was sucking what was likely going to be a very short-lived hickey against the side of Peter’s neck, just above the neckline of his suit.  

“It won’t stay, won’t even last an hour.” he breathed out, head leaned back against the wall. He and MJ had tested the hickey thing once, so he knew. But he was still very much enjoying the feeling of Wade kissing and sucking at his neck, and he actively encouraged it when his hands slid from the top of Wade’s shoulders, moving until his arms were loosely curled around Wade’s neck, one set of fingers absently closing around the strap of Wade’s sword harness. He was ridiculously comfortable like that, so close to Wade, who was trying again for another hickey.  

It was weird that Wade made him feel so safe and comfortable when they still barely knew each other, when he still hadn’t seen Wade’s face...  

Wade was undeterred by what Peter had said, sucking yet another bruise into his skin with renewed vigor. Peter just tilted his head to the side, smiling, letting out a breathy laugh and biting his lip as his neck heated up further under Wade’s lips, his body reacting to his touch…those hands … 

Peter wondered if he should be ashamed of how he was letting Wade feel him up. The older super’s hands on his butt had shifted now, and the position of his hands…of his fingers, as they presently were, most definitely toed the line of being inappropriate for how they were technically in public.  

But no one could see them, and Peter, as he tended to need to do sometimes, reminded himself he was a damn adult, it was his body and he could let Wade touch him however he wanted to.  

With that in mind, and reminding himself to keep his eyes closed when he nearly opened them, Peter used a hand on the back of Wade’s head to bring Wade up from his neck, turning his own head to catch Wade’s mouth in a kiss, Peter initiating a kiss first that time. And Wade eagerly obliged, kissing him back slow and wet and deeply. Still touching him…hands moving, one sliding up along his back, making him arch away from the wall a little, while Wade’s other hand…the other hand!   

Peter made a sound into Wade’s mouth that was half startled, half moaning, when he felt Wade’s other hand slide very low along the crack of his butt. His suit, and the underwear he wore in his new suit, were very thin, so he’d felt Wade’s fingers skim a place he’d never been touched before.  

The touch was fleeting though, because he’d forgotten to stick to the wall when he’d felt it, and Wade quickly shifted his hand to catch under his thigh, Wade’s other arm curling around his waist to hold him up just as he slipped off the wall, the kiss barely pausing for more than a few seconds before it started again, getting hotter, their breathing louder. Wade held him up like he truly weighed nothing for a moment, before pressing him lightly up against the wall again. But he was still holding most of his weight up because Peter had automatically wrapped his legs around Wade’s waist.   

And Peter knew his inhibitions were slipping again, he could feel them getting away from him the more Wade kissed the sense out of him, Wade’s arm around his back and hand on his thigh encouraging him to rock his hips against Wade’s abdomen.  

Peter could hear his own exhales sounding distinctly more like little moans, could feel tension building between his legs as he rubbed intermittently against Wade, whose arm slipped out from behind his back so his hand could slide up along Peter’s side and down again. The touch lit up Peter’s senses even more, making him curve his back, arch into Wade, tighten his grip on Wade’s harness strap, his other hand holding the back of Wade’s head, his thighs tightening…  

Wade grunted softly into the kiss, the older super’s other hand moving to his thigh as well, Wade gripping each thigh lightly before sliding his hands along them.  

Too tight, Peter realized.   

“Sorumm.” he said into the kiss, slurred and a little unclear, Wade licking the word right out of his mouth just before the merc pulled back, and with his teeth, he nipped Peter’s chin, kissed the spot afterward and chuckled out, 

“Don’t apologize, getting crushed between your thighs would shoot right to the top of my ‘best ways to die’ list.” 

Peter couldn’t help the dizzy half giggle he let out, 

“You say such weird stuff.” he said fondly, absently thinking the tense of that sentence was weird too. 

“Hmm,” was Wade’s response, having moved on to kissing the front of his throat, speaking against his adams apple when he said, “you taste better than cotton candy unicorns.”  

Peter laughed a bit more then, soft and breathy, feeling high and happy and turned on, absently rolling his hips against Wade’s muscled abdomen. His brain to mouth filter failed him though, when he said, 

“You taste like blood.” on an exhale. 

Wade tensed in his arms and Peter reacted by almost opening his eyes when he realized what he’d said, but he clenched them shut tightly and used his hands to quickly hold Wade’s face -his palms unintentionally touching Wade’s bare skin, but his suit preventing him from really feeling anything- and he kissed Wade again, before quietly saying, “Just an…” another kiss, Wade barely responding, “observation.” so he kissed Wade again, and again, until the tension slowly drained from the older super’s body.  

When Wade was finally kissing him properly again Peter felt relieved. And he wanted to make it up to Wade, for saying something that was probably the farthest thing from nice to hear about oneself, so he tried some of the kissing techniques Wade had only recently demonstrated on him, turning them back on Wade as best as he could. He didn’t know if he was getting it right, but Wade seemed to appreciate it, his kisses turning slower and less controlled, like he was encouraging Peter to practice on him. 

Yeah, Peter had always liked kissing, and he knew he could get addicted to kissing Wade. He was enjoying it so much and it was only their first kiss, uh kisses.  

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as they continued kissing, a lot of the sexual heat having toned down, so it was just the enjoyment of kissing with a low aroused buzz. It was really great, Peter was really enjoying it, and it was only when his warning spider sense tingled up his spine that the aroused fog of his mind lifted and he groaned softly, drawing back from the kiss to bump his head back against the wall.  

“My spider power sense thing.” he breathed out and then inhaled again, deep and slow, arousal buzzing low and steady all through him. He splayed his hands over the sides of Wade’s face and moved them down his neck to his shoulders as Wade didn’t say anything and just went right on kissing down over his chin and back to his neck.   

Peter’s lips actually burned a little, felt swollen and sticky, although he doubted it would last long. His back had even warmed to the brick of the wall and there was so much heat between himself and Wade too. He felt a bit sweaty under his suit, despite the breathable material, and he really didn’t want it to end just yet, but, 

“Gotta go, Wade.” he sighed out, dropping his head forward as Wade finally stopped sucking on his neck like a vampire. 

“Super hickies.” he said in a smug whisper, smiling against the side of Peter’s jaw and Peter snorted, absently making note of the feeling of Wade’s smile against his skin. He only realized then that he was trying to create a mental image of Wade until the time came when he could actually see him.  

He swallowed down the small swell of anxiety that that thought gave him, clenching his eyes a little under the mask, 

“I’ll let you know if they’re still there when I get home.” he responded, even though he knew they would be gone. Wade finally drew back completely then and he felt Wade’s hand leave the underside of his thigh with a slow caress. Then there was the sound of material shifting and when Wade said, 

“Even if they don’t, I’ll be happy to make them again and again.” his voice was muffled by his mask.  

Peter opened his eyes slowly, his lenses opening too, but his eyes were a bit spotty and sandy from being closed for a long time, so he blinked a few times and his mask lenses did their usual rapid adjustment to keep up. He still felt quite relaxed and lethargic, even as his vision cleared fairly quickly, so that he was once again looking into Wade’s masked face. But his spider sense tingling on a low-level at the back of his neck made him say, 

“I have to go.” just to remind himself he had a duty to do. 

Wade just nodded and then they comfortably separated, Wade’s hands sliding to hold his waist -unnecessarily but entirely welcome- as Peter pulled his mask back down and then unhooked his legs from around Wade, sticking his feet back to the wall.  

Wade dropped his hands and stepped back then, 

“Don’t forget your food.” he pointed at the iHop bag webbed to the wall. 

Peter turned to look at it, considered its inconvenience and then figured he’d just web it up again wherever he went next. He moved to grab it, shifting to be facing the wall and easily pulling the bag off the wall, still covered in his webs. He held it in one hand, his other hand splayed out and stuck to the wall he was half crouching on. He looked at Wade from the higher angle, 

“I have to go shopping with my aunt May tomorrow, but you can come over to my place on Sunday if you want to?” his aroused buzz was fading quickly because of the tingle at the back of his neck, alerting him to low level trouble somewhere across the city, but Peter didn’t want to leave without making a plan with Wade first.  

Peter had considered asking Wade to come along with him again, but it was too far for Wade to follow. He had guessed by that point that Wade couldn’t fly, so getting around and keeping up with him was not possible, not long distance. He was fast though, however he got around wasn’t slow, but he couldn’t fly or anything like how Peter got around, and Peter didn’t want to ask him to run after him through the city just to keep hanging out. That would be a dick move, even if he suspected Wade would do it.  

“Uh, yeah, I can do tha-, I mean, I want to do that.” Wade seemed surprised, and he still sounded a bit strained, still affected by what they’d been doing, the front of his suit not hiding his obvious erection. 

Peter himself still felt a little giddy, pretty damn happy, it was great. 

“Awesome, see you Sunday, maybe around 11 am.” he suggested, and then turned and walk-jumped to the top of the bulkhead, stopping once he was at the top to look down at Wade again, “We can pick up where we left off?" he was grinning under his mask.  

Wade’s mask expressed his pleased frustration at Peter’s words, so did the sound he made as he adjusted his erection as much as he could at the front of his suit, 

“Fucking-A, Webs. You’re killing me.” 

Peter continued grinning under his mask, his voice amused and light when he said, 

“Get a new phone, Wade!” before shooting out a web and leaping up and away.  

He managed to glance back just enough to see Wade still standing there, watching him, and Peter made a groaning sound of his own as he passed the iHop bag from one hand to his other so he could shoot out a new web, swinging hard around the corner.  

He still felt turned on and distracted, but he could only hope his own hard on would be totally gone by the time he got where he needed to go.  

Wade headed straight back to his apartment after his…make out session with Peter.  

With Spider-Man.   

He’d made out with fucking Spider-Man. He’d touched him…fuuuuck, he’d touched that ass . Two perfect fucking handfuls. And his hands had betrayed him too! He’d slipped up, got a little too bold, trying to touch places he’d quite literally only dreamed of. But Spider-Man, Peter , hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t even hesitated, had kept on kissing and kissing and kissing…fuck. Fuck. 

Wade’s chest was hurting as much as his dick was, too many feelings all that once.  

He went home in a bit of a disoriented and disbelieving haze. 

He wasn’t even sure whether he paid the cab driver or just threatened him.  

He kept replaying it all in his head; the feel of Peter’s body, the heat of being between his thighs, the taste of his soft lips and his tongue, his shaken, turned on breathing, the perfection of his ass, the way he’d curved his back to be closer and the way it’d felt when his hard cock pressed against Wade through their suits. Proof of his arousal. But even with that proof, and even more unbelievable, was having experienced Peter’s sincerity, his acceptance, his seemingly genuine attraction. How was any of it possible? 

Fucking surreal.   

Wade could still taste him every time he swallowed, the younger super’s lips had been a little sweaty at first, and on his tongue, something faded, a savory flavor in his saliva. And the way he’d sounded moaning. Wade wanted to feast on that mouth more than he’d already done. His mind had, at the time, conjured up all number of sexy, sweet and filthy things he could do to and with Peter’s perfect fucking mouth. And with his body, so lean and tight and flexible, and he still couldn’t get those thoughts out of his damn dirty mind.  

Fuck, fuck!  

The elevator doors slid open and Wade stalked out into the apartment building hallway, passing the two other doors on his floor before he reached the third one and slammed his way into his unlocked apartment, shutting the door behind him just as harshly. He ripped his mask off once he was inside, tossing it aside somewhere as he breathed slow and heavy, over and over, in and out, into the darkness of his large apartment.   

He felt, he felt… good . Alive. Aware. Awake. It felt unreal. And right, and wrong, and unnatural and scary.  

Everywhere they’d touched. Every way Peter had allowed him close. Each way Peter seemed to accept and want him. Unreal. The way their mouths felt moving together, leaving behind a pleasant –albeit quickly healing- burn on his lips. So right but so scary. But the fucked up skin of his mouth and around his lips, Peter choosing to kiss him, taste him...taste blood. So, fucking wrong and unnatural.  

Wade unclenched his right fist, vaguely aware of something he’d been carrying falling to the ground as he brought his hands up to hold his head, grimacing slightly when he recalled what Peter had said...that he tasted like blood. Wade had felt nauseous when Peter had said that. He couldn’t recall if Vanessa had ever confessed such a thing to him.  

Peter, he...he hadn’t minded though, had kissed Wade even more after. Said it was just an observation. 

He’d essentially been blind folded, allowing Wade’s filthy, blood stained, undeserving, diseased hands to touch him, tasting blood, and he’d still been so into it, he’d been turned on, genuinely attracted, had still wanted Wade to kiss him… 

Wade had never ever even kissed that much without fucking after.  

But sex, while it’d been on his mind the whole time, had been in a different context. He’d not wanted to strip Peter down and fuck him on top of iHop, because he couldn’t imagine degrading the younger man that way, not outside of his fucked up fantasies at least. Instead, while he’d kissed Peter dizzy, Wade had imagined all the ways in which he could make Peter come, and come again. He'd imagined laying him out somewhere comfortable and private, and working him over slowly with foreplay. His hands, his mouth, using them all over Peter, showing him how good he could feel under Wade’s fucked up hands. He’d imagined watching him writhe, listening to him moan, making him sweat, making him want and demand .  

Wade was hideous to look at, but he knew sex. Given the chance, he would sex Peter up so good. But...would he actually end up having sex with Peter? After what had happened that evening, the idea seemed both totally impossible and entirely possible.  

Wade was breathing more heavily; he was mentally and emotionally reeling.  

He’d spent such a long time not feeling anything about anything. Now he was feeling everything . 

It was like when everyone had just blipped back, he’d felt like he was going crazy, having an episode. 

Surely, he’d disassociated from reality earlier?  

There was no way he’d just spent almost thirty minutes making out with Spider-Man.  

He realized his breathing was escalating even more, getting close to a panic rate as he stood there in the dark. He dropped his hands from his head, tried to calm his breathing, paced a bit, looking around his large but messy apartment, the place he’d chosen because he didn’t like small spaces. It suddenly made him feel uncomfortable and very alone...  

Swallowing convulsively and struggling to reorient himself in what he was unsure of being his reality, he turned to look toward the hallway of his apartment as he unclipped his katana harness. It fell noisily to the floor as he strode down the hallway, to the door of the second bedroom of his apartment.  

Wade didn’t hesitate to enter and shut the door soundly behind him. 

He needed to reset, and a bullet the brain was the only thing that could help him.  

Whatever reality he woke up in, he’d deal with it.  

Peter ended up getting home pretty late from patrol.  

He’d dealt with six more minor incidents in different parts of the city before he’d finally called it a night around 2.30 am. And he returned home in a frustrated state, huffing as he made his way, still in his full suit, to dump his iHop food in the kitchen. On his way back to his room, he stripped down naked and went straight into his bathroom to take a shower, during which he jerked off.  

It hadn’t even taken him long to get off, not after how sexually keyed up he’d been, the very recent memories and ghost sensations of Wade’s touches and kisses having been running through his mind constantly.  

He felt a little less tense and frustrated afterward, and once he’d washed up, finished his shower and dried off, he dressed in a T and sweats and went back to the kitchen, where he grabbed his iHop food, warmed it up, and then ate most of it while relaxing on his sofa, scrolling through his social media on his phone. But the intended distraction wasn’t helping at all. He just kept thinking about Wade, Wade, Wade. Which was not only frustrating because he felt so damn horny every time he thought about how Wade touched, felt, smelled and tasted and kissed, but also because he felt so curious to know more about the older super, and of course , to know how he looked.  

He was still kind of surprised they’d spent so much time kissing, and...and as he sat staring at, but not really seeing anything, on his phone, he started to think more negatively about the fact that he still hadn’t see Wade’s face. Like, about how he’d allowed himself to be touched so much by someone whose face he hadn’t even seen...  

Being young and horny apparently made him do some weird things, things that came with a certain amount of embarrassment and a teensy bit of sham- 

“No, no...stupid, stop it.” he told himself abruptly, locking his phone and tossing it aside on the sofa cushion next to him before ruffling his damp hair with both hands. He would not let himself feel something as stupid as shame. He was an adult. He was attracted to Wade and he was making the choice to be patient about Wade’s issues with his skin. He knew who Wade was, and anyway, he could find out more if he really wanted to, but he was making a choice to wait for Wade, to get to know him normally. And he had serious, like, relationship intentions toward Wade, so he’d do sex stuff with the man if he wanted to, and that was all there was to it.  

He sighed, annoyed with himself, trying not to think of the concern, still lingering in his mind, that maybe, just maybe, Wade wasn’t really taking him seriously, was just looking for sex. But that was also stupid. He wasn’t the best judge of character all the time, but he really didn’t feel like he was getting it wrong about Wade.  

He sighed one more time and shook his head, before leaning forward to pick his soda can up. He drained the Coke, and then put the empty can down and grabbed his laptop instead.  

Peter ended up working on one of his assignments for university, which he mostly managed to focus on, but he’d definitely double check it when he was finally able to properly focus again, considering it wasn’t due anytime too soon.  

It was close to 5 am when he finally went to sleep.  

He woke up to his alarm going off, and with a very prominent erection tenting his sweats.  

It’s not like it never happened, because obviously it did, and in fact, if he wasn’t stressed and tired so often, he supposed it’d happen way more often. But because of his lifestyle, it only happened occasionally and when it did, it wasn’t usually so...hard. His body felt so sensitive too, like it was in sexual overdrive. It was weird to be so aroused, and so much. And it was inconvenient since he had to go out, and he really didn’t want to have to shower again before he left.  

So, he lied in bed for a while, waiting for it to go away, trying to think of the day ahead, or anything else to get it to go down. Specifically, not thinking about Wade. In the end, his wandering thoughts took him to thinking about how he’d failed MJ as a boyfriend, both emotionally and oftentimes sexually, which turned out to be very effective in killing the sex mode his body had gone into.  

He got out of bed finally, and then he spent the next half hour eating iHop leftovers at his small kitchen table and wondering how long it would take for Wade to come around and trust him about his skin. Yes, Wade, he ended up thinking about Wade. But it wasn’t sexual, he was thinking about how Wade was so insecure because of his skin. And, yeah, okay, his skin was strange, it definitely felt strange, and Wade also tasted unusual. It wasn’t normal to taste like blood.  

But, see, the world he was living in, the world he’d grown up in, was so strange and unusual anyway, and Peter was a very progressive, open minded and modern dude, he wasn’t about to get put off because Wade had a mutation side effect!  

After eating, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, did what he could about his hair and then he got dressed and left his apartment to meet May, all with a very distracted mind.   

Wade, Wade, Wade.  

Leaving his apartment building, he wondered why Wade sometimes said weird things that made no sense literally at all, and also, he wondered about himself, about why he hadn’t found it disturbing that those criminals had been so afraid of Wade. Of Deadpool. In the cab, on the way to Queens Center, he wondered how often Wade killed other mercs and criminals who might possibly  not be the worst, and of course, he wondered why he didn’t feel more upset over it. Also, as he saw couples in cars or walking on the sidewalks together, he wondered about what Wade was doing right then, and then he saw an older couple, and he started thinking about Wade’s age, then about Wade’s healing factor and powers and what other abilities he might have.  

Once he got to the shopping center, he sat down on a bench inside the mall and waited for May while scrolling through his phone, not seeing anything new on his Instagram feed even as he kept scrolling. His mind was still distracted as he wondered how many people Wade had actually killed…then, somehow managing to bother him more , was wondering how many people Wade had had sex with.   

But no, nope, he stopped that train of thought with an awkward frown. Because he really needed to not think about Wade and anything to do with kissing or sex, or he’d end up having a problem he couldn’t deal with in public. So, instead, he rerouted his wondering, to whether Wade would show up at his place the next day, like they’d agreed, as well as occupying himself by searching for ‘Deadpool’ on IG.  

There were some accounts that popped up, but before he could browse them, May arrived. Peter put his phone away then, and tried to stay focused on spending time with her. She’d wanted to pick up a present for Happy’s upcoming birthday and Peter had agreed to go with her, even though he was useless at shopping. 

After some looking around, they eventually found something for Happy; a vertical vinyl record player with some modern capabilities, because apparently Happy was a music lover. Something he had in common with Tony, Peter supposed, smiling as he thought about his mentor while flipping through some records, May also doing so. She was picking out a few vinyls for Happy, Peter was just reading the names and looking at the cool vinyl cases, his thoughts wandering to how Wade liked music from the same era they were currently looking through...for Happy, who was in his fifties.  

Wade was...fifty. Yeesh, it was pretty hard to think of him as being that old.  

After May was done, they left the store with Happy’s present. It was an expensive gift, but apparently, she’d been saving up for it. With that task complete, May said she wanted to buy an outfit to wear for the birthday dinner she was taking Happy out to, and Peter just smiled and went along with her, carrying her few purchases as they made their way to a store she liked.  

He loved seeing her happy…with Happy. There’d been a time when he’d thought they were going to break up, because May had said Happy was awkward sometimes and since she was such a confident woman, she’d been struggling to dial herself down for him. She hadn’t given him any context or specifics, and he really hadn’t wanted any. He was just glad things had improved between them, he wasn’t sure what changed or how, but he figured it was better that he didn’t know, ever. He was just glad they were still together. 

 He wanted a long-term relationship too, even one that would be a work in progress, but in a good way.  

He ended up thinking about Wade again, unsurprisingly, as he sat in the clothing store May had chosen, waiting while she looked around. And once he was alone and not required to do anything to help May, he remembered what he’d been doing earlier, and he took his cell phone out again and opened IG.   

The ‘Deadpool’ accounts were all actually fan accounts, which Peter was a little surprised to find. Deadpool wasn’t only known amongst criminals it seemed. Some people posted pictures of Deadpool sightings, but mostly it was fan stuff, old articles, memes, drawings, and even people cosplaying him, poorly. He didn’t have a major following, there were only a handful of accounts, most of which weren’t very active, and not many pictures posted or followers on them either, but Deadpool fans did exist.  

That was it though, kind of a dead end.  

Peter tried another search then, expecting to get even less than ‘Deadpool’ when he searched Wade Wilson. He assumed he’d find nothing at all, or that he’d find some other Wade Wilson’s who would obviously not be his Wa-, uh, would not be Wade. Except, that wasn’t what happened.   

The ‘Deadpool’ related accounts came up, which, okay, Peter knew Wade didn’t hide his identity, but he hadn’t expected his actual name to be that  well known. But Wade was full of surprises. Although, what really surprised him, and sent a shock to his stomach, was that there were posts viewable under tags. It was fewer than 100, but it was there, under Wade’s real name.  

Peter didn’t know what to expect, but he clicked on it…and then he wasn’t surprised, but was still disappointed, to find most of the pictures were, once again, Deadpool sightings. Peter sighed, but he liked Wade enough to scroll all the way through the pictures anyway.   

The first one that caught his attention was after he’d scrolled through about thirty sightings and miscellaneous or unrelated pictures in the feed. He looked closely at it, noted that it had been posted almost a year before. It was a picture of the front of a building, the sign plaque read ‘Sister Margret’s School for Wayward Girls, Deliveries’.

There was no person in the picture, but when Peter tapped it there were plenty of tags on it. Wade Wilson wasn’t one of the names tagged in the picture itself, but it was hash-tagged under the caption of the picture, along with Deadpool. So, the post was definitely related to the right Wade. The caption below the post read ‘I miss this fucking place. The toilets used to be cleaner.’   

It was honestly quite baffling, especially since most of the names tagged were men's names, and also, because it definitely wasn’t a school. He read the username; the picture had been posted by a user called weaselneverwins694 .  

Peter scratched his neck absently, sitting forward on the chair with his elbows on his knees. Frowning, he ruffled his already less than tidy hair as he stared at the picture, but he was thinking of something else. He wasn’t sure why, but the word ‘weasel’ in relation to Wade somehow seemed familiar, like he’d heard it before.   

He couldn’t think of why or how though, so he kept scrolling, and the next picture he came across was far more interesting.  

It was an actual -posed for- picture of Wade in his Deadpool suit, with another person; a kid. Peter couldn’t help smiling at the posed picture, because it was funny. It was clearly taken by a third person. In the picture, Wade was carrying the kid piggy back style and they were looking at something in the sky with fake shock and surprise.

The entire vibe of the picture just seemed so funny and light, similar to the vibe Peter had picked up from Wade years ago when they’d first met on Coney Island.  

Wade’s whole demeanor was much darker now.  

He looked at the picture for a moment longer, then at the year it was uploaded. It was posted after the blip, but the caption said it was a throwback to a year before the blip, followed by ‘You were still my best friend, even when you had no legs.’, which, okay? The guy in the profile picture was quite a few years older than the kid in the picture, but still young enough for Peter to assume he’d blipped. Opening his profile revealed that he was also quite a bit thinner and more fit these days. His username was firefistingyou, and Peter kind of snorted at that, but his profile also had his real name, which read Rusty Collins, and it also revealed he was proudly a mutant.  

The post itself was kind of sweet though, and it had Peter feeling all kinds of things about Wade all over again. Mostly warmth and fondness, but also anxiousness. He sighed, feeling like he was missing Wade all of a sudden, and he also felt worried about him, and nervous about him, and very attracted to him. It was exhausting.  

He skimmed through Rusty Collins posts very quickly, but saw nothing else that looked Deadpool related, so he went back to his tag results and scrolled further down. He was close to the end of the fifty-odd pictures in the feed when he saw something that made his stomach flip over and his body tense up…because there, in the feed, on his screen, was a picture post of man...and a woman.  

Of all the pictures so far, none had been a picture of any man named ‘Wade Wilson’, who actually matched Wade’s general physical appearance, without a mask on.   

Just this one.  

Peter tapped on it, opening it to the original post. Having already noticed that the picture was clearly a photo taken with a cell phone, of an actual polaroid picture, he looked more closely at the man in the picture. And Peter didn’t know how, but he just knew, inside his twisting gut, that the man in the photo was Wade. His Wade. Deadpool-Wade. He tapped the post, but there were no actual tags to any accounts, so he looked at the hashtags;  

#Wade Wilson #VanessaCarlysle #goodtimes   

Two names. Two people. And the man was…well, he was, like, really good looking. The woman too, she was really beautiful, and they were both smiling. They looked really happy to be together, looking up into the camera. The photo was so obviously a couple photo. Her hands, pretty dark painted nails, were on the man’s face, and he had one arm around her. He was probably the one taking the picture at the time.  

Peter was starting to feel nauseous, even as he didn’t hesitate to screenshot the picture.  

Was it Wade? How many Wade Wilson’s even were there? Probably quite a few, and the picture didn’t show height or build or anything that telling, but he had a gut feeling. A man like the one in the picture could definitely have been the type to ‘hook up’ often. If that was how Deadpool-Wade had looked before his mutation, then yeah, it made sense. 

Peter looked at the user who posted it and his stomach flipped over anxiously. He swallowed a bit tensely, reading weaselneverwins694 username again, and then he read the caption; ‘ Back when this asshole looked alive ’. The picture also had some likes, 51 likes, which was about 30 more than the other picture tagged for Deadpool-Wade, posted by the same user.  

And two people had commented. Peter tapped to read them. The first one was by some guy with a private account, his comment read ‘ RIP Vanessa ’, and that comment itself had 12 likes. Peter felt saddened then, and a little guilty for feeling even a smidge of jealousy, realizing the beautiful woman in the picture was dead. He was feeling really anxious as he read the second comment, a question by some account without a picture, and also private, asking ' Who’s the hot guy? ’, but there was no answer from weaselneverwin694 or anyone else.  

Peter hadn’t bothered to before, but he entered weaselneverwins694 ’s actual profile that time. The guy’s profile picture was just a photoshopped image of an actual weasel holding a bottle of alcohol, and there seemed to be no pictures of the user themselves posted. Also, none of the other pictures posted were anything Peter could relate to Deadpool-Wade. There wasn’t even a real name. The latest post was dated as the day before though, a picture tagged as a location called Tirana in Albania. It was quite a nice photo, taken of a mostly empty square in the early evening. The caption moodily read ‘ This was not a fucking vacation’ . 

Weaselneverwins694 didn’t sound like a happy guy at all.  

Weasel.   

Peter frowned again, trying to think of the times he’d run into and been around Wade in total. He played back the times they’d been together, not able to remember Wade having said that name. It took almost two minutes of replaying his, uh, platonic, interactions with Wade, but then it finally hit him and he raised his eyebrow, 

‘Not Wade, it was Dopinder!’ he snapped his fingers as he recalled it clearly now, that first night encountering Wade again since before the blip, Dopinder had said Weasel hadn’t wanted him to contact Wade!  

There was no way that was a coincidence, right? No, it really could not be...which meant, that man in the picture with that woman, was almost definitely Deadpool-Wade Wilson.  

Peter’s brief memory victory glee vanished quite quickly then, and he sighed, frowning again as he closed Instagram and went into his gallery where the screenshot was. He looked at the picture of the man and woman again. 

“It can’t be a coincidence, the same guy tags Wade Wilson and Deadpool, and then has another Wade Wilson post, and Dopinder mentioning a ‘Weasel’.” he was mumbling to himself, and then he took in a deep breath and sighed it out, “So, this is really you.” he continued to mumble quietly and then he wondered, ‘Or..it was you?’   

“You okay?” May’s voice had him snapping his head up and standing quickly, remembering where he was as he nodded too quickly, 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I am, why? Uh,” he locked his phone, pocketed it, looked around the store and then at May again, “Are you okay? Ready to go?”  

She just stood and stared at him for a moment, some clothes on hangers dangling over one arm, and Peter started to feel sweat prickle on his forehead under her gaze. She always knew him so well. She knew he was keeping something from her. Keeping something to himself. 

But she didn’t push, because she was amazing like that, 

“Yeah, I’m done. I found something. I’m going to go pay for it.” she pointed from Peter to the other few shopping bags, “We should get something to eat after this, you probably haven’t eaten,” which was not true, he’d eaten, thanks to Wade, “what do you think, Sbarro or Noodle House?”  

“Noodle House.” he decided easily. 

May snorted, walking over and picking her handbag up off the seat, 

“Oh right, you ate the pizza your boyfriend bought you for most of the week. You must be sick of pizza.” she sounded so amused. Peter couldn’t even deny it, she’d seen all the pizza, so he just shrugged, “You go ahead and order, I’ll meet you there. I’ll have green curry.” she told him, and was already walking away.  

Peter hadn’t asked any questions, he’d just grabbed the shopping bags and headed to the food court, where he ordered their food as instructed. May joined him after about ten minutes, while he was waiting for the food, then after getting their orders a short while later, they found a table in the food court and sat down together.  

As usual, they ate mostly in silence, Peter finishing his Pho Bo before May was done, so he took his cell phone out again, browsing the net distractedly while drinking his soda. He wanted to stare at the picture of that guy, who was probably, definitely Wade, or before-Wade, but he also didn’t want to, because he was still a little in denial about knowing it actually was 100% Deadpool-Wade.  

“Everything okay?” May asked into the silence between them when she was almost done, and Peter looked at her across the small square table, raising his eyebrows, 

“Yeah. I’m good.” he smiled, “I’m paying for lunch.” he informed her. She glanced at the table, at their food, for a moment, and then shrugged. She wasn’t willing to be distracted though, 

“How’s your studies?” 

“I’m on top of it, don’t worry.” he answered, but he already knew what she was doing, what she was working up to ask him. 

“Any new work stuff?” she asked, using work to refer to his superhero activities. 

“Nah, just the usual.” 

“That blue light guy?” 

“Blue energy, actually, but, uh no, he hasn’t shown up again.” 

“Hm, probably laying low to cause bigger trouble when he does.” she shook her head, ate some food. She wasn’t wrong, villains had weird patterns where they were quiet until they were not. “Just be careful.” 

“I will be, I mean, I am.” he reassured her, fiddling with his nanotech ‘watch’ that housed the Iron Spider suit. She didn’t know about his new suit yet actually, which, while it looked awesome, wasn’t nearly as safe as his Stark suits. She’d find out eventually though, and he decided he’d rather wait for that moment, then he’d tell her that he was taking her advice about doing things independently. He hoped she wouldn’t be mad. She’d probably be mad though. Really mad. Yeah. Still, he wasn’t going to say anything about it.  

That was a problem for future-Peter to deal with.  

“How’re things with your guy?” and there it was, what she’d been wanting to bring up. 

Peter had just hit the bottom of his soda and he slurped noisily from the straw for a few extra seconds before nodding a bit too slowly, 

“It’s going…I think it’s going well.” nice and vague. 

“Still just casually dating or actually going out together?” 

Peter didn’t really know how to answer that, but after what happened between them the night before, he figured he and Wade were headed into ‘going out’ territory, 

“It’s hard to say,” he blinked at May, “but I think we’re going out.” man, it was as difficult to have someone to talk to, as not having someone to talk to. 

She grinned, putting her bowl and cutlery aside since she’d finished eating, 

“Ah hah, so, I’m guessing there’s been a first kiss?” 

Peter felt the blush prickle along his neck and he made a face at May, 

“Wha-, why? May, come on.”  

“You have to stop being awkward about this topic, Peter, it’s not attractive.” she sipped her lemonade, giving him a deadpan look. 

“I’m not ,” he was a little, but it was mostly just because she was his aunt asking, “not, like, with him. But you’re my aunt, it’s weird.” 

“No, it’s not, I’m not asking for details, I’m asking for general information.” she was busy in her handbag, looking for something. Peter sighed, figuring she wasn’t wrong, so he answered, 

“Yeah, okay, we’ve kissed,” understatement of the year, “it’s going well. That’s some general information.” 

She applied some lipstick and then put it back in her bag and set it aside, leveling him with a look, 

“So, you’re okay?” 

Peter frowned, eyes shifting around in confusion, 

“Yeah, I…am, why do you keep asking me that?” 

May sighed, 

“I know you said this is the first guy you’ve liked, first guy you’re dating, and he’s older than you,” Peter started to sweat again, thinking about Wade’s real age, but May moved on from that, “it’s different and you’re so young, and I just hope he’s not making you feel pressured or anything, emotionally or sexually.” she finished quite seriously.  

Peter blinked a few times, eyebrows raised, remembering he’d also been afraid of how things would develop sexually when he’d first decided to move forward with seeing Wade, but now it turned out that he was the one who wanted things to move faster. He was the one who was super interested in not only the emotional aspect, but also the physical side, of being with Wade.  

“Y-yeah, I get what you’re saying,” he fought the smile that was trying to stretch across his face, “but it’s not like that, he’s not pressuring me into anything, I swear.”  

May smiled now too, but she was also frowning a bit, 

“You really like him, don’t you?” 

Peter cleared his throat and nodded, looking down at the table and then at May again, the urge to grin fading and the urge to talk starting to rear up, 

“I, uh, I really do. But…” he sighed, and May’s smile faded, 

“But what?” 

“It’s just that the situation, his situation, is…it’s complicated.” 

May hummed, 

“He’s got some baggage, huh?” Peter looked at her, eyes wide, “Makes sense, we all have baggage. The older we are, usually the more we have.” she was being really understanding at least, even if she had no clue what that ‘baggage’ was, she wasn’t wrong in a general sense. But she frowned again then and leaned forward to ask, “Is he divorced?” her eyes widened, “Is he married, Peter?”  

What? 

“Wha-, no. No, no, he’s not married, or, I think, I don’t think he’s ever been married.” he was frowning now too, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure about the latter, but from the things Wade had said, he didn’t think the man had been married before. 

“Kids?” 

Peter was shaking his head again, 

“No, I definitely don’t think he has kids.” God, Peter hoped not.   

Geez, every time he talked to May he was reminded that he really needed to know more about Wade, like, seriously. 

“You don’t think?” scolding voice, “Peter, what do you two talk about?” then she snorted and half rolled her eyes, “Or maybe there hasn’t been much talking.”  

Peter face planted on the table, groaning in embarrassment, 

“Ugh, May, please.” he raised his head again, “Look, it’s not baggage like the kind you’re thinking of, it’s just some personal issues he has, but we’re figuring it out.” 

She stared at him sternly for a few seconds, and then she sighed and nodded, before slowly smiling again. She took a sip of her lemonade and Peter thought it was over, then she asked, 

“So, is he a good kisser?” 

Peter’s next face plant and groan drew the attention of many people in the food court.  

Waking up after a suicide nap with dried blood and brain matter crusted over one side of his face and the shoulder of his suit was never pleasant, but also not new. Not even close to new.  

Wade left his personal little hell late the next day, but only because it’d been one of those rare occasions where he’d stayed asleep after healing instead of waking up half healed and still in immense fucking pain. The latter happened a lot more often.  

He closed the door quietly behind him. Closing in the wreak of old and new blood and brain splatter. 

He’d have to clean up a bit in there soon, or else it’d start stinking too much. For right then though, he just wanted to get clean and changed.   

He walked all the way down the hall into his bedroom, which was dimly lit even in daytime, since his heavy curtains were still closed against the daylight. He left it that way, as usual, as he stripped off his suit. In the ensuite bathroom Wade tossed his suit into the unused bathtub and after removing his underwear he stepped into the shower.  

He spent a while in there, just letting the water run over him, a little too hot for most people’s comfort, but he barely noticed it. He felt tired, because taking a suicide nap wasn’t actually refreshing in any way and even though he’d ‘slept’ after it, it wasn’t like actual, natural healthy sleep.   

Eventually he washed himself, miserably looking at his skin as he lathered soap over himself. Nothing had felt different to him when he’d woken, which either meant that everything that had happened with Peter the night before had been real…or none of it had. He had no totally sure way of checking without having to leave his apartment, but he had a few ideas of how to gauge more or less what he’d actually done the night before.  

After showering and putting on a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie and a mask , because it was one of those days when he didn’t even want to think about being exposed, even to himself, he walked through his messy, gloomily lit apartment. Crossing his living room, he stopped by his large built in room divider and yanked open a drawer. The drawer had several burner phones and two tablets inside. Wade lifted out one of the tablets and switched it on as he walked over and sat down heavily on one of the sofas. 

Once it was started up and connected to his neighbor’s Wi-Fi, Wade searched for the break in of the CVS pharmacy. It was local news and had included just enough criminals and firearms to make some kind of news.   

And sure enough, it had happened.   

Okay, so, that was real. Including the fact that the guys had been found webbed together, only one injured and their getaway vehicle damaged. Wade felt a twinge of guilt when he read speculation that Spider-Man had injured the one guy. 

“Bad Deadpool.” he muttered to himself. Then, annoyed and trying not to feel anxious about reality, he tossed the tablet aside, where it landed on the couch but slipped onto the floor with a clack.  

Wade gave no fucks, already striding down the hall to his bedroom, where he’d dropped his utility belt as he’d started to undress. He picked it up, unholstering the guns and tossing them onto the bed before he opened his pouches and let the contents spill out over the floor. Tossing the belt aside, he crouched down and shifted all the stuff around until he found a specific slip of paper. 

It was an iHop receipt.  

Wade knew he’d kept it specifically because he’d wanted to check it the next day. That was how his mind worked when he wasn’t sure of his mental state, he tried to keep things to remind him of where he’d been or what he’d done. The slip read exactly what he recalled buying for Peter the night before.  

Taking in a deep breath, he crumpled the paper in his fist and stood up, tossing is aside as he walked back through the apartment, only pausing to glance into the kitchen to confirm there were no iHop food containers or packaging amidst all the other food containers and packaging. From there he continued, heading to his front door, where there was one more thing he could check.  

He rounded the corner to the front door and his eyes fell on the gun he’d brought back with him, the one he’d dropped on the floor the night before when he’d started freaking out. 

The one Peter had told him he couldn’t keep, but then had left it with him. Or he’d forgotten it. Or maybe Wade had just taken it? Had he bought iHop, eaten it outside and then come home. There was no such memory though, and he couldn’t make it up just to make the idea stick. His brain was fucky sometimes, but he couldn’t successfully lie to himself, he’d tried it before.  

More and more, it seemed like what he recalled happening with Peter on top of iHop, wasn’t just him being delusional. And in that moment as he stared at the gun on the floor, he felt both elated and physically sick about that fact. Elated because he’d actually kissed and touched Peter, because something too good to be true was actually happening to him…and sick because there was so much pressure knowing it was fucking real, and that he wanted it to keep being real.  

If it was really happening, and it really seemed like it was really happening, Wade had to be better , he had to do better, because Peter deserved way better than he was. Peter had said things, he’d said nice things, genuine things, to Wade, about Wade, he’d sounded like he really wanted to be with Wade. 

Wade didn’t think he was worth any of it, didn’t think he deserved any of it, but it was what Peter wanted, so he needed to do better.  

He took in another, deeper breath and then let out a grunting shout of frustration as he grabbed his head, ripping off his mask a moment later and throwing it on the floor, breathing heavily,  

“Don’t fuck this up!” he yelled out aloud to himself, “Fuck!” more deep breaths for a few long seconds, gathering his thoughts. He could do it, or he could at least try to do it. He wanted to try.  

He was going to try to be better. For Peter.  

First things first, he needed to get a new phone and keep it, and then he needed to get himself ready to visit Peter the next day as he’d said he would. He needed to start being reliable, and he needed to stay contactable.  

He glanced around the poorly lit mess of his apartment next and then thought about his suicide room, mentally noting that cleaning the place up was very necessary too. It wasn’t disgusting like it’d been during his darkest time, but it definitely wasn’t okay. Not if Peter would want to come over at some point, which, since Peter had invited Wade to his place, seemed like it would likely be the case at some point. Because that’s what…couples did.  

“Holy fucking mommy-shits…am I, am I getting into a relationship with fucking Spider-Man?” he asked himself out aloud. Then laughed a bit hysterically, “Holy shit.” 

At that point, Wade couldn’t even imagine a weirder, or better, thing happening to him. 

Letting out another groan of frustration, he leaned down, picked his mask back up to put it on and mentally prepared himself to go out.  

He used the rest of his Saturday afternoon to go out and get a new personal phone, and when he got back home, he cleaned up the worst of the mess in his suicide room and then the rest of his apartment. It wasn’t a great job, or even really a good job, but it was okay, it was...passable. He also found the key for the door to his suicide room and locked it. He’d never bothered before, but if Peter visited him sometime, Wade didn’t want him going in there, ever.

It was early evening and Wade was sitting low and hunched on his sofa, My Little Pony branded socked feet up on the coffee table and watching reruns of MacGyver, when he got a call from Weasel, the job broker telling him about a hit in Cali.   

Wade’s first reaction was wanting to tell Weasel to go ahead and set it up, but then he paused, mouth open around a half-chewed bite of his taco, as he thought about Peter first . Heh, that was new. 

“When?” he asked instead, swallowing his mouthful after. 

“ When? Uh, now, today, tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon. For a mark, it’s always a good day to die hard. ” Weasel’s deadpan tone changed just enough to feigned intensity at the end to be funny and Wade snorted.  

Silence on the line, until Wade said, 

“He can die on Monday then, I have something to do tomorrow.” as he eyed the last bite of his taco, held up between his ugly fingers.  

Weasel sighed tensely, and then, 

“ Are you taking jobs from Hell House again? ” and he actually sounded offended, as if Wade would be doing him dirty, or betraying him, by doing so. 

“Still butthurt about old Patch renaming the place such generic shit?” he asked nonchalantly. 

“ It has literally no creativity. When I was six, I had a fucking treehouse with a better name than that. ” Weasel sounded genuinely annoyed. Wade tilted his head, 

“You had a treehouse?” he laughed, “I can’t even picture you climbing stairs, let alone a ladder, or a tree.” 

“ Fuck you, Wade. ” that was the first time Weasel had said that to him in months, and Wade’s smile fell away immediately, anger rising, anger which he found himself trying to swallow down. Weasel stayed silent for a moment before going on somewhat cautiously, “ You told me, if I brokered jobs for any other mercs you’d bury me ,” yeah, Wade had said that, “ as it is, you rip me off with my cut, so if you’re taking jobs from that geriatric garden gnome, you’re really fucking me over, Wade.”    

Wade stared across the living room at the large TV mounted on the wall, taking note of the sound of genuine upset in Weasel’s tone, thinking about the state of Weasel’s life after he came back from the blip. Thinking of how they’d used to be friends… 

He knew that if he threatened Weasel the conversation would be over, and that’s what he’d normally do, but that was an asshole thing to do. And he was supposed to start trying to be better, trying not to be an asshole for no reason. It was not easy though, pushing people away, being angry, it still felt like a default, but it was changing. He'd noticed his default reactions weren’t so default anymore.  

Wade dropped the last bite of taco back into the wrapper, appetite leaving him as his conscience and his feelings started to bother him again, 

“I have something else to do, make it Monday.” he stated, voice firm and cold but not threatening, and then he added, “When I see you, we’ll discuss increasing your cut.” he hung up then, and annoyed with his changing feelings –toward anyone other than Peter-, he was about to throw his phone across the room. But when he remembered he shouldn’t, he grabbed the remote for the TV and threw it instead. Because fuck the remote. 

It was so annoying feeling certain things again. It infuriated him.   

Taking his hundredth deep breath for the day, Wade gently set his new phone down on the seat beside him and then hunched lower on the sofa. Anyway, in the end, ‘discussing’ increasing Weasel’s cut would just mean Wade would say a new number and Weasel would just agree, that was about as nice as he figured he’d be able to manage.  

A thought crossed Wade’s mind then, about killing Patch so Weasel could take the bar back. It wasn’t a bad idea, it’s not like Wade liked Patch, but then again, he didn’t dislike him either. 

“Maybe it’ll be Weasel’s birthday present.” he decided, reaching for the remote to turn the volume back on, and then sighing and clenching his jaw then he realized it was in pieces across the room. 

Resigned to having to buy a whole new TV, Wade hunched even lower on the sofa and watched the show silently, eventually starting to make voices for the characters in his head, and then out aloud.  

He was fairly entertained by his own sense of humor, and started eating again after some time, and it didn’t even cross his mind that he’d never actually known when Weasel’s birthday was.  

Sunday came and Wade was experiencing a problem he hadn’t in years .  

What should he wear ?  

It wasn’t ‘what to wear’ as in, he didn’t have clothes or that nothing looked good, even though as he tossed the contents of his wardrobe around, he enjoyed flicking his make-believe hair over his shoulder and saying ‘that will make me look slutty’. And putting his hands on his hips while saying ‘this is definitely not my colour, I’m an autumn, not a winter’.  

The true problem was that Wade knew he couldn’t wear his Deadpool suit.  

Firstly, he doubted Peter would appreciate it if he did, because he’d invited Wade to his home , not Deadpool. Second, he doubted Peter’s neighbors would appreciate it, ie: Deadpool walking in the entrance of their apartment building wearing a super suit and carrying guns and various other weapons.  

The thing was, not wearing his suit presented the problem of not having something to 100% conceal his skin, which, since the relationship with Peter had taken a physical turn, was an issue. Wade was not ready to show too much skin, or any skin actually, but Peter would possibly want more physical contact... and fuuuuuuck Wade still hadn’t completely wrapped his head around that . Around the fact that that was a thing now.  

“We’re not going to fuck.” he told himself in a whining voice as he paced around his room wearing his mask and underwear. It was way too soon for Wade! He wanted to, absolutely, very fucking absolutely, but only...eventually. Because sex would require nudity -because Peter was not someone who deserved to be fucked by someone still wearing clothes- and Wade was not ready for nudity. Hell, Peter wasn’t ready to see all his gross nudity either.  

Surely Peter didn’t want sex yet anyway. No, no, he definitely didn’t want sex yet. Wade though, he wasn’t sure he’d say no if Peter did want sex, because how the fuck was he supposed to say no to Spider-Man wanting sex with him! He was crazy but he wasn’t that kind of crazy! 

It was so stressful and very scary and it was making his head spin. Because if Peter wanted sex and he couldn’t say no and he had to get naked, then Peter would see what he looked like, too much, too soon, and would definitely throw him right the fuck out and Wade had no idea how well he’d be able to stay on his already unstable mental rails facing that kind of rejec-  

UGGGGGHH.  

He knew he was overthinking it! Peter had not meant ‘fucking’ when he’d said they could pick up where they’d left off. He probably just wanted to make out some more, because Wade had noticed he’d been super into it. And making out was good, it was great actually! They could make out with all their clothing on their bodies.  

He took in a few breaths and dialed down his drama setting. No spiraling. He had to be better. Stable. 

So, he decided he’d wear his mask, because he couldn’t go out without it on, he’d tried doing that again after the blip and people’s reactions hadn’t been any different. They all still stared and gawked and made insensitive grossed out expressions. And Wade couldn’t risk his temper going off. 

So, his mask…his mask and what else?  

He wanted to wear enough layers to feel covered up well, but not too many that it’d be obvious to Peter he was trying to cover up. He checked his wrist to see if he was late, but he had no watch on. Shit. 

Wade threw some clothes around until he found his new phone on the bed and he saw that it was 10.12 am. Peter had said 11 am. Wade wasn’t even partially ready, not in terms of showering and dressing or in terms of visiting Peter at his apartment.  

Deciding more was less, he grabbed a long sleeve shirt, a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, a hoodie and also a long black coat, and tossed them onto his messy clothes covered bed, before pulling his mask off and rushing to the bathroom.

Since Wade’s apartment was pretty far from Astoria, he had to take a cab to Peter’s place.  

He threw money at the cab driver once they pulled up, before getting out of the car. He then stood on the street of Peter’s apartment building for another few minutes after the cab drove off, just looking at the daunting front entrance of the building. A few people were around along the road and they glanced at him, some looked longer than a glance and Wade had to hold himself back from pointing his gun at them and telling them to fuck off. 

Yes, he had a gun on him, a single one. Just the one. 

And not even one of his Desert Eagles, just a normal everyday Glock 17, nothing fancy.  

It was completely concealed under his clothes though, he wasn’t trying to be flashy. He was wearing many layers too, which was better for concealing the gun. In addition to the clothes he’d chosen, he also wore boots and gloves, and most of his clothes were dark colours, the only exception being the hoodie under his coat, which was dark red. 

He’d only realized once he was leaving his apartment building and he’d glanced at himself in the reflection of the elevator’s mirrors, that he was essentially wearing his Deadpool colours.  

That had actually made him feel a bit better, less anxious, but now he was anxious all over again as he crossed the street, walking toward the front entrance of Peter’s apartment building, making sure the hood of his hoodie was properly over his head… 

…but he stopped on the sidewalk, a few feet outside the entrance.  

He just couldn’t do it.  

Peter was waiting for Wade, feeling nervous, but in a good way.  

He’d had the rest of Saturday to bury any uncertain or confused feelings he’d been having about that photo he had of ‘before-Wade’, and he was in good spirits and ready to see…his boyfriend. 

He actually needed to clear that up too. He just hoped Wade wasn’t one of those ‘no label’ types of guys, because Peter liked labels, he liked labels like ‘couple’ and ‘exclusive’ and ‘monogamous’, they mattered to him.  

Maybe he’d bring it up while they were eating. He’d ordered some fast food, Chinese, for them to eat and it was still warm where it was sitting in the packets on the kitchen counter. As it was, he wasn’t even entirely sure of what would happen about eating, what with Wade’s issue about his skin, but he also wanted to see if he could convince Wade to maaaaaybe lose the mask.

The idea of upsetting Wade made him anxious all over again and he sighed as he paced slowly in his small lounge. He was looking down at his socked feet when it occurred to him that maybe he was underdressed? Was it possible to be underdressed in his own apartment? Was a jeans and T-shirt not dressed up enough?  

He was chewing on his lip and wondering about changing, glancing at his wall clock which showed he had two minutes before 11. He ran a hand through his hair. Was it too untidy? Should he have done something to his hair? Was Wade even going to be on time? Wha-  

There was a knock.  

Peter blinked and then blinked again and frowned as he turned around to look at his bedroom doorway. The knock had come from inside his room. From his bedroom window? He walked toward his room and as soon as he stepped inside, he looked across it to the halfway open window, his eyes widening in confused surprised to see Wade crouching on the windowsill, hanging on to…something. Wade raised one gloved hand and waved at him. Peter waved back…  

And then he snapped out of his surprise and moved toward the window, pushing it up fully the moment he got to it. 

“Hey.” Wade said, from behind his mask. 

“Hey.” Peter responded and then he stepped back, “Uh, c-come in.” 

Wade easily slipped in through the window, and then courteously pulled it halfway closed again, before turning to look at Peter, 

“Sorry about coming in through the window.” he sounded pretty sincere about it, expressive mask showing it too.  

“Uh, sure…” Peter said, a bit distracted by how good Wade smelled, whatever body spray, or deodorant or cologne he wore wasn’t cheap and it smelled great. “Uh, why did you come in through the window?” he asked absently, while noting that Wade also looked really good, wearing normal clothes but in his Deadpool colours. His jeans fit him really nicely too, showing off his long legs. And with the way he wore the hoodie and coat together, it was just a nice look, a nice outfit.  

Yep, Peter felt underdressed in his own apartment.  

“Not really a front door kind of guy.” Wade said lightly, “More the window, rooftop, emergency exit or ventilation system kind of guy.” 

Peter frowned, distraction fading as he considered what Wade had just said, 

“You mean when you’re on a job…to kill someone.” 

Wade’s masked eyes widened briefly and then he hesitated before he said, 

“I can see how this visit should not be related to my job,” a sheepish, half frowning expression, “my bad, Baby Boy.”  

He did sound like he felt bad about it, and honestly, it didn’t even bother Peter, he was just confused by it. Deciding not to let Wade get himself down about it, Peter smiled and said, 

“It’s not a big deal,” as he closed the distance between them and quickly leaned up to peck Wade on the mouth through the mask, wanting to keep making him feel comfortable around Peter when it came to being close, when it came to his skin, even when it was covered up. “I don’t use the front door that often either.” he added, and then turned to lead the way out of the room.  

He was not expecting to be grabbed around his waist and pulled back into Wade’s hold, Wade’s arms encircling his middle and Wade leaning over him, the man’s masked face pressed into the side of his neck and his shoulder. It was a very pleasant surprise and Peter relaxed into the hold immediately, lifting his hands to hold onto Wade’s where they were folded across his middle. He was also surprised by how his stomach flooded with butterflies and his neck felt so sensitive all of a sudden as Wade breathed in against his skin. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Wade felt good, Wade smelled good.   

Peter’s heart was racing and his chest felt full.  

“You’re so fucking perfect I’m having trouble believing this is all happening.” Wade said in a rushed exhale and Peter’s smile turned softer as he shifted his head so he was speaking against the side of Wade’s mask, the hood having fallen off, 

“I’m not perfect, Wade. But I can tell you this is really happening, and I’m happy it is.”  

Wade groaned into his neck and nuzzled him, and Peter definitely enjoyed being nuzzled, he just did wish Wade would do it without the mask o-  

An image flashed in his mind right then and he immediately felt bad about it, because in his mind the image of the man in the picture popped up, and that was not right. Because even if it was Wade, it was Wade before the mutation, Wade before whatever had happened to his skin. 

It was wrong for Peter to have that other person’s face in his mind.  

He felt a little nauseous with guilt, especially since Wade was holding onto him so sweetly and quietly telling him how good he smelled and felt and again, how perfect he was. 

“Hey, come on,” Peter started to walk forward, Wade falling into a waddling sort of step behind him, not letting go, “I ordered us Chinese and it’s getting cold. I don’t wanna’ microwave it.” he half laughed the last part, smiling fully as Wade nuzzled him again and inhaled extra loud. 

“Better than cotton candy unicorns.” he said the same thing he’d said just the other night and Peter felt that blush crawling further and further up his neck.  

He really liked Wade.  

They made their way all the way to the kitchen like that, neither trying to separate from the other, and even once they reached the kitchen counter with the food, Wade still held on as Peter, still smiling, started unpacking the food cartons.  

“Smells good, right?” he asked as he opened a carton of orange chicken.  

“Hmmm, so good.” Wade said into his neck. Peter snorted, 

“I mean the food, Wade.” he loved it though, he had no idea he could enjoy being doted on and adored, but apparently it worked for him. He didn’t want Wade to stop.   

He kept smiling, and he was just wondering if he should use plates when he felt Wade pull back from his neck, one arm sliding away from his waist. Peter assumed the extended cuddle was over, but then he heard the sound of material shifting and felt Wade moving a bit behind him, and he was even more pleasantly surprised when Wade returned to nuzzle his neck…mask pushed up.  

The unusual texture of his lips and face on Peter’s skin was both new and familiar and he broke out in goosebumps as Wade kissed along the side of his neck, kisses warm and bit damp, all the way up to the back of his ear, where he nuzzled again lightly, that time into Peter’s hair. And after returning his other arm to its place around his waist, Wade squeezed him tightly.  

“I have got to be fucking dreaming.” the merc muttered. 

“You’re not dreaming.” Peter responded quietly, abandoning the task of unpacking the food to focus on Wade, who had just exposed his lower face without being prompted to. It was no small thing, and Peter didn’t want to let the moment just pass. 

“Why, why would you want me of all people?” Wade asked, back to kissing the side of his neck. His skin was the same as his lips, not very smooth or soft and it felt uneven and a little too dry in places, but it was warm and it didn’t feel uncomfortable against Peter’s sensitive neck, just unusual. But the kind of unusual Peter knew he could get used to. 

Like he had when they’d been kissing.  

He swallowed with a soft click in the silence of the kitchen as he thought about kissing Wade again, but he was also thinking of Wade’s question, and the answer to it. He had a rush of different feelings then, from his rapidly growing feelings for Wade, to the trust issues he had because of Beck, to the ache of losing Tony, his mentor and friend, and to how the crime of New York sometimes plagued him. All the atrocities mankind was capable of, roiling around inside his memory, replaying in his head whenever he tried to sleep, and even sometimes when he was awake.  

A small lump formed in his throat, which he spoke through a little raspily, 

“Because I feel like I can trust you.” he said honestly, quietly, “I feel like you wouldn’t hurt me.” Wade squeezed him tighter still, “You would never turn on me.” his voice cracked a little, “Would never try to kill the people I care about.” his eyes burned a little, and he didn’t know if Wade would lie to him, but he asked anyway, “Would you?”  

Wade took in a deep breath against his neck and he felt Wade shake his head, 

“No, I wouldn’t, not intentionally, but Peter, my life is a mess and I’m a mes-…” 

“As long as I can trust you , Wade, as Spider-Man and myself…about me being Spider-Man, about the two different lives I need to live to protect people, strangers or my family.” Peter meant it. Being able to trust someone besides those close to him before his mutation, to talk and be open with someone about who he really was, was so important to him. To know that person wouldn’t sell him out. 

Wade hadn’t sold him out.  

Wade shook his head, 

“Never gonna’ hurt you, Baby Boy, never gonna’ turn on you.” Wade was saying and Peter swallowed again, the lump still stuck there in his throat. Then, slowly, he lifted one hand from holding Wade’s forearm and raised it upwards, toward Wade...who drew back from his neck immediately and went very still behind him. And it hurt a bit, Wade pulling away from him like that, but Peter swallowed that ache too, just reminding himself to be patient, 

“You can trust me too, Wade.” Peter said sincerely, and then he curled his fingers in and started to lower his hand, “I just want you to know tha-” 

“Okay.” Wade said quietly, and Peter stopped lowering his hand. 

“O-okay? 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah, you sure?” he doubled checked, opening his hand and wiggling his fingers once. A pause, then, 

“...yeah.” Wade’s voice was small, quiet and tense. 

Peter raised his hand again then, and kept going with his fingers extended until he touched Wade’s face…Wade’s bare skin.  

Wade was holding his breath. Peter could hear it.  

So, he leaned back into the older super’s tense hold to stay close and made the contact firmer, his fingertips gently and slowly sliding along Wade’s jawline and up onto his cheek. His skin was extremely textured, Peter’s sensitive fingers feeling the ridges, bumps, lines and indents, some shallow, some a little more noticeable, some rougher or softer, some spots felt a little fleshier, like the skin was rawer maybe, some was too dry, just as he’d thought before. And despite the body scent Wade was wearing, with his mask up, Peter could smell the coppery scent again.  

It was Wade’s skin.   

Peter lightened his touch as he brushed over a fleshier spot under Wade’s jaw, wondering if Wade’s skin hurt in those spots, 

“Can I, c-can I turn around?” he asked seriously, a small frown on his face. 

“It looks even worse than it feels.” Wade said, voice tense. He was stock still and now his tone sounded a bit closed off, like his guard was going back up. Peter stopped touching him, curled his fingers in, 

“Does it hurt?” 

There was a moment silence, then Wade croaked, 

“What?” 

Peter had no idea why, but the tense emotion in Wade’s voice made his own throat tighten up again, 

“Your skin…it’s, it feels,” Peter swallowed again, “does it hurt at all when I touch you? Is that part of the reason you don’t wan-”  

“Jesus, no.” Wade whispered emphatically, “You’re the first person I’ve wanted to be touched by since...” he didn’t finish, instead swallowing audibly and breathing out through his nose.  

The woman from that picture flashed in Peter’s mind after Wade trailed off and he pursed his lips as his eyes burned again.  

Had Wade loved someone and lost them, that beautiful woman? And then he hadn’t been with anyone since. He’d said so…he’d said it’d been years. Now, he wanted to be with Peter but it was hard for him, because his mutation had done something to him…something bad. 

“Wade, can I turn around, please?” his voice was tight and a little high with emotion. 

“Fuck…” Wade breathed out, then, “…fucking, fuck, okay, fine. Shit.” he let go, stepped back from Peter.  

Peter wanted to smile, he was so happy Wade was trusting him, but he kept it in check, and with a quick glance down at the fried, shrimp wontons right in front of him, he turned around. And not slow like he was expecting something scary, or too fast like he was ripping off a band aid, but as normally as he could. Then, for the first time since they’d met so many years ago, Peter was seeing some actual part of Wade Wilson.   

Just the lower half of his face and part of his neck. And Peter let himself look, really look at what he could see of Wade, at the relatively sharp tip of his nose, the tense line of his mouth, his clenched jawline...his lack of facial hair. His discolored, textured skin.  

His skin.

...the fire or the flood.

Chapter Text

...but I can't be certain that you're really real.

Wade’s skin was...well, it was bad. It was actually worse than Peter had expected.  

Although, even as he thought that, he admitted to himself that he hadn’t really known what he expected. He’d felt patches of overly tender skin just a moment earlier, and he’d wondered if it hurt, so he’d been associating it with something not completely healed. He’d also felt the uneven texture, so seeing the irregular skin now made sense. And he’d tasted and smelled blood each time he’d been close to Wade, so a part of him had subconsciously expected something that was raw in some way. 

And that’s what he was looking at- 

“Peter?” Wade voice was as tense as the line of his lips and his jaw. And Peter, who’d been so distracted by how the skin looked, finally snapped out of it, realizing he needed to say something. His primary concern was to know one thing first, so he asked, 

“It really doesn’t hurt?” voice quiet and curious, still looking at the lower half of Wade’s face, at the sharp line of his jaw and the skin stretched over it. It looked sore, it looked like it hurt.  

Wade’s skin was visibly rawer in some of the indents. Redder, and darker, like blood was too close to the surface, it looked tender. In other places though, it was in various later stages of being healed and healing. The color of his skin also varied in pigments from red to light brown and petechiae was visible in many of the rawer areas too. Peter would have considered it just scarring, it if hadn’t been for the clear raw redness. And Wade’s skin had been very warm to the touch around the rawer areas when he’d used his hand to feel it, like how skin was when white blood cells were in the process of healing a wound. So, it had to have something to do with Wade’s mutation, something that was probably ongoing, something that made him look healed in some places and not so healed in others. Something he had to live with. 

“That’s an...unspecific question.” Wade finally answered, sounding hesitant and uncertain.  

Peter frowned, 

“So, it does hurt somehow.” he felt an ache in his chest then, because Wade’s answer was indirect confirmation that something hurt. But all he answered with was a shrug and, 

“Nothing I’m not used to.” and Peter was frowning, watching his mouth. He’d seen a glimpse of Wade’s teeth when he’d spoken though and he blinked, frown fading and a smile forming as he decided immediately that it was much better being able to see Wade’s mouth.  

And there was a patch on the right side of Wade’s lower lip that looked quite raw, as well as a few other lines too in between the dryer parts of his lips, the surface uneven. Peter was focused on it, it looked about the same as it had felt to kiss, and about the same as it had felt against the side of his neck. Peter really wanted the whole damn mask off, but patience was his best bet and he knew it.  

As it was, taking a moment to assess his feelings about Wade and finally seeing his skin, he realized he wasn’t freaked out, or let down or grossed out, or whatever Wade had assumed he’d be. He understood the disfigurement of Wade’s skin had something to do with his mutation, and yeah, it wasn’t pretty, but it didn’t take away from how he’d come to feel about Wade as a person, and also, the aesthetic proportions of what Peter could see of his face, and could interpret a little from the shape of his mask, were all still present. He features weren’t disfigured, only his skin. 

 That picture in his phone of before-Wade, those features, that bone structure…it was all still there, visible beneath the disfigured skin. Peter felt…calm about it, he felt accepting, and when he asked himself if he still wanted to get close to Wade, still wanted to kiss him, the answer was still yes. Albeit that seeing the redness and knowing it was going to taste metallic was a little stranger, he still wanted to kiss Wade.  

So, he went for it, closing the gap between them that Wade had made when he’d stepped back earlier. Wade didn’t move away, just tensely inclined his head and swallowed audibly as he looked down at him, then Peter lifted himself to the tips of his socked toes and kissed Wade on the lips again, right on the red patch, lingering for just a moment, before he stood flat again. And Wade’s lips slowly parted in surprise, the older super’s mask eyes widening, when Peter smiled up at him. Peter bobbed his eyebrows once, quite happy to be showing Wade he was fine, that he was okay with the outcome of seeing Wade’s ‘dreaded’ skin. He wanted Wade to know he was still attracted to him.  

In hopes of making Wade feel even more comfortable, Peter decided to change the subject, and using the wonton he’d grabbed before turning around, he raised it where it was pinched between his fingers, up to Wade’s parted lips, nudging it inside. Wade sort of numbly accommodated him, just parting his lips further as Peter said, 

“Great, now we can eat together.” he closed Wade’s mouth with his fingers under his chin after the wonton was inside, “I’m hungry, let’s eat before it’s all totally cold.” he said casually, then turned around and grabbed some of the unpacked food cartons, “Grab the rest, Wade, there are sodas in that packet.” he gestured to said packet, and then headed out of the kitchen, pursing his lips nervously once Wade couldn’t see.  

Peter could only hope he was showing Wade that it was okay, and that he didn’t mind. He could only hope Wade didn’t think he was being dismissive. It was really difficult to know what the best way to carry on was, but he supposed he’d find out in a moment, when Wade either decided to bring the food through, or possibly just decided to leave. Peter felt nervous tension forming in his stomach due to all the uncertainty.  

He set down the cartons he was holding onto the coffee table he’d cleared earlier -or mostly cleared, all of his research papers were untidily piled at the corner- and when he turned around, he felt relieved to see Wade coming toward him, carrying the rest of the food stuff. And even though he wasn’t smiling, his mouth in a straight, sealed line, his mask was still rolled up . That was a good thing!  

Peter decided to follow through on just not focusing on the mask or skin issue, since it seemed to be working quite okay for the moment, 

“I just ordered a bunch of different stuff, hope I covered stuff you eat too.” he commented as he sat down on the double sofa just when Wade set down what he’d brought over. Peter started to unpack the rest of the food and their drinks, Wade responding with, 

“It’s all good, Pete.” a bit stiffly as he sat down on the sofa too, further away than necessary. 

Peter was pulling his disposable chopsticks apart when he noticed the distance Wade had put between them, but he held back a sigh, instead grabbing one of the other sets of chopsticks and holding it out to Wade, 

“At least eat something first, okay, and then you can put your mask back down if it’ll make you feel better.” he was a bit down about it, but he would accept it. He didn’t want Wade to be uncomfortable.  

Wade looked at him sidelong then, his jawline sharp and tense, before he nodded once and reached for the chopsticks. Peter still managed a smile, because it still felt like they’d moved forward, not backward. Wade reached for a box of noodles first and he seemed content to focus on that and not look at Peter. Funnily enough though, he didn’t eat in way that suggested he was uncomfortable, using the chopsticks to expertly bring a very large quantity of noodles into his mouth, not trying to be tidy or polite about it. 

He chewed rigidly though, very harshly, and then he sighed a bit loudly...and Peter realized he’d been staring! 

“S-sorry, sorry, I wasn’t, I mean I-…” 

“Used to being stared at.” he said coldly around his half-chewed food, jaw still working. 

“No, Wade, I swear I wasn’t looking at you because of your sk-” 

“Just forget it, Peter.” he put another large amount of noodles into his mouth, continued to chew rigidly.  

Peter felt his stomach sink. First Pete…now Peter. No cutesy nicknames, Wade’s cold, guarded voice.  

He honestly didn’t know what to do or say right then, so after a beat of sitting and staring at Wade’s knee, he just turned to face forward, picked up a box of noodles and started eating too. 

They ate in silence for a while, until Wade was done with his noodles and put the empty box back on the table. Peter barely glanced at him, not wanting Wade to think he was staring again. He expected Wade to pull his mask down, but after licking noodle sauce off his lips he cleared his throat and said, 

“Don’t ever apologize to me, it’s not necessary.” Peter blinked and looked at Wade, mouth closed around a piece of chicken, eyes wide, “It’s actually better if you look at it, it doesn’t get any less ugly, but maybe you’ll get used to it faster.” he reached for a can of Doctor Pepper and popped the tab, voice still stiff.  

Peter watched Wade’s throat work as he drank, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, because without his suit on, his throat and part of his neck were visible, despite the hoodie and coat bunching up on his shoulders and it was new to Peter so he wanted to look. When Wade finally lowered the half drained can, Peter had chewed and swallowed and he said, 

“I’m not staring at your skin, Wade.” he licked his lips and then pursed them, shifting on the sofa a bit so he was facing Wade, one leg folded up on the couch, “This is just literally the first time I’m seeing any actual part of you under the suit, so I do want to look at you.” he admitted quietly.  

Wade clearly frowned, the brow of his mask expressing it plainly -which still baffled Peter-, 

“You can’t expect me to believe my pizza face doesn’t bother you at all .” he sounded frustrated. 

“I like pizza.” Peter quipped, reaching for a can of Pepsi to open it. Wade snorted, his lips quirking up finally. Peter was still watching Wade as he opened the can, enjoying being able to see some real expressions on at least part of his face. 

“I’m being serious.” the amusement faded. 

“So am I.” Peter didn’t miss a beat, taking a sip of his Pepsi and Wade sighed again. Peter set his can down then, looked at Wade and seriously said, “I see your skin, Wade, I see the…condition of it.” Wade’s jaw tensed, his lips pulling down at the corners. Peter moved closer again, close enough that his knee and shin were touching Wade’s thigh, “But it doesn’t bother me-” 

“Haah!” Wade made the sound without any actual laughter, cutting Peter off abruptly, and the sound was actually abrasive. He turned his head so he was looking away from Peter, “You say that now, but it’s not just my face, its everywhere . From the top of my head to the fucking skin between my toes. Even my dick looks like this.” he gestured to his crotch and then abruptly stood up and gestured to the rest of himself, “It’s no fucking party under here, Peter.”  

Peter watched him irritably start to pace, his tall figure visibly thrumming with tension and a certain amount of violence. He looked like he wanted to break something but was clearly holding himself back. As usual though, Peter’s senses were calm, Wade presented no threat of violence to him.  

Peter nodded idly, feeling totally out of his depth, not sure how to show Wade he meant it without just saying generic words of reassurance. So, he said, 

“I get it.” and he kind of did. Wade had to deal with how he looked every day and he’d probably had it really hard because people were jerks, “But can’t you trust me when I say I’m okay with it?” 

“I trust that you think you’ll be okay with it.” Wade muttered angrily. 

Peter sighed softly, leaned his elbows on his knees, 

“What can I do or say, Wade?” Wade turned to look at him, “What can I do to get you to believe me? To convince you that I’m okay with your skin.” he honestly needed to know.  

Wade’s reaction to that genuinely startled him, when the older man yelled ‘fuck’ and grabbed his head as he started muttering things about what an idiot he was and how he was supposed to be better. Peter stood up in alarm, and just in time too, because Wade started hitting his head with closed fists pretty damn forcefully as he continued to berate himself.  

“Hey! Nononono...” Peter easily jumped right over the table and landed in front of Wade, grabbing his wrists, but this time when he held Wade’s arms it was with enough of his strength to immediately stop Wade from moving, “d-don’t do th-…” 

“Fuuuuuck, so strong.” Wade whispered randomly, staring at Peter’s hands. Peter blinked and glanced at where he held Wade’s wrists. He was about to let go and apologize but then Wade added, voice sheepish and continually self-deprecating, “I’m making this even worse, huh? Showing you my crazy in real time.”  

Peter loosened his grip, but didn’t completely let go, 

“Nothing’s worse, nothing is even bad, Wade, just, just believe me, okay?” Peter hated to think of what Wade had been through to make him feel so awful about himself, so sure of rejection, but he needed Wade to know he was sincere, “I’m not lying to you.” Peter said emphatically, “I won’t lie to you. And I still like you, I still want this.” 

“But why me?” that question again. Peter was starting to feel a little upset by Wade’s distress, 

“I’m not as great as you think I am, okay?” he blurted out loudly and Wade’s masked brow furrowed, his mouth shaping into disagreement. Peter didn’t let him speak, “The last time I dropped my guard, the last time I trusted someone, someone who seemed righteous and honest and called himself a hero, a good guy, someone who claimed to be my friend…I was wrong about him, so wrong.  And I was stupid about the whole thing, and people got hurt and people died and I g-got hurt-” 

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Wade growled, teeth briefly clenched and bared.  

Peter couldn’t help but snort out a laugh, half sad, half flattered, 

“He’s already dead.” he informed Wade, his hands having slid down to hold Wade’s forearms, he realized then that they were standing pretty close, 

“Who was it?” he asked, eyes narrowed.  

Peter swallowed thickly, he didn’t even like saying the name, 

“M-mysterio.” 

Wade quirked his brow, tilted his head and whispered, 

“Jake Gyllenhaal.” 

Peter frowned, 

“Who? N-no, Mysterio, uh, Quentin Beck.” 

“The douchebag with the fishbowl on his head?” 

Peter smiled,  

“Yeah, that’s the one.” he was still feeling sad, but as Wade started to come around, tone of voice lightening, tension draining away, Peter started to feel better. “And a cape.” he added. 

“Oh my God, a cape . Hah! What fucking asshat wears a cape!” Wade actually did laugh that time. 

Peter laughed too. Wade was right, but Peter didn’t agree out aloud since Thor still wore a cape and it made him feel bad to laugh.  

Seeing Wade’s smile was so great though. So great that even though Peter felt strange going from high to low, to high again emotionally, and despite Wade exhausting his emotions, he didn’t feel like it was a bad thing. A lack of emotional transparency was part of the reason Peter hadn’t seen things falling apart with MJ until it was too late. She’d always had trouble getting close to people, and their communication had never been very good, especially since Peter had started keeping a lot of his Spider-Man issues from her early on.  

Wade’s emotional volatility was exhausting, but the honesty, the in-the-moment rant or odd comments and statements that revealed truths, the way he just said things he was thinking or feeling, Peter needed that. He needed to know what was going on so he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.  

Wade was still smiling now though, and that had all of Peter’s focus because despite the disfigured skin, he had a great smile, the same smile as the man in that picture, but a little different because it was now-Wade, not before-Wade. Peter really hoped it’d be soon when he finally saw Wade’s whole fac- 

“Baby, if I could bring that asshole back I would, and I would fuck him the fuck up, no matter how powerful he was. If he killed me a hundred times, I’d come back until I could make him eat his own shi-shmm.” Peter was actually laughing now as he covered Wade’s mouth with his hand to stop him from finishing that gross sentence.   

Still laughing a bit, he leaned forward so his forehead rested on Wade’s chest, and he felt comfortable and happy when Wade’s arms automatically slipped around him.  

Peter’s laughter tapered off before he said, 

“He had no powers,” letting his hand slide down to Wade’s collar bone, which he could feel through the layers Wade wore, while his other hand came up to lightly hold onto the pocket of Wade’s hoodie, “he was using drone technology to project himself as a dude with powers and- uuugh,” Peter closed his eyes and shook his head a little, “he was actually just a normal, evil-minded asshole. It doesn’t even matter.” he sighed, and then he inhaled the scent of Wade again, up close. It was comforting.  

He opened his eyes quickly though, when Wade brought a hand up to hold his face and tilted Peter’s head back so they could look at each other, 

“It fucking matters.” Wade said, quiet but so serious, his gloved thumb stroking the side of Peter’s eye, “He hurt you, he scarred you. I’ve heard it in your voice a few times, and I heard it now. That fucker damaged your trust, he left a mark, Baby Boy. You don’t have to act like it never happened. It matters .” 

Peter’s fingers curled tightly into Wade’s hoodie pocket, his other hand also clenching on Wade’s chest as a warm feeling filled his chest and his throat, and his eyes even burned a little as he smiled at Wade, 

“ That’s why I like you, because I feel better when I’m with you, like I’m okay, not such a mess. And I feel like I’m not alone,” he said with raw honesty, voice a little croaky, and he was already rising up onto his toes a bit when he added, “and because you make the shitty stuff I’ve done and been through, not feel so shitty.”  

Wade had inclined his head as Peter leaned up and it was sort of their second kiss –even though they’d kissed a lot that night on top of iHop- but it felt significant, like another first.  

And it felt less urgent and more gradual as their lips touched, slotting together just right before slowly parting, Wade’s lips first and Peter following, their tongues meeting at almost exactly the same moment. The kiss that followed was different on many levels, more intimate and far less sexual, just a slow, deep and sensual parting and sealing of their mouths a few times before they drew apart, noses still touching, breaths mingling -Peter’s more escalated, Wade’s deeper-, both supers smiling. 

And yeah, kissing Wade was still great, his skin didn’t make a difference.  

“Just for the record,” Wade said playfully, “I like you too. Like, a fuck lot.” 

Pursing his lips on a smile and moving his other hand up to join the one already on Wade’s chest, Peter made a ‘you don’t say’ face as he said, 

“Good to know.” amused and pleased, and Wade leaned in and kissed him again then, short and sweet, before drawing back, the older super adding, 

“But seriously, when you get sick of me, don’t hesitate to tell me to fuck off.” masked brow raised. 

Peter half rolled his eyes, dropping back down to his toes and dragging Wade with him by the grip on his hoodie, Wade’s masked eyes widening since he hadn’t been able to resist the pull, 

“If I say okay, will you shut up about it?” Peter asked mock threateningly. 

“Yes, sir, Baby Boy.” Wade said instantly, sounding more aroused than threatened. 

Peter just grinned, loving the fact that Wade seemed to appreciate his strength, 

“Okay then.” he let go of Wade’s hoodie, but Wade did not let go of the hold he had…quite low on Peter’s waist. Peter had to remind himself to focus, “So, the food’s definitely cold by now.” he commented. 

“Most definitely.” Wade distractedly agreed, his hands splaying wider, covering more surface, fingers skimming the rise of Peter’s butt. 

Peter tried his best not to grin, 

“We should warm it up and, uh, I thought we could watch a movie.” he didn’t stop Wade’s hands as they inched lower, but his words seemed to get Wade’s attention, 

“No Spidey duty?” 

Peter shrugged facially, 

“Unless something serious happens, not until much later.” 

Wade tilted his head, 

“Netflix and chill?” 

Peter blushed rather quickly and bit his lower lip, 

“Let’s start with Netflix and uh, hope nothing comes up.” he said as he stepped back, out of Wade’s hold, turning and leaning over to pick up the cartons that needed warming. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hope to make it to the ‘chill’ part. 

Wade was, for all of his skin insecurity, way less subtle, 

“I can personally think of at least one thing that is definitely going to come up.” he said in a playful, yet very matter of fact way, and Peter, still blushing, turned around to find Wade shamelessly looking at his butt.  

Peter kept blushing, and he was definitely not nearly as experienced in talking in innuendos as Wade was, but he was quite proud of himself when, after glancing pointedly at Wade’s crotch, he walked by the man and said, 

“Let’s hope nothing bad comes up.” on his way to the kitchen. 

His enhanced hearing was good enough that even from the kitchen he could hear Wade freaking out under his breath, but it was a good freakout and Peter was quite pleased with himself, grinning as he started the process of warming up the food.  

Wade had long ago figured he was probably no longer all that sane, but the fact that Peter was truly interested in him, was truly putting up with him, was really fucking with him. He knew, he just knew, that there would be a limit Peter would reach at some point though, there had to be, because it was too good to be true. But until that happened, he had to try to reel in the random outbursts of insecurities. Especially since Peter seriously seemed to consider him someone he trusted.  

Shit. Wade felt both awful and really good about having Peter’s trust. He wanted to run from it as much as he wanted to live up to it, but felt like he couldn’t do either one without fucking up, without hurting Peter. And he didn’t want to hurt Peter, or let him down, not like anyone might have done before. Finally finding out the name of the person behind that distinct pain he’d heard in Peter’s voice on a few occasions, had really pissed him off. He hadn’t immediately recalled who Mysterio was, but after a moment it had clicked, and he’d remembered some big hoopla about the first Avengers level threat since the blip.  

It hadn’t happened in NY, so Wade hadn’t really given a shit. He probably wouldn’t have given much of a shit even if it had happened in NY. What reminded him of who Mysterio was, was that it’d been about the same time that shitty newspaper had started printing shit talk about Spider-Man. If he was recalling the timeline correctly, it had happened when he’d just been starting to come out of his self-imposed year of isolation. It had supposedly been a big deal, and as Wade recalled, the only Avenger who’d done anything about it had been Spider-Man.  

Peter.  

Peter had been through a lot, and he was so young. Wade really needed to remember that. He really wanted to be the reason Peter smiled, and nothing else. Which meant he definitely needed to dial down the freak outs and self-hate diatribes around the younger super, Peter didn’t seem to respond well to them, he always looked worried and uncertain when Wade started to lose it. 

But he did seem to like it a lot when Wade flirted, when Wade teased, and he’d blush and his fucking smile was so perfect and adorable and he’d kissed Wade even after seeing his fucked-up skin! And damn, that kiss, it had been something different from what had happened on iHop’s rooftop. It had been like they’d been sealing some kind of deal. 

Like maybe that kiss had been an ‘its official’ kiss.  

Wade was still aware of the fact that when it ended, inevitably, it was going to wreck him, but for now-  

“What about this one?” Peter asked as the trailer for a different movie started to preview. Wade tilted his head as he watched the trailer of some unoriginal comedy plot unfold. They’d finished eating about a half hour ago and all that time after, they’d been going through trailers. They’d started out making fun of trailers on Netflix and still hadn’t chosen anything to actually watch, all the while just pointing out this weird thing or that lame thing and Wade hadn’t done something so silly – with another person- in years; it was fun.  

“Fuck no, babe,” Wade grimaced, “just add Jason Lee and a couple of potheads and you’d have a Jay and Silent Bob remake.” he paused, “Reboot? Remake?” he could never remember the difference, sorry Jason Lee, “Fuck it, either way, nobody needs to see that.” 

“Jay and Silent Bob?” Peter asked, lips pursing afterward, like he wanted to laugh. And he was cute as a button where he sat quite close beside Wade on the couch, his legs bent up while Wade was manspreading. He looked so comfortable and his hair looked super soft and messy. A wavy, brown bedhead to go with his pretty brown eyes.  

Wade faked a gasp at Peter’s question, although it made sense that he had no idea about it, since mentioning Jay and Silent Bob was kind of, technically, a fourth wall break.  

“Clerks 1 and 2, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma ?” 

Peter looked both amused and confused.  

“No, I don’t know any of those.” he shook his head. 

Wade nodded,  

“As well you wouldn’t.” he wasn’t going to clarify what he meant by that, even though Peter frowned questioningly, “I mean, they’re pretty shitty movies, but in that way where everyone has to have at least seen them once and have laughed at how ridiculous they are.” 

“Is it, like, a buddy comedy? I’m not a big fan of buddy comedies.” Wade was pretty sure Jay and Silent Bob didn’t qualify in that a category, “I prefer science fiction.” 

“That’s because you’re an adorable, big brained, smarty, nerdy pants.” he said it with all the affection he could muster and Peter smiled. That smile…Wade was falling for it. Hard. 

Peter was about to say something and Wade was half smiling just waiting to watch his pretty mouth form more words, but then his cell phone rang.  

Wade hadn’t yet had a chance to choose a funny personalized ringtone yet, so he had no idea it was Weasel until he fished his new phone out of his jeans pocket and saw the word WEASEL lighting up his screen. Wade cut the call. 

“You can take the call if you want.” Peter offered, his brow a little furrowed as he looked down at Wade’s phone, now with a black screen. 

“I don’t want.” Wade said lightly, really not wanting to talk to Weasel. Almost ever, but especially not right then. 

“Okay...soooo, who’s Weasel?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely curious and even a little contemplative. 

Wade thought about lying, but since Peter already knew he was a merc, there really wasn’t any point in not being honest about it, 

“Handler. He finds me jobs.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Peter said without any inflection, and then more animated, “Hey, I should give you my number again.” as he dropped the remote control aside and leaned forward to grab his cell phone off the table. Wade watched him unlock it with his thumbprint before he held it out to Wade. So casually, so easy and trusting. 

“Yeah, definitely.” Wade agreed without hesitation, using a code to unlock his own phone before handing it to Peter.   

The first thing he saw was Peter’s wallpaper. It was a photo of day time New York city from the top of a very high place, taken at an angle that could not be achieved even from the rooftop of a high building. Peter had probably taken this at some point when on patrol as Spider-Man, 

“Cool picture.” he commented, “You took it right?” he asked as he tapped his way into Peter’s contacts to add his own. 

“Yeah. Thanks. I did.” Peter smirked, “I’ve actually been thinking about buying a camera, maybe trying out some photography.” he said, sounding enthusiastic about it, “To give myself something to do besides Spider-Man stuff and biochem assignments.” he was already typing his name into Wade’s phone, the number filled in.  

Wade was done too, but he held on to the phone a bit longer, eventually exiting back to the home screen to look at the photo again. It was a good picture, and he was about to encourage Peter -because he deserved lots of encouragement-, but then Wade heard his phone chime again, an incoming message.  

His phone was still in Peter’s hand and Peter was looking at the message pop up. Wade expected it was probably Weasel, and he hoped the dumbass hadn’t texted anything obnoxious. 

“Weasel?” he asked, not reaching for his phone or snatching it away like his instincts were screaming at him to do. Peter nodded, 

“Yeah.” he looked up from the phone, looked right into Wade’s masked eyes. 

“What does it say?” Wade tried not to grind his teeth, or crush Peter’s phone in his hand by accident. 

Peter seemed surprised Wade asked him, maybe he was surprised Wade didn’t just take his phone back, 

“I, uh, I think he needs help.” he frowned a bit and then held the phone out for Wade to take. 

Wade groaned and took it, absently handing Peter’s phone back to him as he tapped into Weasel’s message to open it properly. It read; 

‘ Can you advance me some cash I   

need money 4 the laundromat bcos   

theres an evil empire ecosystem   

growing in my hamper ’   

Wade wanted to throw his phone across the lounge. Somehow, Weasel asking him for money to do his laundry was more frustrating than if the man had asked him for money for a prostitute or a drug binge. And Wade knew why, it was because guilt was niggling in his gut for how little he paid Weasel, for how shitty he treated him. He didn’t know whether or not it was a bad thing that his conscience was reawakening, but either way, the twinge of guilt had him opening Venmo…and then closing the app again.  

Wade went all the way and opened up his banking app instead.  

By the time he was done sending Weasel money, with a few very complimentary zeroes tacked on to the amount, he felt marginally better. Which made him angry. So, he went back to the message Weasel sent and replied with; 

Buy a fcking washing   

machine u fking nutsak   

Peter huffed a laugh and Wade turned his head abruptly to find Peter’s face very close to his, in fact, the whole of Peter was very, very close to him. Much closer than before. As if being close to Wade and his gross skin, even without intimate contact, was just so easy for Peter, so voluntary. He was actually close enough that Wade, in the natural light of day, could see the faintest dusting of freckles on the younger super’s face, and he couldn’t help glancing at Peter’s mouth when he said, 

“Did you just send him $10 000 to buy a washing machine?”  

Wade felt his stomach twist, he didn’t even know why. He was pissed off about feeling bad about Weasel but he felt better about helping Weasel and Peter sounded amused and surprised, but in a good way, like he thought what Wade had just done was…good? 

“He had a bonus due anyway after helping me on the last job.” he lied, Weasel hadn’t helped at all. “He’s a moron, but he’s also really smart and good at his job.” which was true, Weasel was really smart when it came to certain things, and he knew the jobs Wade preferred, knew the extent to which marks needed to be vetted, he knew how to handle Wade’s working criteria.  

They’d worked together for so many years before the blip. They’d been friends. Fuck.  

Wade locked his phone and just barely remembered not to toss it aside, instead just dropping it on to the couch beside him. Not tossing it around was going to take some getting used to. 

Peter was nodding and kind of absently staring at him, and Wade was so self-conscious of the exposed part of his face he was having trouble not reaching up to pull his mask down. Peter was just kind of looking at him while his mind seemed to be on something else, and at such close proximity, it was stressing Wade out.  

“$100 for your thoughts?” Wade asked, just to break the silence and interrupt the staring, before he pulled out the fold of cash he’d carried on him, holding it up. He glanced at it then, and changed the offer according to the amount he actually had, “Or $5 000?” 

Peter gawped at the money and then gave Wade a ‘what the hell’ look, 

“Are you seriously just walking around with $5000 in your pocket?” it was a rhetorical question though, since Peter didn’t wait for an answer as he pushed Wade’s hand down, wordlessly telling him to put the money away, “I was just thinking about how I want to know more about you.” he answered the initial request to know what he was thinking, and so frankly too.  

Wade dropped the money on the couch, just like the phone, not really caring about it. He cared more about the fact that Peter was sitting so close, close enough that his knee was partially resting on Wade’s thigh and their shoulders were touching. And he cared that Peter wanted to actually know about him, and if he wanted to do better and be better for Peter, he had to try more honesty and less avoidance. 

“I can’t promise you’ll like the answers, Baby Boy,” he said truthfully, “but I’ll try my best to answer any questions you have.” 

Peter smiled, 

“That’s good enough. I can also answer any questions you have.” 

“What kind of underwear do you have on?” Wade didn’t miss a beat, and his heartbeat skipped when Peter started laughing, that beautiful smile on full display, just before he dropped his head and laughed it out on Wade’s shoulder.  

Wade felt a little light headed.  

Peter lifted his head again once his laughter settled and he cleared his throat,  

“Just boxer shorts, uh,” he actually answered , and very adorably lifted his T just enough to show his hip and the hem line of his shorts where they peeked out from inside his jeans, “navy blue and white boxer shorts.” 

“Sexy.” Wade said, mostly teasing but honestly, he really wanted to see Peter in nothing but those boxer shorts…and then in just nothing at all. 

Peter huffed out another laugh and shook his head, 

“Okay, so, my turn. 

“Hm hm.” Wade pursed his lips, bracing himself. 

“So, like…have you ever been married, or do you have kids?”   

Wow, he really went for it with that start. Heavy questions, but Wade supposed fair questions too, considering their age gap.  

“No, to the first question, and I fucking hope not, to the second.” he answered honestly. 

Peter made his cute little perplexed face, where he looked confused and concerned at the same time, 

“You don’t know if you have kids?” 

Wade cocked a skeptical eyebrow, his mask expressing it, 

“I mean, there was some teenage sex, and then there was special forces for ten years, with significantly less sex, then there was post-dishonorable discharge slash mercenary life, where there was a lot of sex, then…” he had to trail off, because he just didn’t want to mention Vanessa, he wasn’t ready to talk about that, “And then there hasn’t been any sex for several years.” he sighed, “And I have yet to be approached by any baby daddy claimants despite being well known, so I’m gonna’ say it’s probably a ‘no’ to the having kids thing.”  

Peter stared at him, Wade stared back, and then he heard Peter swallow, 

“A lot of sex. Like, how much is a lot?” 

Wade tilted his head, feeling a bit unsure of how to not make himself sound like a man-slut, 

“Don’t have a specific figure.” he really had no idea, he’d been good looking and single and not particularly concerned with his health and safety, but maybe Peter was! “I can promise you though, my mutation gave me a clean slate, you can’t catch anything from me.” and yeah, that was a very unattractive thing to say, but being upfront about sexual health with a partner was important…or something like that. There’d been brochures about that shit at some point in his life. 

Peter nodded, although he looked a little owl eyed, 

“Uh, okay, g-good, uh, good to know.” he shifted a bit on the couch, their shoulders rubbing together, his knee pressing more into Wade’s thigh, “So, you haven’t had sex since your mutation?”  

Ah, well, it seemed like mentioning Vanessa in some capacity was going to be necessary. He hesitated just long enough for Peter to guess the answer. He didn’t say it, but Wade could see it on his face, that he’d figured the answer out. He knew Peter was probably thinking he’d paid for it, which wouldn’t be far off because after Vanessa died, before the blip, there had been a few attempts with sex workers. 

Awful attempts, but sex had happened with varying degrees of what could not entirely be called success. 

“Uh…” Wade’s phone rang again, he ignored it, chose his words carefully, “there was a relationship I had started before the mutation, which continued for a while after the mutation.” he’d reached for the phone while talking and cut the call without looking, dropping the phone back onto the sofa. 

“Oh.” Peter said lightly, but he looked like he was thinking about something Wade had no way of guessing at, so he asked, 

“What about you?” 

Peter blinked, and then frowned and shook his head, 

“Uh, one relationship only, ever, just the one…the one girl. A serious relationship. We stayed together for a few years.” he mumbled most of his answer. Wade wasn’t surprised to hear that, Peter was still really young, and between being Spider-Man and the blip, finding time to be with someone probably wasn’t easy or convenient. He remembered the photo of the girl on Peter’s wall above his desk. Just the one girl...whose photo he still kept.  

Wade didn’t think asking for any details was a good idea, and Peter hadn’t asked for any either, so instead he asked an entirely different question, 

“So, why chick to dick?” and Peter’s slight gloom lifted instantly as he regarded Wade with that look that really said he had no idea how Wade could say the things he did. Wade was unfazed by that look, “Was it always on the cards or are you just curious?”  

Peter did a sort of pouty, frown thing, glancing at the TV and then back at Wade, 

“I dunno’.” 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Wade teased him. Peter shot him a more withering look, but Wade was loving the blush slowly reddening the tips of his ears, so he just had to carry on, “Just admit it, baby, you took one look at these guns,” he raised one arm and flexed his bicep slightly, and even through his two layers, the muscle was prominent, stretching the material, “and you decided you wanted the D.”  

Peter promptly whacked him in the face with a couch cushion which Wade did not see coming.  

Wade cackled, leaning to the side of the couch away from Peter, holding onto the cushion Peter had hit him with. And for the first time in ages, he was all-out laughing while saying, 

“D stands for Deadpool, I swear, Baby Boy!”  

Peter was smiling while shaking his head, his expression a little mischievous,  

“You think you’re funny, huh?” he said with a cocked eyebrow. 

Wade was still smiling, for a moment forgetting about the skin around his mouth, on his face and neck, all still visible, 

“Sorry, Pete, it’s just so cute when you blush.” he wiped a fake tear from his masked eye, still grinning.  

“Weeell,” Peter had the same mischievous look on his face as he sat facing forward. His legs were still bent up and he put his hands behind his head before he added, “you’re not entirely wrong.” Wade just stared, smile lingering, masked eyes a little wider with disbelief as he listened, “I did tell you you’re the only guy I’ve ever been interested in. Aaaand, it did have something to do with how cool your suit is, and how you look in it.” he was smiling a little lopsided, looking ahead at the TV. Wade’s smile slowly turned into a smirk, “Aaaand it maybe, definitely had something to do with how it felt when you hel-, uh,” a less confident voice break, his entire neck was red now, “held me on that rooftop in the Bronx. It was-” 

“Peter.” Wade said, voice giving away how much he liked what he was hearing. 

“Yeah?” Peter asked, tone a little high pitched, and face red but his expression still playful. 

“I think something just came up.” Wade said it confidently, but in reality, he was still a bit unsure of whether his come ons should stay as just jokes, or if Peter would mind if he actually followed through.  

Fuck, he really wanted to follow through.  

Peter stayed in the same position, but he let his eyes drop to Wade’s crotch where Wade knew the outline of his half hard cock was almost definitely visible. Peter lowered his arms then before he looked at Wade’s face, 

“Hmm, I’m not so sure it’s serious enough for Spider-Man to get involved.” he was trying not to smile. 

Wade gasped and then he shifted to sit up properly, tossing the cushion aside as he faced Peter, getting closer, his arm stretching across the back of the couch behind the younger super, 

“If I keep getting blue balls, Baby Boy, my penis is going to become an Avengers level threat…” Wade trailed off, because Peter started laughing, legs still bent up and his arms wrapping loosely around his shins, head dipped as he laughed against his knee.  

Wade sighed out a pleased sound and Peter turned his head to look at him, forehead on his knee, 

“Fuck, I love your smile.” Wade said, voice dripping with sincerity. And then Peter’s look became so fond Wade felt like he was melting, right before Peter sat up and leaned sideways, balancing a hand on Wade’s inner thigh, and then the younger super was kissing him with that smile and saying, 

“I love your smile too.”  

Wade forgot how to breathe for a moment, because Peter hadn’t hesitated to kiss him, and then he was kissing him again. And Peter also didn’t hesitate to bring his hands up to touch his gross face, didn’t hesitate to part his lips wide, allowing Wade to tongue languidly and deeply into his perfect mouth. Wade took full advantage of Peter offering his mouth up, sucking on his tongue and making sure to bruise those pretty lips just a little as he kissed him. And when Wade finally remembered to take a breath, it was because Peter’s shaken breath ghosted over his face through his nose and he made this sexy, soft noise against Wade’s lips. Wade could only kiss him again in response, more aggressively, relishing the taste and heat of the younger super’s pliant mouth.  

In moments like that, with Peter so receptive to him, Wade could almost forget how fucking hideous he was, because Peter made him feel like he wasn’t. Peter’s hands sliding down from his face, over his throat , to fist the collar of his coat and hoodie. Peter tilting his head to accommodate how Wade wanted to kiss him, Peter allowing Wade to lean in, to slowly push him down onto his back on the couch. 

Fuck. Maybe Peter was pulling him down, Wade was so focused on the kiss he wasn’t even sure.  

When Peter unfolded his legs, flattened them, so Wade could stretch out and settle above him and the breathy sound Peter made when their mouths briefly separated, it was addictive. Wade took a moment to look down at him, the younger super’s expression was turned on, albeit a little nervous, and his skin was so flushed, their legs tangling slowly as they got comfortable, with Wade holding his weight up over Peter on the couch, just shy of properly lying on top of him.  

Wade was so hard in his jeans it was ridiculous. Being horizontal, having Peter underneath him, it was a whole new level of hot.  

And Peter’s face, that nervous-eager expression, he wondered if Peter had had a similar expression on his face that night on top of iHop. But...maybe it had been even more nervous? Wade hadn’t been able to see it. He didn’t want Peter feeling uncomfortab- 

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, hair messy against the plain grey of the sofa seat, his eyes half lidded, gaze heated, yet still exuding a certain amount of innocence. While he wasn’t as innocent as he’d been all those years ago on Coney Island, he was still innocent, far more innocent than Wade had been at his age. And here Wade was, touching him with his dirty hands. 

“Wade?” 

“Pete, you gotta’ tell me if I go too fa-hmm.” Peter pulled him down, hands back on the sides of his bare neck, and kissed him soundly, and then against his lips he said, 

“I’ll tell you.” 

“Or you can just kick me across the room.” 

“Or you could shut up and keep kissing me.” 

“Or I could shut up and keep-hm…”  

Peter had pulled him down again, with that sexy super strength, kissing him, tonguing into his mouth boldly and Wade slowly relaxed and settled some of his weight on top of the smaller super as he kissed him back. He felt light headed again and extremely turned on, his dick somehow getting harder. But he knew he had to keep it in his pants, because for all Peter was kissing him enthusiastically and tugging him down and parting his legs and pressing his body, his hips, up against Wade…fuuuuck…despite all of that, Wade could feel the tremble running through the younger man.  

Not an occasional one, a consistent one.  

Wade knew Peter had never done anything with a man before himself, and that was a lot of responsibility that he definitely, probably, most likely could not handle, but he was going to do his Maximum Effort® best to try to. But if Peter just wanted to kiss, Wade could…well, he could try not to lose his mind. He would also try to be more mindful of his hands, his touch, now that he could see Peter’s face and could see the nuances in his expression, he didn’t want to touch Peter in any way that was too much or too fast. So, balanced on one forearm, he kept his free hand pressed into the sofa next to Peter’s side.  

If Peter was feeling scared though, it wasn’t the scared where he wanted to stop, it was the kind of scared that came with the excitement of trying something new and unknown, enjoying it but being a little overwhelmed by it. Because he was absolutely hard inside his jeans where he was absently rolling his hips up against Wade in between every other kiss, and his hands were getting braver, shifting off Wade’s neck, over his clothes and around to his shoulders, then down between his shoulder blades-  

“What-hm, colour aremh your eyes?” Peter asked breathily between kisses. 

Wade felt a shock of ache rush through him, that Peter had to ask because of the mask, so he answered without hesitating, 

“Brown, most ofhm, the timemh.” 

Peter made a questioning noise and Wade pulled back from the kiss with a soft smack, looked down at him with a head tilt, 

“You really want me to explain it now?” he asked on a breath. 

Peter thought about it for a single second before he shook his head, 

“Nope.” and pulled Wade back down into an aggressive kiss of his own. So hot, mouth wide, tongue filled, hands firmly sliding over Wade’s shoulder blades and back up to touch his neck and jaw again, like Wade’s skin really, really didn’t faze him. Wade could not get his head around it.  

He groaned as he kissed Peter back, matching his enthusiasm as his own completely fucked up gamut of emotions got the better of him and he finally let himself grind down into the V of Peter’s parted legs. 

Peter’s breath hitched, his partially spread legs tensing against Wade’s thighs as he arched up into the motion. Wade ravished his mouth then, sucked on his tongue, kissed him hard, hungrily enough to press his head back into the sofa, which drew a moan from Peter, who dug his blunt nails into the skin of Wade’s neck. And it hurt a little, but Wade gave no fucks about it as they started to earnestly grind into one another while they kissed, dry humping slowly and so fucking good and fuck, it was so hot.  

The sofa wasn’t actually long enough to accommodate Wade’s height, but with one knee pressed into the cushioning and his other leg slightly bent with his foot on the floor, he had good enough leverage to work his hips against Peter’s. And Peter was really into it, his legs slowly spreading more, drawing up, and it was making Wade crazy. The younger super was using him as leverage, one leg hooked over his hip and the other over the back of his thigh and Peter was so lithe and flexible and his whole body moved so well against Wade’s.  

Definitely not so innocent anymore. Or maybe he didn’t even know how fucking sexy he could be!  

And despite his best efforts, Wade’s hand had strayed. It was currently sliding down and feeling up the side of Peter’s denim clad thigh hooked over his hip, while Peter’s one hand had slid up to the top of his mask, blunt nails scraping over the spandex just when Peter broke off the kiss, leaning his head back and taking in a breath before asking, 

“Your hair colour?” on a heavy exhale, voice pitching, his tone so obviously aroused. 

Wade immediately went to kissing and sucking softly on his neck, 

“No hair.” he grunted out, licking up to nip on Peter’s earlobe, his traitorous hand now sliding down the inside of Peter’s thigh, pushing his leg a little wider open, hips grinding down just right so both of them felt some friction right against each other through their clothes. 

“Hff-fah-…” Peter half breathed, half moaned an almost curse, then “…thah-t, makes sense.” It did? Wade made a questioning noise against Peter’s adams apple and Peter sounded breathily amused when he answered, “Shampoo…wasted on you.”  

Wade snorted, and Peter huffed a laugh, maybe because it tickled his neck.  

Wade’s hand continued on its wayward path, and when he slid it between them to cup and put some pressure on Peter’s cock through his jeans, the noise Peter made and the way he pushed himself up into the touch really tested Wade’s restraint. Wade had to know, 

“Pete, how many bases do I get, here?” because he wanted to touch . 

For some reason Peter sounded amused, but also rather sexy, a teasing lilt in his voice when he said, 

“If you lose the gloves, you can go to third.”  

Fuck.    

Wade did a very quick tally of the pros and cons of that and said, 

“Fuck it.” before he pushed himself up to kneel between Peter’s spread legs, almost forgetting how to form words when he looked down at the sight of Peter lying there, halfway sexed up, T shirt riding up a little, showing off a hint of abs. And further up, faint kiss bruises on his neck from Wade’s very recent sucking were still visible for the moment. Wade could only say, “Okay, Baby Boy, no gloves it is.” voice strained with arousal. There was no other acceptable response. 

“Maybe the coat, too.” Peter coyly bargained, “You got on a lot of layers. Kinda’ sucks.” his eyebrow hiked up slightly, lips red and swollen, smirking just a bit. Fucking shitfuck! The worst and best part was that Peter didn’t seem like he was really trying to be cute and sexy, he just was .  

Wade had to pause at that second request though, one glove half off already as he stared down at Peter, because the coat was his layer specifically worn to make access to, and visibility of, his skin difficult. Was he willing to ditch that layer? Peter had made it sound optional.   

Peter must have noticed or sensed his hesitation, because he considerately suggested, 

“I’ll stay on second base, okay, just lose the coat.” 

Jesus Christ, he was perfect, and Wade couldn’t say no to him, not when he was patient and accepting even when he really didn’t have to be. So, nodding very agreeably, he went ahead and pulled his gloves off, tossed them aside, exposing his hands, before roughly shrugging off his coat and tossing it somewhere to the side as well. And then he was kneeling between Peter’s legs in just jeans and a hoodie, a thin hoodie that would easily ride up an-…  

“Finally.” Peter said, with seemingly genuine interest, raking his eyes over Wade’s form, “Even though the suit is so tight, seeing you in normal clothes like this, it’s somehow really just, uh, like, really hot.” he reached forward, fingertips grazing the tensed, hard muscle of Wade’s thigh. 

“I know exactly what you mean.” Wade made a point to look over Peter’s disheveled appearance. 

Peter grinned and then pursed his lips before smiling a little and asking quietly, 

“So, uh, weren’t you about to go for third base.” in a teasing voice as he reached his hand up higher, abs tensing when he lifted his torso so he could fist the mid-section of Wade’s hoodie and tug him forward. 

“Fuck.” Wade breathed out and moved with Peter’s hand to lie back down over the younger super, to start kissing him again.  

They kissed for a few minutes, the sexual tension and arousal between them gradually becoming more and more heated again, and when Wade felt Peter spread his legs a little wider, the younger super’s fingers clenching fistfuls of his hoodie against his sides, Wade stopped waiting and did indeed go for third base. He adjusted his balance and slid his hand back down between them slowly, first over Peter’s rising and falling abdomen, his rough fingertips skimming over the soft exposed skin of Peter’s stomach, then he felt the denim waistline of his jeans and a bit lower, Wade easily popped the button open and drew down the zipper just enough. And as he slid his bare hand under the elastic of Peter’s jeans and boxer shorts, the zipper sliding down the rest of the way itself, Peter’s breath got a bit stuck and he shifted his lower half to accommodate Wade’s touch.  

Wade’s touch, which was his hideous hand encircling Peter’s heat dampened, slightly sticky sex.   

Peter moaned quietly, and a little strained, into his mouth, his next breath shuddering in through his nose and then out of his mouth. He didn’t flinch away from the feeling of Wade’s hand at all though. And it was surprising, but in a really good way, a way that made Wade’s chest ache. His own breathing was deep and fast by that point, being able to touch Peter intimately was making him feel all kinds of desire and impatience, and he was so hard in his own jeans it was painful, but , he was determined not to focus on himself.  

So, he put his feelings of desire into the kiss instead, kissing Peter more roughly, dominating his mouth as he started to jerk him off with a sure touch, the buildup of sweat and pre-come already making for a decent slide inside his rough palm. With the direct stimulation to his cock, the sounds Peter made became a bit louder and more expressive and his hips began to erratically twitch into Wade’s touch on every other upstroke, his fingers intermittently flexing tautly where they still clenched Wade’s hoodie, and his breathing was accelerating.  

Wade wasn’t trying to drag it out though, because he wanted to make Peter feel good, and he wanted to see his face when he came, so he tugged and stroked and rubbed and twisted all with the intention of making Peter come hard and fast. Very soon Peter was on the edge, barely kissing back, mouth slack for the most part, eyes opening and closing, brow furrowing as Wade steadily masturbated him. He left off from the kiss then, adding to the sensations by kissing Peter’s neck and his jaw and licking into the hollow of his throat, keeping his hand working at a slightly alternating pressure and pace.  

He hadn’t touched someone sexually in years, and the feeling of Peter, hot and smooth and getting wetter, the younger man’s circumcised length tackily sliding inside the tight channel of his hand, was making his fingertips tingle. The physical contact itself was making all of his raw, tortured nerves sing with a good sensation for the first time in ages and Wade was getting frustratingly emotional about it.  

He actually forgot all about his own arousal as he lost himself in touching Peter, in kissing his sweet, smooth skin, in listening to Peter’s moans become shorter and pitchier the closer he came to orgasm. Wade also heard his name in a few of Peter’s breathy, shaken moans as his orgasm approached, and it was as unbelievable as it was fantastic.  

 The younger super’s hands were clenched tightly in the material of Wade’s hoodie and his legs around Wade had relaxed further, probably unconsciously, to allow Wade more room to move his hand. But he knew immediately that Peter was right on the verge when the younger super cursed the F word and became much tenser, back arching just before he let out a short high sound. Wade quickly drew back so he could look down into Peter’s face, speeding up his stroking right on time, just when Peter was coming. His one hand immediately released Wade’s hoodie to reach above him, where it clenched white knuckled into the sofa cushion there, the squelching of Wade’s strokes becoming louder and louder as hot ejaculate spread over and onto his hand and between his fingers with each milking pump.   

Peter was fully blissed out, his head thumping back into the seat, eyes screwed shut and his lovely red, wet mouth was hanging open as a breathy sound left his throat. He was pressing up into Wade, his hips twitching into the milking strokes, and all the while Peter’s orgasm moved through him, his facial expression was gorgeously honest in his pleasure. And his moans were so lovely, high and panted and barely audible, even a little broken in fact, like his voice couldn’t make it out of him.  

Wade’s eyes were wet underneath his mask.  

He didn’t even want to blink. His emotions were all dialed up to one hundred. 

Peter was gorgeous, Peter felt so good, Peter felt so unreal, and then Peter said, 

“Wade.” in an exhausted, breathless, almost keening tone, just before bringing his hand down from above his head and using it to pull Wade down, closer, so they could kiss. 

Peter was still catching his breath even as they kissed, still trembling -although much less- and panting in between every other lip lock, his eyes barely staying open and his mouth still going a bit slack a few times. But he clearly wanted to kiss, and of course Wade wanted to kiss him. So, as he gently withdrew his hand from inside Peter’s jeans, making a loose fist to contain the mess, he kissed Peter's mouth softly and sensually, waiting it out as Peter came down from his orgasm.  

It was a few minutes of that, of Wade soaking up Peter’s afterglow, before Peter smiled, all toothy and adorable, his lips still against Wade’s own. And Wade was helpless, he could only return the smile, though in a more reserved way, his emotions still upended, eyes still damp. His entire body was thrumming with an excess of feelings and energy, a mixture of good, and confusing and afraid. He felt paranoid and uncertain of how good he was feeling, of how good Peter seemed to be feeling, and his weight was still mostly on top of Peter, although he was a bit tense and partially holding himself up, but he pulled away just enough to look down earnestly at Peter and ask, 

“You okay?” voice quiet. He felt the need to know whether Peter was really and truly alright with what Wade had just done to him...or maybe, for him, or with him? Together? 

Peter was nodding, 

“M’great.” and he grinned, small and seemingly entirely content.  

Wade felt a hundred different things for Peter, all good and all intense, and it was a little maddeni-

Without warning, Peter’s hand slipped off his shoulder and moved down between them, heading right for his crotch. But Wade quickly rebalanced himself and he caught Peter lightly by the wrist with his clean hand, 

“Nahnananana, Pete,” awkward laugh, “I’m good.” 

Peter’s gorgeously relaxed features scrunched up into a small frown, 

“But you didn-” 

“It’s fine, I’m fine, Baby Boy,” and he was, his dick was still hard, but Wade felt totally gratified. Maybe his soul had had an orgasm or something. No matter what though, he was keeping it in his pants. So, he brought Peter’s hand back up from the no-go zone, “I’m going to relive this moment later.” that was definitely true, “You just gave me Hall of Fame level spank bank material.” 

Peter managed to maintain a small smile, but he was a bit more somber, disappointed even, although he still tried to be understanding when he asked, 

“Was it too much today, the mask, your hands?” moving his hand so instead of Wade holding his wrist, their palms were pressed together, Peter’s smaller, unblemished fair hand starkly contrasting Wade’s twisted, dis-coloured skin as he intercrossed their fingers, “You have nice hands.” 

“Pfft.” Wade’s reaction was genuine, but so were Peter’s next words, 

“I’m not talking about your skin, Wade. I’m talking about your hands .” he closed his fingers so they were pressed over Wade’s knuckles, “Your hands look strong, they are strong…my hands look soft.” he sighed, “I, I don’t really know how to describe it.” he sounded sleepy and he was totally relaxed beneath Wade. 

Wade just wanted to stare at him and listen to him talk and be sleepy. It was creepy but true. 

“Your hands look young, sweetums, not soft.” 

It was Peter’s turn to make an amused sound, 

“So, your hands look old?” 

“Well, I am old.” 

“Your body is 39, right? That’s not old.” 

“Okay, I’m older than you, my hands, and my lifestyle , reflect that.”  

Peter was quiet for a moment then, quite content to shift and flex his fingers and hand against Wade’s, and then he asked, 

“You mentioned earlier you were in special forces for ten years?” 

“Yep.” Wade closed his own fingers over Peter’s knuckles, noting the clear size difference. 

“Dishonorable discharge?” 

“I didn’t like the way they did things.” he answered lightly. 

Peter nodded sleepily, drawing a leg up lazily to lean against the back of the couch, not showing any discomfort about Wade still lying on top of him and between his legs. 

“Do you have tattoos?” he asked, literally out of nowhere. 

Wade was surprised by the random question, 

“I, uh, I did. Healing factor got rid of em’ though.” he cocked an eyebrow, “Random question much?” 

Peter shrugged, as much as possible while lying down, 

“You seem like the kind of guy who would have tattoos.” 

Wade raised cocked his brow, 

“Well, I had a few, but I wasn’t exactly Dave Navarro.” 

Peter made that cute confused face, 

“Who?” 

Wade half wheezed, half sighed, 

“Uh, let me try again, maybe, uh, Travis Barker?” 

“That sounds familiar.” 

Another wheeze, 

“Fuck, you’re so young.” 

Peter rolled his sleepy eyes, 

“Oh, shut up about that, just update your references.” he smiled…and then started to yawn and disentangled their hands as he brought both hands to his mouth to hide it.  

Wade, who was disgustingly charmed and getting sweeter and sweeter on Peter by the moment, finally shifted so he was up on his knees, and then he moved to stand up, 

“You’re gonna’ do Spidey patrol later, huh?” Peter had finished yawning, hands still covering the lower half of his face as he nodded up at Wade while drawing his legs closed, “You should take a nap then, Baby Boy, get some rest so you can safely dodge bullets and other superhero shit.” 

Wade watched as Peter stretched, moved his hands up to push them into his hair, 

“I don’t dodge bullets,” he said as he stretched, “I just know when someone is going to shoot at me, so I get out of the way in time.” 

Huh, interesting, 

“That spider sense of yours is pretty bad ass.” Wade commented, gaze lingering on Peter’s body, the skin still visible between his hiked-up T and open jeans looking so kissable. He not so subtly adjusted his slowly softening erection inside his jeans and Peter watched him do so, as he answered distractedly, 

“Sure is, when it works.”  

But his nonchalant answer made Wade worry. If the spider sense thing wasn’t always functional, then wasn’t Peter at risk of being shot?? He was about to ask about it, but Peter spoke first, 

“You want to come with me later?” and he sounded hopeful.  

Shit.  

Wade hated to let him down, but, 

“Sorry, boo, no can do.” he tried to keep it light, “I got a job lined up, starting tomorrow…uh, it’s probably gonna’ take me most of the week.” he said honestly, hoping Peter wasn’t about to be mad. 

Peter pushed himself to sit up then, not fastening his jeans and instead just drawing his legs up and hooking his arms around them, 

“Is it out of the country?” he asked reasonably . 

“Um, nope.” Wade really didn’t want to talk about his mercenary work though, no matter how reasonable Peter was about it. And not because Peter was Spider-Man, or at least not entirely, it was for other reasons. He hadn’t even ever talked about it much with Vanessa. He liked to keep work and personal shit as separate as possible. 

Peter seemed to catch on fast though, to the lack of elaboration, and he changed the subject easily, 

“Well, you’ve got my number again, so maybe, uh, keep in touch when you can.” 

Wade, still unable to believe Peter was so incredible and understanding, just nodded,  

“Yeah, gonna’ make the extra effort, baby. I won’t even use it as a weapon, I swear.” because if you threw a phone hard enough at a fucker, it could concuss them just right, but he wasn’t going to ever do that again. He made a scout’s honour sign with his come messed hand, and when Peter noticed the mess, he blushed and pressed his forehead against his knees, but he was half smiling when he said,  

“The bathroom is in my bedroom.”  

Wade glanced at his hand, and then nodded, even though Peter couldn’t see it. And because Peter wasn’t looking, he quickly snatched up his gloves from where they’d landed on the food cluttered coffee table, before turning and leaving the room to go to the bathroom.  

Once Wade left the room, Peter peeked over his knees and stared at the bedroom door as he pursed his lips, taking in a deep breath and then letting it out to keep calm, and hopefully cool his face down.  

He was kind of all over the place in his head. 

He’d just gotten a hand job from Wade...and it had been amazing. Like, he was still feeling the touch and thinking about it, his dick not completely soft. And maybe it was just because it’d been so long without someone else touching him, but Peter didn’t think he’d ever come so…intensely. The way Wade touched him, kissed him, handled him, made him feel so much, just, all over...holy wow. He pressed his face against his knees again and cursed softly.  

Unfortunately though, there was also guilt, which presently, sitting curled up with stickiness drying in his pants and sweat drying down his spine, he was reminded of. He was thinking of how Wade hadn’t wanted to be touched in return, and it made him wonder how Wade was feeling about what they’d done. Objectively, Peter could safely assume Wade had enjoyed it too, but…maybe he’d also been uncomfortable to some degree?  

Peter had been kind of a bastard to say the thing about Wade taking off his gloves. That had been shitty move, right? Too sudden, and requested in the heat of the moment, it felt like taking advantage. He was annoyed with himself for his impulsiveness and impatience! But he really did want more, he wanted more of Wade, he wanted to know more and see more of him. And Wade’s skin was not an issue for him, he could admit that confidently to himself. Wade’s hands, while equally scarred, really hadn’t bothered him, just as seeing half of his face hadn’t.   

When he thought about it in the aftermath though, and thinking of it objectively, of what Wade’s skin looked like; partially raw, dis-coloured, patchy and scar-like, he could see why Wade was uncomfortable about his skin being seen or touched. It was bad. And Peter could guess that naked, if he ever got to see Wade naked, it would be a lot to deal with. But not a lot for him, because he didn’t think of it in a bad way, he didn’t think about it and feel trepidation or feel put off. No. It would be bad for Wade, because it would be hard for Wade to believe it didn’t put him off. 

 For Peter, the idea of seeing Wade completely naked, manifested excited nervous anticipation in his chest and stomach, especially since he now knew what Wade’s skin was like, so he could form a more accurate idea in his head. He didn’t find Wade’s skin gross at all. Sure, it wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t disgusting either. What was actually on his mind more when he thought about Wade’s skin, was that it looked like it hurt .   

When he’d been holding Wade’s hand before, feeling it against his own, the skin had looked really raw in some places around his nails and knuckles, and between his thumb and index finger, and all Peter had wondered about was whether Wade felt pain when he touched those less healed areas. He’d wondered and worried about the same when they’d been kissing. He’d try to keep his touch as light as possible, but it wasn’t always easy in the moment, when Wade was touching him the way he did. Peter lost focus too quickly!  

At least though, Wade didn’t appear to feel any pain. Still, it was confusing for Peter. 

‘Maybe I’m overthinking it. He’s pretty straightforward, he’d tell me if it hurt, or, I guess, I hope he would.” Peter thought as he lifted his head and ran a hand through his hair again, sighing and trying to stop overthinking himself into a mood. He focused on his hair instead, noticing it was very lightly damp against his scalp from sweat. Well, that was fine, he’d need to shower anyway. He probably wouldn’t have time for a nap though, because he had to go to the Avengers Mansion before patrol that night, and his wall clock showed it was already after 3 PM.  

Peter needed to collect some information from E.D.I.T.H for his new suit’s security and intelligence systems, and he kept the actual glasses in his room at the headquarters for safety. He had given his different suits limited access to the AI after the Mysterio incident, because he never again wanted it falling into the wrong hands. His limited access was just that though, limited. That was actually the reason why when he’d tried to look up ‘special circumstances’ subjects, he’d been given an error notice, telling him to access the full system. So, maybe he’d also check that out once he got to the headquarters. And he also needed to take that high-tech gun from the other nig-  

Shit!  

“!” Peter threw his legs off the couch and stood up, absently refastening his jeans as he looked at the bedroom door just as Wade came through it, “The gun! Wade, the one from the other night, I forgot abou-” 

“Woah, woah, baby, relax.” Wade said, raising his re-gloved hands, “I’ve still got the gun, it’s at my place with all of my own, it’s fine.” he explained calmly.  

He’d also put his mask back down.  

Peter just let out a heavy breath in response, but it wasn’t relief. He felt so frustrated with himself, 

“Damn it! I can’t still be this stupid about important stuff. I thought I was passed making dumb mistakes like this, getting distracted so eas-…” 

“Hey, Pete, Pete, what the eff, baby.” Wade was saying, walking over to stand in front of him and hold his wrists just as he had done to Wade earlier, gently moving his hands away and down. Peter hadn’t realized he’d been fisting his hands in his hair and clenching them, “It’s my thing to freak out like that, not yours.” Wade said quietly. Peter frowned and shook his head, 

“I forgot something important, Wade. I’ve done this before, made stupid decisions or missed important details because I can’t seem to focus on my respo-…” 

“You literally spend every fucking night focusing on your responsibilities.” Wade cut him off, voice a little firmer, “You’re out there saving peoples asses every day, Pete. You forgot about the stupid high-tech gun? So, what?” Wade made a ‘no problem’ face which was surprisingly clear through his mask, “You didn’t just leave it lying around, you removed it from the scene, took it away from the bad guys, it was disarmed.” Peter just kept frowning, because even if Wade was saying that, it didn’t feel like he’d been focused enough, and he wasn’t even the one who’d disarmed it! “Anyway, I’ll just give it to you the next time I see you, kay’?” Wade let his wrists go then and added, “Maybe the reason you forgot about it was because you secretly wanted me to have it.” he teased.  

It took a tense few seconds for Wade’s words and teasing to work on him, but when Peter considered that maybe he had in fact forgotten about the gun because he’d unconsciously trusted Wade with it, he managed a small strained smile and he huffed a laugh, 

“You can’t have the gun, Wade. I need to take it to the Avengers Mansion where it’ll be safe.” he said, still feeling angry at himself, but glad at least that the gun was safe, “But thanks, for hanging on to it.” he looked into Wade’s masked face and was finally able to feel the disappointment of the mask being in place. “I kind of hate your mask right now.” he admitted with a less than impressed look. 

“Ooh ho ho,” Wade was smiling under the mask, “you wanna’ kiss me again so soon, Baby Boy.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes, 

“You like making fun of me, huh?” he asked playfully, smirking when he added, “You know I can, like, lift a bus, right? Imagine what I could do to you.” he tried to sound threatening, crossing his arms over his chest for effect. Wade though, just tilted his head, squinted his eyes and asked, 
“Is this foreplay?”  

Peter could only blush and drop his arms in defeat, but then Wade put butterflies back in his stomach when he lifted his mask up just enough to lean in and peck Peter on the lips. That made Peter smile like a dork, and he pursed his lips against the dumb smile while Wade tucked his mask back into the front of his hoodie and shirt. 

The moment was broken then, when Wade said, 

“I gotta’ go, Baby Boy.” he informed, and Peter could only nod, 

“Yeah, me too, I have to go to the Avengers Mansion before patrol.” 

“No nap time?” 

“No nap time.” 

“Is that safe?” 

“Oh my god, Wade.” Peter said, feeling amused but also a little offended, “I’ve literally fought bad guys in space , I can handle myself.”  

Wade raised his hands in feigned defense, 

“Okay, okay,” he said as he leaned over to grab his phone off the couch, “but definitely eat something,” he added, turning around to look at Peter again, “and buy a pack of Red Bull’s, too.” he started walking to the bedroom again and Peter just rolled his eyes as he followed. 

“Please stop, you’re worse than my aunt May.” 

They crossed the room and Wade pushed the window up, Peter stopping a few feet away, folding his arms over his chest again, loosely, like a sort of self-hug.  

“We simply care about you, Pete.” Wade said, walking back over to him, and Peter started to groan just when Wade moved in rather smoothly for a hug, which left Peter’s groan being muffled into Wade’s shoulder, “So, eat properly and drink plenty of liquids and take cabs if you don’t feel like swinging.”  

Peter ignored his nagging advice, instead focusing on moving his arms to hug Wade back, smiling, feeling happy, his arms around Wade’s waist and Wade’s arms around his shoulders. And when Wade pulled back and dropped a hand to cop a feel of his butt in the process, Peter made a sound of surprise and fake glared at him, but he was quick, and was already half way out of the window. 

“Have fun kicking names and taking ass,” Peter made a squinty eyed face at him for saying it wrong, “and don’t do anything I would do.” the older super added. And Peter couldn’t help smiling and shaking his head, and then biting his lip to tame his grin again, when Wade said, “Bye babe.” and actually winked with his mask, and then he was gone, jumping to the side where the fire escape was, out of sight.  

Wade was so fun. He liked Wade. Smiling without restraint now that he was alone, and also sighing at the rampant fluttering in his stomach, Peter walked over to the window and pulled it down more than halfway closed. There was so much that had happened, so much to process, up to and including the cold, uncomfortable damp spot smeared around in his shorts.   

It might have just been because it was all so new, but Peter felt like he was definitely going to be thinking about Wade a lot…and missing him.  

He shook his head and ruffled his hair, and then yanked his shirt off, tossing it aside, 

“Focus, focus, Avengers Mansion and then patrol, hmm…” he was wondering if he should clean up a bit first before he left. The Avengers Mansion wasn’t nearly as far away as the compound had been. It was just over in Manhattan. “Okay, clean up first,” he crossed the room to go back to the lounge, “then shower, then Mansion and then patrol.” he narrated his to do list as he started clearing up food containers.  

He was in the kitchen throwing out the empty cartons when he noticed a strange weight in his back pocket. Peter frowned as he tossed the last container out and then reached into his pocket. And he frowned even more, and then in disbelief when he pulled out the fold of cash Wade had flashed at him earlier.  

He'd said it was five thousand dollars! Peter had never held that much cash in his hand before, ever, and the fold seemed oddly thin for so much money. Interesti-! It took a moment before he realized that Wade hadn’t just groped him! He’d put money in his pocket, while telling him to eat and take cabs and stuff. Peter didn’t know whether he should feel annoyed about the money or grateful that Wade wanted to make sure he ate and looked after himself, but what he did know was that he wasn’t going to accept it.   

He pulled open one of the kitchen drawers and tossed the money fold in there, before heading to the lounge to pick his phone up off the table. He was about to text Wade, when he was reminded of the time. 

“Ah crap!” he tabled it; the text and the phone, and proceeded to rush around tidying up, before continuing to rush through taking a shower and suiting up.  

He’d been super embarrassed by the mess in his shorts, mostly because it’d been so much, but no one had seen his embarrassment, so that was some consolation.  

By fourteen minutes to five, Peter was climbing out of his bedroom window and then up the wall of his building, stopping only to push the window closed with his foot, before he was crawling, jumping and swinging off in the direction of Manhattan. 

Peter landed on the roof of 890 Fifth Avenue after a swooping flip, moving right into a jog toward the three-story building’s roof edge, which he quickly crawled over and he crawled down, moving at an angle toward the front door. After one more flip and a short swinging motion from the side of the concrete canopy to land in front of the nearest set of large double doors, he was punching in his 21-digit code, before pulling his mask off for the retinal scan. He was wearing his integrated suit, which was partial nanotech so the mask separated when he needed it to.  

The Avengers Mansion was way smaller than the grounds and buildings of the previous Avengers compound, but as far as Peter had seen in recent years, it served its purpose just fine.  

The door unlocked to admit him, welcoming him as Spider-Man, and Peter slipped inside the large quiet space quickly. He glanced around as he walked further in, 

“Uh, hey, anyone here?” he called out, glancing up ahead to the stairs leading to the second floor on which his room was. When he’d walked across the first floor to the stairs without seeing anyone, Peter headed up, skipping stairs.  

He wasn’t surprised the place was as quiet as a graveyard. So many Avengers were gone, some dead, some missing, but most just left to do other things. It was a mess, May had been more right about the situation than she’d ever know when she’d said the Avengers weren’t so stable these days. But Peter also knew a lot was going on that no one told him about, which didn’t surprise him, they all still considered him a kid after all.  

So, he stayed out of it unless they specifically contacted him to check in. He took care of New York, and he was fine with that responsibility. If they really needed him, he figured they’d seek him out.  

He was fiddling with his mask in his hands as he walked along the second-floor hall in the direction of his room, but as he neared the second-floor common room kitchen he made a quick decision to get something to drink. He’d hadn’t had anything to drink since before he and Wade…uh, well, he was pretty thirsty. His mouth tasted dry and coppery…  

Having seen Wade’s skin, the texture and the coppery taste made so much more sense, and maybe he should have been grossed out, but he wasn’t. But, should he have been? Ever since mutating, Peter’s idea of what was ‘weird’ had changed, and his idea of what was ‘acceptable’ has changed. He’d seen aliens and stuff and he’d heard about mutants whose entire appearances were different from when they were born, and none of it seemed strange to him anymore. Maybe his idea of ‘weird’ was just really flexible?  

Either way, Wade tasting coppery didn’t bother him like maybe one would expect it to.  

The kitchen was empty when he walked in, so he hop-stepped over to the fridge, tossing his mask on the counter, before pulling the door open and, unsurprisingly, he found very little in the way of eating or drinking. There were two containers with labels on them, both read ‘Sam’, and aside from that there was bottled water and a Monster energy drink. Peter hummed, thinking about how angry whoever might be if he drank their Monster, but he hadn’t seen anyone around and it was only like, $2. So, he reached in and grabbed it, popped the tab and started drinking.  

As he stood drinking, he pulled out his cell phone and checked his social media in between large gulps, and it didn’t take him long to drain the can. Which made him think he should take Wade’s advice and buy a pack of Red Bull. He placed the empty can on the counter and reopened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water too, before breaking the seal with a quick twist. He was halfway through that when he realized he needed to pee. That was something else he hadn’t done since before Wade had arrived at his place.

Acknowledging the need to pee made it real , and Peter’s bladder was suddenly close to bursting. He left his phone and the water down on the island counter and rushed out of the kitchen and down the long hall to the first common bathroom.  

He wasn’t long in there, relieving himself and then washing his hands, and then he was hop-stepping back to the kitchen, and because he was readjusting his gloves over his damp skin as he walked in, he didn’t immediately see anyone else inside until he was almost at the counter and he looked up, stopping short on the balls of his feet.  

“Uh, hey, Clint!” Peter said, flashing a smile at the other man. 

Clint was standing by the counter, he’d been looking at the can and bottle and mask and when he saw Peter, well, he didn’t smile, not really, 

“Hey.” was all he said, and Peter couldn’t help noticing how tired he looked. He’d noticed it a while back, and Peter had seen that look on many faces over the years…on the faces of those who survived the blip, but lost people to it. Clint had been one of those, and he had his family back now, but Peter supposed the darkness of those years might never leave those who lived through them…like Wade.  

“I didn’t know anyone was around today.” he commented, awkwardly making small talk.  

Clint remained pretty stoic, shaking his head, 

“Sam asked me to take care of something in New Mexico last week, I just came for a debriefing.” 

“Oh,” Peter felt curious despite himself, “is something go-” he was cut off by his phone ringing on the kitchen counter.  

Both him and Clint looked at it, the screen was face up and WADE W (followed by a skull emoji, poop emoji and then a capital letter L) was flashing on the screen. The ringtone playing however, was completely foreign to Peter. It had a really intense guitar intro. That…yeah, Peter had no idea how Wade had managed to download a song and personalize his caller ID without him noticing, right beside him and so damn fast.  

Peter was still processing the unfamiliar song when Clint, frowning deeply, picked up the phone, looked at it and then turned the screen to face Peter as the call continued on, 

“Is this Deadpool?” Peter felt a shock of surprise shoot down his spine, “This is Deadpool, isn’t it?” Clint sounded sure, “Why is Deadpool calling you, and why is his ringtone ACDC?” 

Chapter Text

I'm high on you when you're home with me...

Peter couldn’t help smiling a little at the last part of Clint’s question, 

“That’s an ACDC song?” he asked, tilting his head and pointing at the phone curiously. He still didn’t actually know that band too well at all, he just knew Tony had liked them and he knew his mentor had liked the one song specifically because Happy had played it a few times, until eventually Peter had asked about it. But Wade had seemed to recognize the song and band the last time the merc had heard his phone ring, and now he’d used a song from them. Did that mean Wade liked them too?  

“You don’t know thi-” Clint cut himself off when the call ended and the song stopped playing, then he paused for an additional second, looking at the phone and then back to Peter, before asking, “Did he put his number in your phone?” he actually sounded a little worried. But then his face changed to confused and suspicious, probably because Peter didn’t look confused or concerned, “Did you let him put his number in your phone?”  

Peter blinked, opened his mouth, tilted his head, closed his mouth and then he just nodded. He wasn’t sure how to navigate the situation. He knew logically that pretty much everyone he knew would have a problem with Deadpool, since he was a mercenary, but he sort of wanted to dodge that conversation for the moment. He was more curious about the fact that Clint seemed to know Wade.  So, he asked, 

“How did you know it was Deadpool?” at the same time as Clint asked, 

“How the hell do you know Deadpool? 

Then, speaking at the same time again, they answered each other, 

“Wade W with those emojis...” 

“We just bumped into one ano…ther...” they both trailed off. But Peter, too curious, asked, “What about the emojis?” because he didn’t quite get what a skull, a poop and an L meant.  

Clink actually sighed, sighed like the question irked him, and he looked like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, 

“The skull is for dead, and then the poo emoji and the L.” he made a gesture that suggested he thought Peter really should have figured it out, “Dead, poo and L. Deadpool.” he raised a ‘duh’ eyebrow at Peter.  

“Aaah.” yeah, it dawned on Peter then, who for all of his intelligence had not taken a moment to really think of why Wade used those emojis. 

“Peter,” Clint said his name a bit firmly, “why are you familiar with Deadpool, do you know who he is?” the older man asked quite seriously. 

Just then, Peter’s phone buzzed in Clint’s hand, and before Clint could look at the message pop up, Peter quickly shot out a thin line of web and snatched the phone out of the older man’s hand, catching it easily in his own before shaking the web off, where it fell to the floor. It would disintegrate eventually anyway. 

“Uh, yeah, I know who he is.” he answered Clint, with a, not so sincere, apologetic smile for blatantly taking his phone back before Clint could see the message. 

Clint was back to stoic, 

“He’s a mercenary, Peter.” 

Peter glanced to the side and then back to Clint, and he nodded twice slowly, 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“He kills people for money.” Clint’s eyes narrowed. 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded again, “I know what a mercenary does.”  

A pause, then, 

“He’s a ruthless, crazy, unpredictable, unconscionable contract killer.” 

Peter blinked, brow rising a little at how Clint enunciated every adjective he’d decided to slap on. And, being purposely dismissive, he answered, 

“So I’ve heard.” and then, with a curious frown, “Uh, how do you know him?” he gestured at Clint. 

Clint’s eyes remained narrowed, and his jaw was clenched now too. He was probably not impressed with Peter’s lack of concern over what he was emphasizing. He answered though, 

“During the blip, I came across him a couple of times when I was working.” 

“Oooh, right, you were doing the Ronin thing during that time, right?” and then, because he was a smart ass he added, “Killing bad guys.” with feigned innocence, “Wade, uh, he does the same thing.” he wanted to point that out, “Is that how you know each other?”  

And yeah, Peter had already suspected that was how Clint knew Wade, but he’d wanted the other man to bring it up because the whole blip-Ronin thing was not really talked about, at least not to him.  

Clint saw through it though and he smirked mirthlessly and what Peter had tried to point out, 

“Wade?” he’d picked up on Peter’s too personal slip up, but Peter managed not to react to his mistake being pointed out, so, Clint nodded after a moment and with a sarcastic frown he said, “Deadpool kills bad guys?” his tone making it sound like a question. Peter maintained his outwardly relaxed appearance, even as anxiousness started to churn in his stomach at Clint’s tone. The archer then tipped his head from side to side. “Okaaaay,” he purposely dragged it out, “sure, I can’t say he doesn’t. He’s taken out some real filth over the years.” Peter knew there was a ‘but’ coming, “But, Wade also takes out, hmmm,” he made a ‘let’s see’ expression, “minor lackies and associates, even some personnel usually, and he always, always leaves a trail of bodies in his wake. Sometimes, some of the people who get dragged into it are just collateral damage to his destruction. In the wrong place at the wrong time.” he finished, eyebrows raised expectantly as he regarded Peter.   

And Peter couldn’t help the flash of the highway and Coney Island memories which flashed through his mind at Clint’s words. He hadn’t even looked up any other related scenarios involving Wade since then...Peter had subconsciously been avoiding looking up anything about Wa- about Deadpool.  

And since he wasn’t that good at schooling his features, Clint must have noticed that what he’d said was making Peter think, because he was nodding as he went on, 

“Also, I have personally witnessed him shoot another mercenary outside a bar once, for saying something that pissed him off. I can’t even remember what was said.” Clint folded his arms over his chest as he leaned his hip against the counter where he stood, “When Deadpool kills, he’s bloodthirsty and merciless and he actually really enjoys the carnage and violence. The more blood and dismembered limbs, the happier that son of a bitch is, even if it’s his own dismembered limbs.” Peter’s slightly wide-eyed expression creased into a frown as he absorbed that last sentence, “I’ve even heard he sometimes laughs and tells jokes while he’s killing people.” Clint half shrugged, “Basically, what I’m saying is, Peter, you don’t know him, you don’t know about him. Whatever he’s told you, if any of what he’s told you is even true, it wouldn’t even scratch the surface. Who and what he is, is outside of your usual wheelhouse.” Peter’s frown changed then, because Wade hadn’t given him any gory details, but he knew the basics of who and what Wade was. Wade hadn’t been lying to him. “Other mercs and the kinds of criminals you usually deal with, they try to steer clear of that guy. He is very dangerous and,” a sigh, “he’s not mentally stable.”  

Peter’s stomach was turning and he was tense from hearing everything Clint was saying. Because even though Peter didn’t feel like Wade had outright lied to him, Clint’s words were poking a lot of holes in the veil of denial he’d been wearing. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that he’d been turning a partially blind eye to just how deep Wade’s violence ran. He recalled right then that Wade himself had wondered how come Peter hadn’t been given a ‘blanket warning’ to stay away from him.   

In the end, it turned out the Avengers had done one better; they’d just never even mentioned the merc to Peter.   

And Clint bringing up how mercs and criminals tried to stay away from Wade, made him recall recently how scared those criminals had been that night Wade helped out for that one patrol incident. Clint had also mentioned Wade having no regard for collateral, and for a while already, Peter had been actively trying not to overthink the fact that his idea of a bad guy, and Wade’s, were most likely very different. ‘Collateral’ for Wade may well be people Peter would almost definitely have a problem with the man even injuring.  

And then there was the limbs dismemberment comment. How many times had Wade shrugged off the idea of getting hurt? He’d even told Peter he could kick him off a damn roof. He’d said he’d come back to kill Mysterio a hundred times if he’d had to. Peter had pretended not to think those comments were rather blatantly suggesting something, especially when he considered the fact that Wade talked casually about his advanced healing factor and the fact that the man didn’t age, but now it was too obvious for him to ignore.  

Yeah, maybe Wade hadn’t been lying, but he also hadn’t been truthing very straightforwardly. And Peter being in denial, avoiding certain things, hadn’t helped either. He was at fault too. Now, a lot of it was adding up, piling up. And Peter was going to be left trying to figure out how he really felt about all the red flags he was seeing, especially when weighing them against how strongly he’d already started to feel about Wade.  

“Having an epiphany?” Clint sounded just smug enough that it made Peter feel annoyed. They always treated him like he didn’t know what he was doing, all of the Avengers talked down to him in their own ways. And yeah, maybe sometimes he struggled to figure something out or he winged his way through some situations, but it didn’t help that everyone always wanted to rub it in his face. But despite Clint’s words getting under his skin, Peter still didn’t want to have the conversation, and since he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t be rude, and he wasn’t really the type to be that way either, he just offered Clint a weak smile and stayed quiet.  

Clint sighed again, before nodding once and unfolding his arms, walking toward Peter, 

“I’m not sure how you got mixed up with him, but Deadpool’s a lot to deal with, he’s better not seen and not heard.” he patted Peter’s shoulder once firmly as he walked by, and Peter clenched his jaw and silently swallowed his irritation, and then Clint added, “And you owe me a Monster.” right before he disappeared around the corner, out of sight.  

Peter stood for a tense few seconds, working his jaw, and then he sighed out his irritation. He was feeling petty though, so as he took a few steps forward to grab his mask off the counter he decided he was not going to replace that Monster! It was only $2 and Clint had kind of ruined his day. With that decided, he turned and left the kitchen.  

Peter walked all the way down the hall and around a corner, glad to not see Clint anywhere, or anyone else for that matter, and when he got to his room, he entered his code in the door again, followed by the retinal scan. After it unlocked, he slipped in and closed his door, sealing himself inside the neat space, where he took another breath and tried to calm down, he didn’t want to let the mixture of conflicting feelings and all his unanswered questions make him upset.  

He focused instead on what he had to do there. 

He’d only ever used his Avenger’s Mansion room a handful of times, and only ever actually stayed over in the room once. Due to the security procedures, they were responsible for keeping the rooms clean themselves, which meant Peter’s room was really stuffy because of the closed windows, but that was about it. It was otherwise still really neat.  

To remedy the stuffiness, he unlocked and opened both of the large windows and then he tossed his mask and his phone onto the stripped bed and walked over to the double door cupboard. Inside was a safe; another code later and it was unlocking, revealing the glasses that were the central access device to Tony Stark’s intelligence defense system network.  

Peter picked them up, taking a moment to look at them with mixed feelings of nostalgia, sadness and some regret, before he unfolded the temples and put the glasses on, saying, 

“Edith.” so that it activated and completed its security procedure. He’d walked over to his desk and before he sat down, he took out a small Stark tech flash chip from a secret compartment of his suit. He then switched on the holographic computer system, which booted up almost instantly and greeted him politely. Peter let the scanner identify and then connect the chip and once it was all connected, secured and ready to go, he instructed E.D.I.T.H to upload the system’s comprehensive security database onto the flash chip.   

He worked for a while then, going through and figuring out what else was necessary for his new suit. He also spent some time coding a few new system updates, using some of Tony’s original work and some of his own. Just some small, useful modifications. It was calming work, work he enjoyed, and he was able to get completely lost in it.  

It was over an hour later when he finally completed all that he could think of doing and he ruffled his hair satisfyingly after disconnecting the flash, before stretching where he sat and then putting the flash away in his concealed pocket. He stood up with a bounce in his movements and walked over to the bed to pick his phone up, meaning to check for any messages. But when he unlocked his phone, he saw the message from Wade that had come through earlier, it was still on his screen, just beneath the missed call notification.   

Peter had forgotten Wade had called and then sent a text! He groaned as he opened the message, hating how scatterbrained he could be. The message from Wade read; 

Tried 2 call, probs wont get anthr   

chance 4 a while. i’ll b thnkin of u   

bb boi (very inappropriately)   

Followed by a string of kissy face emojis and the usual skull, poop and capital L.  

“Deadpool.” Peter muttered fondly.  

He couldn’t really help how Wade made him want to smile, how the man made him feel. Even after all Clint had said earlier, Peter couldn’t help his feelings. He pressed the call button without really thinking, and was disappointed but unsurprised when it went straight to voicemail. It still kind of stung, but Peter didn’t know exactly what Deadpool had to do and deal with on a job, so he didn’t let himself get upset about it and ended the call without leaving a voice message. 

He just replied to the text; 

Call or text whenever you can   

And after some hesitation and reddening of his ears, he added a kissy emoji too. He was about to hit send, but then he thought he should tell Wade to be careful… but then, he thought of Clint’s words about Wade not caring about his own dismembered limbs and he blinked behind the lightly tinted lenses of E.D.I.T.H. He’d wanted to know more about Wade all along, and he’d been asking questions from the man himself, but something else occurred to him right then.  

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he sent the message as it was and then dropped his phone back onto the mattress and said, 

“Edith, show me all the information you have on SHIELD’s special circumstances subjects.” and as the A.I immediately went to filtering and compiling the files within seconds, his stomach tensed up.   

In the end, the list wasn’t actually that long, and Peter didn’t recognize almost any of the names…but he did recognize the name Wade Wilson.  

His stomach turned over with anxiousness as he read it a few times over;  

SUBJECT: WILSON, WADE [DEADPOOL]  

What’s more, was Wade was one of the ones at the top of the list of special circumstances subjects. The only other one of the top four that Peter recognized was the well-known X-Men mutant, Wolverine.  

He took in a quiet breath and folded his arms across his chest where he stood beside the bed, 

“Open Wade Wilson’s file.” he instructed quietly, voice low and a bit tense. The full file opened up and Peter first noticed that the pictures included of Wade, were ones not taken with his awareness, both of them of him in his suit and armed.  

Frowning a bit, Peter read through the info; 

The fact that most of the informative notes were redacted, and the rest of the more detailed reports that followed in the other attached files were the same, was very frustrating. The info apparently needed a S.H.I.E.L.D level 8 clearance to be accessed, and Peter had no idea what level of clearance he presently had through Tony, but apparently it wasn’t 8. Although, after skipping page after page of redacted info, he assumed it was more likely that the clearance level had been adjusted for him, by Tony.    

That made more sense to Peter, because even Tony had always treated him like a kid to a certain extent. So, it was probably Peter, specifically, that didn’t have access to the info. It wasn’t even a blanket warning, it was a blanket redaction! Peter wasn’t even able to gain access to read up on who or what Jack Hammer and Cable were.   

“Sucks.” he muttered in frustration. 

Well, anyway, he knew some of the information already, and he even knew some stuff the basic info didn’t list, so at least Wade had actually been honest with him about the things he’d asked about, and had told him more as well about certain things. That made him feel better too.  

S.H.I.E.L.D themselves seemed to be lacking info on Wade, considering how they were supposed to know everything . But Peter wasn’t sure whether that was because they hadn’t been able to find the info, or if they hadn’t thought it was super important to know…yet. Fury had once told Peter that he’d used to know everything, but Fury, as far as Peter had heard, wasn’t around much, or at all, lately, so maybe S.H.I.E.L.D was slipping?  

With another frustrated sigh, he once more skimmed through the heavily redacted reports and notes. The folder with a redacted name was also entirely redacted inside, totally blacked out, totally useless. And the Jack Hammer file only mentioned that it was a person, a man, and that he was some kind of tech genius and had some weapons expertise, everything else about him was redacted, and there were no pictures. The Cable file on the other hand, was almost empty, a lot of ‘unknown’ filled in everywhere and also no pictures.   

Instructing the A.I to cycle back to Wade’s files, Peter found there was very little he could gauge or learn about Wade from the odd word or incomplete sentence here and there. But a few points were available with just enough words not redacted to be interesting. 

He read them again;  

‘[redacted] considered extremely dangerous. Possesses a regeneration mutation ability which makes the subject speculatively immortal [A1132-N]. It has been noted [redacted]'

Peter really had to let that sink in. Even though he’d heard it in random bits and vague pieces from Wade and Clint, reading ‘immortal’ in the official S.H.I.E.L.D file really drove it home. Happy had said before that some of the special circumstance subjects were almost immortal and Wade turned out to be one of them. Frowning slightly, Peter checked out the citation, which led him to a few eye-witness account reports, presumably talking more in detail about their experiences with Wade’s regeneration abilities, but they were also heavily redacted. No surprise there. 

As Peter continued skimming over the text that was visible, he also read;  

‘Post-mutation appearance has been described as unrecognizable, [redacted] has speculated the subject may not be Wade Wilson [A732-RT] [redacted]’    

Peter felt his stomach twist uncomfortably just reading that. He checked the citation and read; ‘ investigation ongoing’ . That was all it said. Peter didn’t understand how S.H.I.E.L.D, or whoever, had come to that conclusion. How could they think Wade’s skin was bad enough to distort key features and make him unrecognizable? Although, they were features Peter couldn’t even be totally sure of himself since he hadn’t seen more than half of Wade’s face yet. But Wade was Wade! He wouldn’t be lying about that! Peter was shaking his head and frowning as he read the only other interesting readable piece,  

‘Accurate descriptions of the subject’s present appearance are not verified. U.S Special Forces documentation [redacted]. However, the subject’s appearance has been described repeatedly using the following descriptors; [redacted]”    

Peter continued shaking his head, frustrated by all the restricted information. He checked the rest of the visible and selectable citations and all of them were totally redacted, except for one, which stated that the X-Men would not fully disclose the information they had about Deadpool. The report also said that the X-Men collectively had been deemed only partially cooperative with S.H.I.E.L.D regarding Deadpool.   

Peter had no idea what Wade’s relationship was with the X-Men. Why would they protect information about him? As far as Peter knew from hearsay, the X-Men recruited and acknowledged mutants and protected innocents, they never generally went out of their way for other supers, heroes, aliens and even mutates, so it was strange. But he was glad at least some people weren’t just willing to sell Wade out. And yeah, he knew that he was not really in a position to defend Wade, he didn’t know him all that well, but he still wanted to. The desire to get to know Wade, to be closer to him, to continue developing their relationship, still interested him.  

He felt bad though, thinking about the fact that he was exploiting a loophole in finding out about Wade. After piecing things together earlier, he’d completely expected to find Wade in the special circumstances files when he’d looked into it, and he’d been right. Still, loophole or not, he was learning about Wade the wrong way. It wasn’t the honest way to go about getting to know his, uh, boyfriend? Were he and Wade a couple? They still hadn’t actually talked about it. Dammit.   

By that point, he was feeling really annoyed after meeting so many dead ends, on all fronts, as well dealing with a myriad of confusing feelings about Wade being a merc, and about what Wade had done and still did as a merc, and was off doing right then, as a merc. He’d already crossed the line though, so, figuring he’d see his research through once and for all, he sighed out an instruction for E.D.I.T.H to close all files with redacted info.  

And he’d mostly expected nothing to be left behind, but that was not the case.  

Within a few seconds, two remaining items were holographically floating before his eyes. One folder was entitled Weapons List Inventory , which Peter assumed held a list of all the weapons Deadpool was known to use. And the other folder...the other folder was entitled Photo Inventory.  

Peter quickly dismissed the weapons folder, he didn’t know, or care much, about guns and weapons. 

The photo folder though, he opened quickly, and definitely too hastily.  

He’d thought maybe there’d be some pictures of Wade without his mask, before or after mutation, but boy, was he wrong.  

The very first photo that opened was a picture of a body without a head, or an arm. And it was really high quality and there was so much blood. Making a face, Peter automatically skipped it so he didn’t have to look at it anymore, only to go to the next one, which was worse. It was not just one man, but many men’s bodies. They looked like Asian men from the few heads he could see, and the bodies were all over in some kind of bath house. There were torsos with no limbs, and other decapitated bodies and other dismembered bodies, just, limbs and parts all over and swords lying around and blood on the tiles, blood in the baths. It was...it was horrible. And gross. And it was a mess and it was very hard to look at.  

Peter blinked a few times, flipped to the next one, already grimacing before he fully absorbed what he was seeing. He was looking at more dead bodies, a different scene though. One corpse stood out more than the others, it was totally mutilated, like, purposefully, with many sharp instruments sticking out of or stuck into it. The other bodies were all a blood, gory mess, just like the former picture.  

The next picture was of more dead men and even a few women. Arms chopped off, seemed to be the theme for this one. Along with brain and blood splatter, bullet wounds too. Another picture, more severed hands, like a collection of them, some still holding guns in their dead, rigid grips. More bodies, more blood, more gore. The next one had some fire destruction. Burnt bodies, more severed, burned limbs. Next, was a man who’d been drowned in a tank of gasoline, he was also missing an arm. More dead bodies lying scattered around half packed boxes of drugs. More of the same next and next. Dismembered limbs, bullet wounds, stab wounds, mutilation, blood, violence, destruction... 

Peter kept flicking through the pictures, there were hundreds of them, until it all just became a blur of bodies and blood and he breathed out, 

“Close the file.” to E.D.I.T.H. Immediately the A.I cleared the holographic screen.  

Peter swallowed tensely and stared numbly ahead through the tint of the glasses. Clint hadn’t been kidding, Wade really seemed to get creative and was really into his work. But then, Wade had told him that too. He’d said he loved his job, he loved killing criminals. He’d never pretended otherwise.  

Wade had been honest about who and what he was. He killed people for a living...he killed criminals. Peter reminded himself of that as he stood with flashes of graphic photo images lingering in his mind. And even though it maybe wasn’t good to be trying to justify what Wade did, he made himself think of some of the horrors he’d seen himself, especially the victims of people who were like the men Wade killed. It didn’t change what they’d done already, couldn’t take it back from those who suffered by their hands. But after Wade was through with them, they’d never do it to anyone ever again.  

Peter felt very, very nauseous, and still quite anxious on top of that. It was difficult for him, it was a lot to take in, especially after the photos, now having visuals to accompany it all. Because while he understood what Wade did, he did not outright condone it, and he also couldn’t outright condemn it, so he remained as neutral as possible under the circumstances, but it was still not easy to have actually seen .  

He took the glasses off, the intelligence system automatically locking and shutting itself down before it was even fully off his face. He put them down on the mattress beside him as he sat down, processing. Processing what he did feel, and what he didn’t, about those gruesome images.  

So, Wade...Deadpool, was capable of that level of violence? Peter had already sort of known it. Of course, seeing it to the extent in those pictures made it so, so much clearer. His nausea wasn’t from shock though, after all, Peter had seen a lot of messed up stuff on the streets of New York first hand; violence and blood were present at least 80% of the time. And, no, he wasn’t totally desensitized to it, but he was a lot less affected after so much exposure to it, than he might have been, say, before the blip, or right after.   

Thinking of all the blood though, he’d never seen so much blood at any one scene like it was present at Deadpool’s ‘job’ scenes. It seemed to get everywhere . Peter thought back to his first night meeting Wade again, after the blip. He thought about that comforting hug they’d shared, being held by Wade. And then being covered in blood afterwards.   

It had been stressful...but he’d been, well, he’d been alright actually. He’d felt icky and he never wanted to be covered in some criminal’s blood again, but he’d been alright. He’d cried that night, but it hadn’t been because of the blood on his suit. Maybe there was something wrong with his thinking.  

But, even if he was intending to stay neutral about Wade’s merc job, it didn’t mean he had to stay neutral about Wade’s excessive use, and capacity for, violence. 

“Maybe, maybe I could bring it up,” he said aloud to himself, “just to talk about it. It’s not like I’m gonna’ say ‘stop being a merc’, but maybe, like, I could say ‘just relax with the violence a little’ or something, something like that.” he frowned to himself, realising how ridiculous it sounded. He also wondered if that was something a freshly minted boyfriend superhero, could reasonably ask of their freshly minted boyfriend who happened to be a very violent mercenary.  

With a deeper frown, Peter then recalled the time he’d suggested MJ drink less coffee. And he’d only meant, like, maybe, three cups, instead of six, and wow…he’d never known what the expression ‘if looks could kill’ truly meant until that day. 

Maybe there really was no good time to suggest a partner make a change to their lifestyle.  

Peter sighed loudly, muttering, 

“Ah, man.” and then he absently glanced at the large window to his right and his eyes widened when he realised it was quite dark outside. With a groan -it was just one of those kinds of days-, he stood up quickly to get ready to leave. He tidied up around his desk a bit, and after putting E.D.I.T.H back in the safe and putting his mask on, he shut the other window and left via the open one, closing it from the outside, knowing it would automatically lock.  

He started crawling and jumping then, until he was off the property of the mansion, and eventually he was swinging his way toward Manhattan central to start patrol. He figured since he was already in Manhattan, he’d start there and work his way back home.  

Monday through Wednesday, Peter was pretty busy with classes, classwork and patrol. He’d also spent a lot of his spare time upgrading his new suit’s defence intelligence system and he was starting to work on a spare suit as well, another like his new one, just in case. He’d also managed to clean his apartment some, and he’d thrown out old food, as well as actually having gone out to buy some groceries. Patrol had been okayish too. He’d come across a stabbing, a few break ins, some fights outside nightclubs and also some domestic drama turned violent. He’d even caught a fleeing high jacker, while the cops had followed along in the street below him as fast as they could. He’d also helped some people out of a car accident, stopped a different car accident from happening, helped firemen sort out a building fire, with thankfully no casualties, and then there’d been one attempted sexual assault, but he’d stopped it in time!  

All in all, it’d been quite a successful few days and Peter should have been feeling good...but he wasn’t, because Wade hadn’t contacted him, nor had he been contactable, for three whole days. Which, needless to say, sucked. Peter had expected at least a text or two. 

Presently it was Thursday, and as Peter often did at least once a week when he could, he’d go over for dinner at May and Happy’s house. His distracted mood was evidently too obvious though, because Happy asked, 

“You okay, Pete? Not hungry?” as he speared up a forkful of the beef cannelloni May had, quite successfully, cooked. Peter had only had two bites so far, but it wasn’t because he didn’t like the taste, it was actually quite delicious. The problem was, he didn’t have much of an appetite.  

And because he was so distracted, Happy’s question caught him off guard, had his head popping up, eyes a little wide, as he looked at Happy across the table where the man was sitting next to May. And then Peter let his gaze slide to May, who was also looking at him curiously now. 

“Is it not good, too salty?” she asked, making a face as she regarded his food and then her own, then looked at Happy, “Should we just ord-…” 

“Nonono.” he quickly shook his head, made himself smile, “It’s good, May, really, it tastes good.” he forked up a mouthful and ate it, saying, “See.” as he chewed. 

May hiked up an eyebrow, then she nodded, but she was also frowning, 

“Okay, thanks, Pete, but,” she waved a hand at him, “don’t talk with your mouth full.” 

Peter paused, closed his mouth and then just smiled and nodded, continued chewing.   

There was more eating silence for a while, Peter making more of an effort to clear his plate, and then Happy cleared his throat and asked, 

“So, how are things with your boyfriend?” 

Both Peter and May choked a bit, looking at him with varying degrees of ‘what the heck?’. Then Peter looked at May with the same expression and she shook her head, 

“I didn’t talk to him about it.” she raised her hands just above the table, one empty, one holding her fork, and then she looked at Happy expectantly and Peter looked at him again too. 

Happy raised his shoulders defensively, 

“What? Did you both forget I was also there the night Peter announced his date wasn’t a girl.” he looked between them, and Peter blinked before frowning and inwardly groaning, because, yeah, he kind of had forgotten. “I don’t get why you’re both being so secretive about it. You don’t think I’m okay with it? Of course I’m okay with it-” 

“We know, hon.” 

“It’s fine, Happy.” 

“I’ll have you both know that I am very progressive and supportive of the LGBTQ and etcetera-” 

“Okay, yeah, it’s okay, we know, we know.” May patted his arm to get him to stop talking, which after a defeated huff, he did. Peter was really grateful he’d stopped talking actually. It was so awkward.  

Still, he added, 

“Yeah, uh, thanks, Happy.” because the man meant well.  

And he foolishly thought that was the end of it as they all resumed eating, but then May asked, 

“Did something happen between you guys? You seem upset.” and Happy didn’t miss a beat in agreeing with a nod, saying 

“Right? That’s what I noticed.” looking at May but gesturing at Peter, who had to try not to roll his eyes or groan out aloud. He just took in a quiet, steadying breath and huffed it out through his nose, 

“I’m fine, really, it’s, it’s nothing.” 

“Peter.” May said in a ‘that sounds like nonsense’ tone of voice and Peter tensed a little. 

“When people say it’s nothing, it’s usually not nothing.” Happy added, really just not helping, the man shaking his head as he gathered another forkful of food. 

Peter could only sigh, knowing they wouldn’t let it go. He briefly wondered if Tony would have let it go. But then, knowing Tony, he would have pretended to let it go, but would have used some other means to figure out what was wrong. And then there would have been an Iron Man and Deadpool confrontation because Tony most definitely would not have approved of Deadpool being in his life, let alone having a relationship with him. That would’ve been such a mess.  

Although, looking at May’s worried expression, Peter wasn’t sure there wouldn’t still be a huge mess in the end. Because he knew she would not approve of Wade either if she found out what he did for a living. As it was, he still hadn’t figured out how it would work when the time came to tell May he was dating a mercenary. He’d been avoiding thinking abou-  

“Peter, what’s going on?” May prompted again, tone a little more insistent. 

He blinked out of his wandering thoughts and held back another sigh before shaking his head lightly, 

“It’s really nothing.” but they both just stared at him expectantly. He did sigh then, giving in, “It’s just, like, it’s, he’s working, and, uh, he travels for work, and I haven’t heard from him in, in a few days.” he tried to pull off a casual shrug, not realizing that he was stepping into a minefield until it was too late, 

“What work does he do?” Happy asked quite neutrally, while May asked, 

“Have you tried calling him? Do he think he’s cheating on you?” going quickly from zero to one hundred with her assumptions. Even Happy looked surprised. 

Peter though, knowing he was so bad at lying, tried to stall so that he could lie as convincingly as possible about Wade’s job, so he answered the questions in the opposite order, trying not to fidget.  

“Uh, no, no, I don’t think he’s cheating on me. And I have tried calling him but his phone goes to voicemail.” he said to May, and then to Happy, “But I don’t know exactly what work he does.” forcing himself to hold eye contact with Happy while he spoke, coming up with an idea on the spot, “Uh, some kind of…sp-specialist, maybe.” 

There was a beat of silence with twin questioning looks from Happy and May. Then, 

“A specialist.” Happy repeated, just as May said, 

“You still don’t know what work he does?” disapprovingly, then added, “A specialist is really vague, Peter. And why is his phone going to voicemail?” 

Peter really just didn’t want them to start speculating about the job so, in an optimistic voice, he said, 

“He was in the U.S Army Special Forces in the past, so I think it could have something to do with that. And maybe, uh, no cell reception where he is.” and he pulled it off pretty smoothly, while hoping that hearing about the military thing would paint a more positive picture. And it seemed to work because May’s worried frown eased a bit, she looked hesitantly mollified.   

But Peter was the one who was starting to worry, wondering just what the hell he was doing! Why the heck was lying? Because no matter how he looked at it, there was no point. The truth would eventually need to come out if he and Wade actually got serious, and the truth about Wade, any truths about him, were never going to be acceptable to the people in his life.  

It made him really sad to think about it, but it was a fact.  

“He was in the military, huh? How old is this guy?” Happy asked, glancing at Peter as he sipped his wine, but having started to stress internally about everything , Peter finally reached his limit, 

“Can we drop this?” he said a bit too loudly, voice pitching as it usually did when he raised it, then he added, “Okay?” and “Please?” because Happy was frowning and May was looking at him askance. “I really, I-I just don’t wanna’ talk about it.” he said in a quieter tone, looking from May to Happy and back again. And something in his voice or face must have made them take him seriously, because May raised her eyebrows and nodded, and Happy shrugged and drank another sip of wine.  

There was an awkward silence that followed, in which Peter started to feel bad for snapping, but before he could apologize, May was standing up and asking cheerfully, 

“Who wants ice cream?” and she seemed content to drop the subject, so Peter just made himself smile as he nodded, handing her his almost empty plate when she reached for it. Happy nodded too and got up to help with the dishes.  

Peter didn’t move, instead he sat there, staring at the table top, feeling down and with a ball of dread in his stomach. Wade hadn’t contacted him and it was putting him in a bad and tense mood. And why hadn’t Wade contacted him? What excuse would he have this time? Peter also really hated lying to May about it, but that’s exactly what he was doing. But only because there was no way he could tell her that Wade ‘specialized’ in killing people. So, what were his options?  

He sighed again and barely refrained from putting his head in his hands. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Instead, he did something else that had become an annoying habit. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check it...but there was still nothing.

It was the fifth day when Peter got a message from a number he didn’t know, but it was obviously from Wade. It read; 

Fone fkd againb butt I wrote ur   

num dwn so I wud stikll hv it.   

sry bb boi. also I wnt b bajk  

this wk, job xternded    

Followed by the usual string of kiss emojis and the skull, poop and L. Peter huffed mirthlessly. Honestly, he swore the only reason the ‘I’s’ were capitalized amongst Wade’s awful grammar, typos and shorthand words was because it was an automatic feature of using a space.     

He was presently settled on the parapet of a relatively high building near Queens. It was 1 AM on a Friday and Peter was intending to stay out later, as he liked to do when he could on Fridays and Saturdays, so that if he didn’t stay out late on a Sunday then he wouldn’t feel so bad.   

He usually still felt a little bad anyway.     

He stood up from his crouch on the ledge and started to walk along the parapet as he considered Wade’s text, pursing his lips under his mask and narrowing his eyes slightly as he reread it. It wasn’t that he thought the excuse was bullshit, especially not after seeing the pictures of what the aftermath of Wade’s jobs usually looked like. There was no way messes like that went over without some kind of aftermath. No, what he was thinking about, was whether this was what it was often going to be like with Wade. Seeing each other for a few hours and then not again for a week or more?  

It was way, way less than he’d seen MJ when they’d been together, and it would be way less than any average relationship he was sure, and since his relationship with MJ hadn’t survived, how could his barely-a-relationship with Wade make it? He hated to think of it, but the time and distance and superheroing and merc work were all looking more and more problematic.   

Peter stopped walking and stared down at the message, eventually just selecting a sad face emoji to reply with, and with a quiet sigh he pressed send and just left it that way. He didn’t want to give up, even with everything going on, but he still felt more than a little down and hopeless right then. As it was, relationships were hard enough when they involved normal people with normal lives...  

Yeah, so, he definitely had no idea what to say in a text message that wouldn’t sound clingy, judgmental or dismissive. A sad face seemed about the best he could do while trying to stay neutral and be understanding. He’d just wait to see Wade again, just waiting was all he could do.  

At least in person they seemed to understand one another much better, being with Wade in person really made the entire situation seem less hopeless and shrouded in negativity.  

He didn’t know when it would be that he’d see Wade again, but he was looking forward to it, in a sad kind of way…after all, Wade was going to be coming back from another blood bath, and Peter could still recall those pictures in the S.H.I.E.L.D file as crystal as day.  

And he still didn’t know whether he was going to bring it up with Wade.  

You're talking but I don't know what to believe...

Wade had lied to Peter.  

It couldn’t be helped really.  

But he hadn’t lied about his phone getting fucked up, or the fact that he’d written down the number. His phone was beyond fucked up actually, from the explosion he’d been caught in. And he had taken Peter’s number down, he’d used his own blood to copy it from his phone before the explosion damaged device had fucked out completely. So yeah, no lies there.  

What he had lied about, was the job being extended. It had actually taken him only four days to complete the job…the extra days that followed had been an entirely different clusterfuck.  

Let’s rewind and go back to that sunny Thursday afternoon when, after a job well done, everything had been peachy keen like a motherfucking pina colada jellybean...

“♪ If you like piña coladas and gettin' caught in the rain! If you're not into yoga, if you have half a brain...♪”   

Wade had completed the job he’d taken, and he was in a damn fine mood because he was a day ahead of schedule and would be able to return to NY sooner than he’d thought, which meant he’d be able to see Peter! Of course, he was a mess, so he needed to get out of his suit and clean up first, which had him returning to his safe house in San Francisco in the late afternoon of Thursday.  

He had a plan. 

First, he’d check flight times so he could buy the soonest available plane ticket back to NY, and once he knew his flight time, he’d take a shower, pack his shit up and head to the airport. 

 Yep, he had a plan! And he was singing, 

“♪ If you like makin' love at midnight, in the duuuunes on the cape! Thenm hm hm, hmmm hm hm hm hm, hm hm hm...♪” as he walked up to the door of his safehouse, feeling generally pretty fucking great and looking forward to seeing Peter.  

But just a minute after he’d walked into the house...it exploded.   

It was a big explosion, taking out most of the semi-detached double story, and no doubt badly damaging the attached neighbours houses, possibly even any cars parked in the street or driving by.   

Over all, it wasn’t a lightweight kaboom. But the culprit was an amateur, clearly, because whoever the fuck decided trying to blow him up would work, reeeeally hadn’t done their homework. Or maybe they’d just intended to put him out of commission for a while? Well, they had no idea who they were dealing with if they thought an explosion could take him down or out. He’d been blown up plenty of times, more than once by his own actions, both on purpose and accidently, and it never took him long to return to consciousness, even when he was in literal pieces.  

And that was if he even lost consciousness to begin with.  

And he didn’t, not this time, he didn’t even take any actually incapacitating damage, for him anyway. Third degree burns were nothing to him, and any broken bones, missing chunks of flesh and rubble damage were already starting to heal as he forced his way out of the house’s rubble that had collapsed on him. With an annoyed grunt he made his way through the charred, collapsing, on-fire remains of the house, partially limping as his broken leg healed, the fire of the explosion still licking at him, melting what was left of his suit further into his skin.  

He ignored the swells of flames and smaller subsequent explosions and collapses that followed as he walked over and through the messy aftermath of the explosion, heading toward what was previously his front door. He pulled open the half intact door, despite there being no walls to really speak of, and after he walked out, pulling the door closed again, the frame collapsed behind him as he descended the four steps, leaving a trail of blood on the steps and short concrete walkway before he came to stop on the curb. 

The people who’d gathered around on the street at a safe distance to stare at the flames and smoke and damage, were all gasping and talking and pointing and more than one someone screamed when they saw him.  

Wade ignored them, just as he ignored the fact that he had a major head injury, which he could feel beginning to regenerate slowly now that he was out of the fire and no longer being actively burned. Of course, the pain, so much pain, was very present and amplified, but he was used to being in pain enough that even heightened and with smoke in his lungs, he just breathed through it. He did make the minor mistake of shaking his head to clear the spottiness from his vision caused by the flaring pain signals in his brain. Which jarred the slowly regenerating wound on the left side of his head and almost made him blackout from the pain. But aside from listing slightly to the right side, he remained standing and blinked hard, just breathing through it, staying focused.  

He didn’t have time to be in pain, and he didn’t give a shit about how much he was bleeding, or about the people staring, or about the fact that his skin was exposed, the burned and unburned areas, since his suit was so badly damaged.  

He was only focused on what he needed to do. What...what did he need to do? To find, he needed to find...to find something...something important, something about Peter. Peter. Peter, Peter. He needed to tell Peter...he needed, fuck it, wha- yes! His phone! He needed his fucking phone! His brain had just stitched itself back together enough that he was able to process his thoughts in a more or less linear path, and also his fine motor skills were working well enough again that he managed to open the clip of the pouch in which his phone had last been, with his melted-glove, blood sticky fingers.  

The pouches were all damaged too, so finding the phone barely working wasn’t surprising. He couldn’t pull up the keyboard at all, there were a lot of dead pixels from the screen damage and the cell signal was dropping off every few seconds. But he was still able to navigate into his contact list where he could thankfully still see what he needed to, and being more aware of his priority now, cognizance almost totally back online, Wade immediately knew he needed to find a piece of paper. He looked up from the damaged phone, glancing around at the people and the cars and the houses around, before he spotted something he could use. He turned to walk over to the next house, causing more whispers and pointing.  

The man standing in the yard, also a little injured -probably the unlucky neighbour-, backstepped so suddenly he fell up his steps when Wade walked up to his postbox. But Wade ignored him too, his attention on a small uncollected stack of mail and paper stuck in the man’s box. He pulled everything out, letting most of it fall to the floor until he was holding a flyer. Flipping it over, he found the back was blank and he looked at his phone again. It was tricky with the damaged phone screen and his messy fingers, but he managed to pull up Peter’s contact number and he used some fresher blood from a wound in his arm to write down the number on the paper.  

He didn’t want to overanalyze why taking down Peter’s number was his priority when someone had just tried to kill him. He didn’t need to think about what that meant about his headspace and his feelings, he just knew that it mattered to him to not lose complete contact again, especially when he had no idea when he’d get back to New York. Because his second priority was indeed to find the cunt-fucker who’d tried to kill him.   

After he’d -mostly legibly- recorded the number onto the back of the flyer, Wade dropped the damaged phone and crushed it under a very angry, solid stomp, before he started walking away from the scene. He continued to ignore the people gasping and recoiling away from him as he passed by them on the curb, everyone giving him a wide berth. He also ignored the sounds of police and ambulance sirens in the distance.   

He could still make it back to NYC within the week, all he needed to do was wrap shit up fast.  

Weasel had an emergency number set up for making contact specifically because Wade’s phones would often get wrecked while on a job. It had actually been their old system before the blip, but Weasel had set it up again post blip not long after the first few jobs resulted in a lack of contact and Wade being very angry about needing something and not being able to contact Weasel to get it asap.   

Using that number, right after reaching his second, smaller and more covert safehouse in San Francisco, Wade used one of his burners to contact Weasel. He then proceeded to threaten and growl out demands for Weasel to find out who the fuck was behind the explosion, because it seemed pretty obvious someone had put out a hit on Deadpool. Someone with good sniffer dogs and intel, since they’d found his primary safehouse in San Francisco.  

It did suck balls that they’d destroyed one of his main safehouses, but that was also how Wade knew how to find them. Because if the merc, or whoever, had found out his primary location in one city, it meant they would probably know some others, especially the one in New York. Everyone knew NYC was where to find Deadpool nine times out of ten, so that’s where they’d be watching and waiting for him to go, and that’s where he was expecting to find them too. And he was intending to head there and meet them head on, but he hoped to find out a little more info about them before that. Of course, he was still going to meet the fucker whether or not he knew more, so his final instruction to Weasel before hanging up was, 

“And get me a fucking jet!”  

Phone call done, he opened up the laptop he kept at the safehouse and tapped his way into wire transferring Weasel enough money to put a jet on rush order, rented or bought, he didn’t give a shit. After sending the money, he got cleaned up while he waited for a call back, proceeding to pull off what was left of his suit. He grimaced each time he yanked out the pieces of his suit still not fully pushed out of his healing skin, making himself bleed anew all over the bathroom tiles and counter. Once he was in the shower, he washed off his own copious amounts of blood, along with some new and dead skin from where he was still healing or pieces were clinging to him.  

The safehouse he was currently in was partially underground, so Wade didn’t have to worry about windows and being seen, and he’d long ago removed all the mirrors. Hence, after he showered, he remained naked while his skin completed totally healing over and getting dry. He was trying not to focus on the fury simmering in his chest, he needed to keep his head clear, and honestly, the still fluctuating levels of pain sending shocks through his nerve endings was kind of helping to distract him.   

In the time he waited for Weasel to contact him, he prepared the available weapons he’d need –and wanted to use- from what he had in the safehouse, which was quite well stocked. When Weasel still hadn’t contacted him by the time he was done, having healed almost completely, he decided to get dressed. But since, over the years, he’d barely used the safehouse he was in, the only two suits he found in the locker were in the alternative version style from what he usually wore.   

He’d hesitantly and briefly tried out a few different looks during the blip era, just for the fuck of it, and his suit maker had been quite accommodating and had even emailed him some suggestions. But none of the looks had stuck and he’d vetoed them to keep using the original. The only other version he’d kept that he’d liked was basically like his original suit, except the black leather finishes and padding were almost as much as the red spandex. The black leather also ran all the way down the sides of his outer thighs as well as encased his lower legs entirely from just above his knees, making the red tactical shin and foot padding stand out more. Also, the black combat boots had red soles, which stood out more as well.  

After putting it on, he remembered that he’d quite liked it, but he didn’t have time to think about having more made because Weasel finally called him back. Knowing Wade well enough to know his way of thinking, the handler first told him the location of where he’d find the secondhand private jet he’d managed to secure on super short notice, and Wade was immediately heading out of the safehouse, strapped, locked and loaded. And then Weasel followed up by telling him what he’d managed to find out about the hit put out on him.   

Turns out it was less of a hit and more of a treasure hunt!  

Weasel reckoned Wade might have something they wanted, and you know what ! Wade had an idea of what that could be, and he was very willing to discuss it.  

And by discuss it, he meant he was going to fucking kill the fucker.  

In under six hours, fuel running low, Wade touched down, definitely illegally, in some open area in Jersey that was mostly secluded and turned out to be just about wide and long enough for him to land without causing too much damage. But most importantly, he was not too far from NYC. Honestly, he did not give an actual shit where or what or who about the jet, he just landed it and ditched it, not caring what happened to it, because he had more important things to do.  

Eventually, after some walking and using Google Maps on his latest burner, he made it to a road and he walked for a while until a car came along. The driver was nice enough to swerve to a stop after Wade stepped in front of the vehicle, and then he was nice enough to get out of the car when Wade pointed a gun at him. Wade hadn’t even had to take the safety off.   

He gave the guy a few hundred dollars and an expired, half eaten pack of cherry flavoured gum he found in his suit pouch, then got into his Subaru Forester and floored it to NYC.  

He went straight to his main NYC safehouse, which was in Brooklyn.  

It took about an hour or so of driving really fast before he reached the industrial area of south Brooklyn, in which his safehouse was located. And by that time, his anger having been brimming for hours , he was itching to fuck someone up until they were very dead. The safehouse he was going to was primarily used for weapons stashing and in the early hours of the morning, like right then, the industrial area was dead quiet. The perfect atmosphere for murdering the cunt who’d tried to kill him.  

He was presently walking along the quiet, wide paved area between the old, somewhat shabby brick buildings. He had a half smirk, half sneer on his face under his mask and he hadn’t felt quite so like his blip-era self in a long while, he was feeling really violent .   

Reaching back, he unsheathed one of his katanas, appreciating how the sound of it was so loud in the silence, also accompanied by a low humming sound. His smirk grew wider. The pair of katanas he’d retrieved from his San Francisco, rarely used, safehouse were, like his many others pairs, very high quality. However, they were the only pair he had which came with a customized harness that charged the blades with an energy field, reinforcing their durability and ability to slice through almost anything. He'd actually forgotten about them, having not used them in years , not since he’d been hunting fucking Francis. So rediscovering and reacquainting himself with them was going to be a real treat.  

As he neared his safehouse building, the outside of which looked like a really shitty one-story face brick storage facility, he started to whistle the theme song of Freddy Kruger, which he felt was quite appropriate considering what he looked like. A few more meters and he stopped in front of his safehouse, but he was not about to go in, just in case it was also rigged to blow.   

Wade stopped whistling then and started singing his own rendition of the song, 

“One, two, Deadpool’s coming for you. Three, four, gonna’ make your blood pour. Five, six…” he trailed off and tilted his head, trying to think of something suitable he could rhyme with six, “Five, six, what the fuck rhymes with-” just then someone jumped down off the low roof of the building and Wade looked at the guy. “Thank fuck, I couldn’t think of anything that I could rhyme with six.” then a second person jumped down on the other side of him, and he first slowly turned his head to look at the second guy, before whipping his head from left to right a few times.  

Two cunts , not one. Two cunts were trying to ki-, no, no, not kill, they were hunting him, because they wanted something that he had. Killing him was probably not strictly a part of their job, especially since it wasn’t actually possible.  

He’d sized them up fairly quickly during his triple takes, they were non-descript, soldier-like assholes who were more or less his own size, and since there were two now, he grinned under his mask when something popped into his head, 

“Ooooh, I just thought of something.” he unsheathed his second katana, and lowering his voice into a darker tone, he said, “Five, six, I’m gonna’ slice the balls off you pricks .” 

Heh, plurals were useful!  

They both ran at Wade from either side at the same time then, but they both had to duck back when he kick-spun and flipped fast and powerfully in the air, while swinging his katanas out at both of them at different angles. Both men barely managed not to get sliced in half, but the very tips of Wade’s katanas had caught them, having sliced diagonally through the thick padded jacket of one, and the other had been sliced vertically toward the front of his shoulder, where the material of his jacket had split and blood was drawn.  

Wade had landed in a half-fighting stance and he cocked an eyebrow as he glanced from one guy to the other, his katanas extended in either direction, 

“You guys really pissed me off by blowing up that house. I had a lot of Golden Girls memorabilia stashed there. I might just see which organs are left intact when I’m done with you fuckers and maybe trade a kidney in for a-”  

They both pulled out guns then and aimed them at him...and the guns . They were much smaller versions, but Wade recognized those guns!   

He widened his eyes, thinking, ‘ I knew it’, but out aloud he said, 

“ Now it makes sense, you guys want your gun back!” and he noticed they looked a little more smug now with their guns out. Wade glanced from one to the other, “You should have just said so, fellas.” he said it like they were being unreasonable and proceeded to put his katanas away, watching as their smug expressions faded to suspicious confusion, their guards dropping just a little. Just enough. Idiot amateurs. “Seriously, if you’d just mentioned it in the first place,” he put his hands on his hips, “I would have told you both to go fuck yourselves sooner.” then quickly unholstering his guns and starting to fire both ways as he sprinted away.  

He needed to put distance between them and him. Gun fights were fine, except for when he didn’t know what a gun could do. And Wade hadn’t had a chance to test that gun yet, so he had no idea what it could do, but dickhead one and two seemed to get cocky after taking their guns out, and that had to be for a reason.   

He heard one of them grunt and yell a curse in a foreign language just when he’d emptied one mag to his left, and with a brief side glance, also estimating from the timing and angle, Wade knew he’d probably hit close to a knee. It had been the general idea to wound at least one of them, because he was anticipating the one who hadn’t been shot to open fire on him with the special gun. 

One shot was better for the first time, just so he could get an idea of what he was dealing with, and he had just parkoured his way onto the opposite building’s low roof, right when the uninjured dickhead shot at him.  

Wade heard the sound of energy rushing and then there was a warping sound and a wave of heat washed over him from behind, which had him chanting, 

“Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck-” as he ran. But he was surprised when nothing hit him! Had the dickhead missed him? Then, in the air, Wade immediately noticed a feeling of displacement, right before there was a delayed jarring, quake of energy pulsing outwards...pulsing underneath him. “Whatthefuuuuuu-” 

He’d been running up the slant of the roofing, but just as suddenly as he was, there was no roof left to run on. It was disappearing right before his eyes, turning all fine and particle-like! 

And then he was falling.  

It was a low two story fall and he hit the ground hard, but not in any way that slowed him down, he was up on his feet immediately, turning to look behind him to see where the dickheads were. He spotted both of them several meters away, they’d given chase, one was closer than the other. Just as quickly as he’d spotted them, he aimed his still loaded gun and fired, holstering the empty one automatically. The first shot missed in one direction, the other landed in another, a chest hit, same guy as before. One dickhead was maybe faster than the other? Wade had to keep an eye on that one.  

Or he’d been planning to, but then he got distracted when he noticed the building that had been hit by that gun, the one he’d been running on and was now standing in, it was mostly gone, barely any pieces left, not much rubble, most of the walls just fucking gone. And of course, the roof. All open airy space. 

Wade gasped,  

“Hoooooly shit! Is that some kind of disintegration gun! That is fucking aweso-AH!” he screamed, having to run because they were both aiming at him.   

He ran fast, he’d always been fast, and made sure to keep behind buildings and warehouses and whatever else he could, aware they were chasing him but also that they were not very fast at running or at firing those guns. He took note of that, specifically that the guns seemed to be slow, maybe they needed a charge up time? That posed an advantage for him.   

Wade could hear the sound of another building being hit, about fifteen seconds apart from the last time they’d fired. And the energy and heat and the jarring quake let him know where about they were firing. So he went in the opposite direction, and spotted a place to take temporary cover. From running he went smoothly into leaping up and over a fairly large stack of warehouse cargo crates, and he used his hands on the top of the stack to twist his body sharply down, landing soundly and turning, before dropping himself down into a crouch to lean against the stack. 

 On autopilot he unholstered his empty gun, then ejected both mags and reloaded from the ammo in the pouches on his thigh, but his mind was far away. He was still seeing how the roof had disintegrated beneath his feet, and it made him flashback to the blip. To how people had just turned to dust, just gone, no evidence that their physical presence had been there before, not even their clothes.  

How many times had he wished he’d blipped? A thousand times? A hundred thousand times? How many times had he killed himself right after wishing he hadn’t been left behind? So, so many, and now, that gun...he actually felt, or, a part of him felt curious about whether that gun could actually kill him. If it disintegrated him? Would he be...gone?  

He was staring at the ground, breathing a bit heavily, guns loaded, background sounds filtering in from the destruction happening around him and he...he was actually thinking about trying it, thinking he should maybe just let them fucking shoot him, put him out of his misery, finally. 

Except, except that he hadn’t been miserable lately.

Peter. Peter had changed that.  

Peter was in his life now. And Peter was so, just, fucking, just, amazing! It still made Wade’s chest tight to think that there was a real possibility he could actually be with someone again. Someone who actually, really seemed to like him and want him and didn’t seem to mind everything that was wrong with him. He had a fucking reason to stick around, Peter was his reason. Peter was a hell of a reason. Peter felt like all the reason he could ever need.  

And it was difficult to have someone to stick around for again, because it meant he was vulnerable emotionally, which was super shitty, but right then, and more pressingly, it sucked because in that particular fight, with a weapon that could actually potentially really actually truly kill him, it meant he was also vulnerable physically. He had to be careful in the fight. 

But , it was also so fucking fantastic because it made him feel good and pumped up and like all the violence inside him would come in handy because he wanted to fucking win the fight just so he could see Peter again, and again and again.  

Beneath his mask Wade half grinned, half grimaced. Then, wheezing out a breath around the emotional lump that had lodged itself in his throat, he narrowed his eyes and raised his guns as the sounds around him reached dangerous proximity. He hissed out, 

“Fuck. Yes. Maximum Effort .” before he pushed himself up and straight into running again, literally seconds before the cargo crate stack behind him was impacted by a blast and the energy immediately started to disintegrate it.  

It was typical of Wade’s life that the day he came across a weapon that might be able to kill him permanently, he did not want to be killed permanently. Fuck. It. All. Coming to a quick turn, he halted running for a moment just around the corner of a warehouse building, taking stock of his ammo and the weapons he had on him as he formulated ten very hasty plans in his mind.   

His custom katanas, while great, would only come in handy if he could get close, and prior to his revelation about having to be careful, he would have just taken the chance of dodging their shots, but now, he first needed to get rid of those guns before getting close, which was just so inefficient. 

Hmm, okay, okay, maaaaybe...licking his lips under his mask, he narrowed his eyes again and considered the fact that his safehouse was basically an arsenal. He had some really good stuff in there, one thing in particular would really help him out. He just needed to get there, fast.  

With a hasty, risky idea forming in his mind, because ultimately, he was hardwired to be reckless, he didn’t overthink it. Instead, he took his idea and ran with it, literally turning and running again, right in the direction of the dickheads, guns blazing.   

He gunfire could hurt them, which meant they feared it, which meant it affected their ability to shoot him because they had to duck and run and dodge. And they weren’t faster than him, and their fancy weapons couldn’t shoot simultaneous shots without a brief charge. He used these advantages to put his plan into action. He was intending to disarm them first…literally if possible. He wanted to get rid of those guns efficiently .  

Wade had emptied one clip and he tossed the empty gun aside, right as he went into a hard sprint directly toward the uninjured one. And he managed to land a solid jump kick, which clocked the dickhead right in the face with enough force to knock him clean on his ass. At the same time, still in midair, he used the momentum to turn just enough to aim and shoot at the already injured dickhead. The shot landed, hit him in the side, the guy grunted, stumbled.  

Wade landed on his feet, gun raised, and he unsheathed one katana as he took stock of the situation.  

Both dickheads looked miffed. The one he’d kicked was still standing up, apparently he hadn’t gone down, and he was glaring now, gun still in hand. And the one Wade had shot more than once by that point, was bleeding but also glaring and still holding his gun too, and, yeah, nope, neither one looked particularly bothered by being injured. That was...not good.  

Wade tilted his head, looked between them as they both squared up to him, ready to keep going. He realized then, quite frustratedly, that while they weren’t super fast or super smart, they might just be either super strong of impervious to serious injury or pain. No matter which or what it was, they were supers . Mutants or mutates, Wade had no idea, but the fight had just become ten times more serious. 

When the dickhead he’d just kicked raised the gun at him again, at much closer range, Wade reacted fast, and discovered it was indeed some level of superstrength, because when he kicked the guy again, his kick landing squarely and forcefully against the side of his head, the blockhead barely flinched. Just bared his teeth, which were bloody, but he was still standing upright and he didn’t look like how that kick should have made him look. i.e: broken jawed. 

Wade could only say, 

“Ah, fucking seriously.” just before he was backhanded several meters away.   

Wade did not possess super strength, he had strength that was not normal, sure, but it was still very not super. And fighting fuckers with superstrength was always a real pain, literally and figuratively. But, he was fast at least, and that paid off, gave him some sense of satisfaction hearing the dickhead curse when he realized Wade had sliced his disintegration gun in half right when he’d been hit. 

He loved his energy charged katanas. 

Still, his advantages were hardly that anymore. Groaning in frustration, he rolled the hit off and got back to his feet, his broken cheek bone already reforming under his mask as he grumbled, 

“Fucking superstrength, why does everyone but me have superstrength?”  

At least it also seemed that the dickheads couldn’t really fight since they hadn’t tried to defend or engage in physical combat yet. That, and the fact that they could take damage and probably feel pain, was what Wade had to work with. Also, there appeared to be no super healing for them since the one he’d shot was still grimacing and bleeding.   

Basically, if they could be injured, Wade could take them down, he just needed to strategize. 

Fuck, he was pretty shit at strategizing. 

“Seven, eight,” he hissed, spraying some blood into his mask from his mouth, “killing you motherfuckers is gonna’ feel really great.”  

The one with the remaining gun had a charged shot and he was aiming, ready to fire, so Wade decided to try a different version of one of his ten hasty plans. He needed to make use of the power of their gun, it would be faster than trying to fight them since they were supers and he had to try not to get killed by that gun.  

So, he took off in a sprint again, moving in the direction of his safehouse, ducking between buildings to get there faster as well as interfere with their shooting aim. They didn’t use the shot up though, they were chasing him and not wasting it and that was fine, that was perfect, his hasty plan coming together quite well when up ahead he saw the right building.   

He ran into the open then, where the guy could see him and take a clear shot. And he reached the building just in time, just as the guy shot at him. Unfortunately, Wade’s plan was hastily made, and he couldn’t completely avoid being included in the disintegration blast.  

The unintentional sacrifice for his plan to work, meant that he lost almost his entire left arm, but , having used the disintegration blast to clear his way, with a quick low roll, a jump and some scrambling around in the dark, Wade was able to slip into his own safehouse through the disintegrated wall of the adjoining building. And that’s what he’d needed.   

He only had one arm, but with access to his safehouse, he also had Cable’s gun.  

The awesome gun Cable had left as a parting gift for him so many years ago.   

Wade didn’t have time to unlock the specialized safe though, so he used his katana to open it and then resheathed it so he could use his one arm to handle the gun. And it was hard to switch the fucking thing on and turn the dial up all the way, but he managed and it was worth it, because the two dickheads didn’t suspect a fucking thing.  

Just as they came running up, he fired in their general direction, and they managed to jump out of the way, but the blast from Cable’s gun wrecked the front of the building and even damaged the concrete ground and a building further down. Wade walked out then, bleeding from his one missing arm and holding the gun in the other, and he saw the two getting to their feet with twin irritated grimaces on their faces. Best part was, the charge time on Cable’s gun was much shorter.  

Wade couldn’t help himself, he had to fill the waiting silence, 

“Nine, ten, if you assholes think you’ve got a bigger dick than me, think again.” they both just looked at him with frowns, a little confused and a little disturbed, at either his weapon or his choice of words, or both, he didn’t know. But being a good sport, Wade explained, “In that sentence, dick refers to my gun...and my dick.” and then he fired again.  

The fight that followed was hella exciting, but also pretty fucking brutal.  

Wade only had one arm to work with, and that really fucked up his balance. So, using Cable’s gun, which was heavy and unwieldly, was not easy. Still, it helped to eventually get rid of the second disintegration gun, and half of the guy’s hand, which, bonus much. The two types of guns had also reduced a large part of the industrial area to trash and space though. The remaining disintegration gun had cleared more of the area before Wade had managed to disarm the guy, and Cable’s gun had reduced a lot of, well, everything and anything left around, to rubble.  

It was a mess.   

And while he’d been glad to get rid of their guns at first, without guns, they’d started to physically fight him, and Cable’s gun became useless to him then since he only had one arm and he needed it to fight. So, eventually, all three of them ended up without guns, using knives and other weapons they could find, just attacking and dodging and ducking and fighting and it was very chaotic. And while Wade excelled as a fighter out of the three, no contest, again, he was one armed, up against two superstrength supers. Not fun.  

He managed to slice em’ up fairly well though, with his one available arm wielding his katana, so they were bleeding and weary, and wary of him. And being injured, they were at least slowing down. But even with that, their superstrength was superstrength. Wade was reminded of that every time he failed to dodge their hits and they’d break or shatter his bones or pulverize some organs with a single punch or kick.   

He was at a disadvantage and they all knew it, because even though they were taking damage, Wade was taking greater damage, and with his healing factor focused on his missing arm –and his usual cancerous disposition- his other wounds weren’t healing quite as fast. So with every kick that fractured bones or a punch that would send him flying, more and more they wore him down.  

As all things do though, the situation came to a head, finally. 

Wade, who had lost a hold of his katana somewhere along the way and had been punched flat out on the bloody, rubble trashed ground, his jaw slowly piecing itself back together for the umpteenth time, was very aware that he was close to passing out and probably dying, if he let the beat down go on. It wouldn’t be a permanent death, but he didn’t want the two dickheads to get away from him and possibly go after Peter, or rather, Spider-Man, looking for their stupid gun, so he had to do something.   

An opportunity presented itself when the more injured dickhead grabbed him by the scruff of his mask and collar and yanked his head up, about to punch him in the face and break his jaw, again. The dumbass’ thigh was suddenly right there though , so Wade quickly pulled out a tactical knife from his ankle strap and he stabbed the prick right in his thigh, right in his femoral artery. 

Super pleased, Wade said, 

“Oopsie.” just as he yanked the knife out again and blood came pouring out of the bastard's thigh like a warm fountain, “Yeah, there’s three and four.” he muttered to himself, falling back when the guy let him go, shouting in pain and shock and bleeding fast. Wade, grunting and struggling, slowly got to his feet as the guy freaked out, almost slipped in his own blood and grabbed at his leg, trying uselessly to stop the bleeding. Wade watched him, amused, right up until he felt a presence behind him and he turned around, only to be face to face with the other dickhead…who’d picked up his fallen katana.  

Wade made a sound of genuine pain when the dickhead shoved his own charged katana right into, and through, his abdomen. Most days he could get stabbed twenty times and shrug it off, he was so used to it, but with all of his other serious injuries and the katana being super charged, fuckfuckfuck, it fucking hurt on a very deep level. And then dickhead number two, still bleeding out and looking paler by the second, decided to unsheathe Wade’s other katana from his harness, proceeding to similarly run him through with it from the back. Wade barely made a sound that time, choking on the blood that rushed up into his mouth, and there was already so much blood in his mask it was literally stuck to his face, little blood bubbles forming on the spandex each time he wheezed a breath.  

Christ fucking balls.  

Both katanas were right through his torso, and there was definitely one through his lung.  

Yeesh, breathing around steel was fucking hard.  

Wade wheezed in another breath then, hands twitching at his sides as he looked into the bloodshot eyes and marked up face of the dickhead in front of him.  

Even in immense pain, his mouth, blood filled though it was, never failed him, 

“Kin-kinky.” he rasped out as he stared straight into the furious eyes of the asshole glaring at him, “Admit-tedly,” he spoke with effort, “this is not, my first time.” he brought his hands up and grabbed the guy’s shoulders, bringing him closer and making the guy shove the katana in deeper. The man looked disturbed and grossed out as he sneered with his bloody upper lip twitching, and Wade made a shaken, half laughing sound of mostly pain, swallowing the blood pooling on his tongue before he added, “B-but seriously, DP doesn’t stand for double pene-tration,” he wheezed out, coughed and then tried not to cough because fucking ow . He had to ignore it though, ignore all the pain as he usually did, because he had to focus and he had to kill these motherfucking cunts so they stayed. Away. From. Peter . Gritting his teeth, Wade added, “At least, not this type of double penetration.” in a pained hiss, glancing down at his abdomen purposefully. 

 He needed to focus. 

 The rapidly weakening asshole behind him was starting to breath real shallow, the sword he held through Wade was shaking in his grip. Wade could feel it trembling against his fucking spine. Dickhead two was heading for death sooner rather than later and dickhead one didn’t look pleased about his buddy’s inevitable demise. And for the first time, sounding annoyed and urgent, he spoke, 

“Where is weapon, you fucking clown?” and Wade noted the accent, something European, possibly northern. He’d understood the language they’d been cursing in before, but couldn’t place it.  

Wade had taken note that both of the katanas were more or less on his left side when he’d looked down, and he’d already decided on his plan of action, so he nodded at the asshole snarling at him, 

“Okay, okay, Jesus, I’ll tell you.” he said it like everything that had happened so far was just so exasperating, and then as sincerely and steadily as he could he added with narrowed mask eyes, “It’s in my sex toy drawer, at your mother’s house.”  

Dickhead one made a furious sound and Wade did too, you know, because why not? But at the same time as they snarled at each other, Wade used his grip on the man’s shoulders to rip himself sideways , clean off the perfectly sharp blades, slicing clean through so many organs and so much muscle and he barely managed to stay on his feet as his own blood splattered to the floor audibly.  

“Fuck !” he yelled loudly, just because sometimes exclaiming curse words when things hurt made him feel better, but he didn’t pause for more than one second, cursing at the same time as he was putting all his strength into a quick spinning, partially unbalanced, kick to the half dead dickhead’s back, so that he was harshly propelled forward.  

Weak as he was, he was unable to stop himself from slamming forward, and since both dickheads had been surprised by what Wade had done and still had the very sharp katanas held up, they collided perfectly, successfully stabbing each other right through! The half dead one fell too, not strong enough to stay standing, he dragged the katana he held a fair slice of the way through the other prick’s guts, even as the man tried to catch him and keep him standing, blood was already dribbling out of his mouth.  

Nice. Real nice. It was nice to be embraced before fucking dying. Good for them.  

They groaned and gasped so much as Wade stood by watching. They were probably not as familiar with being stabbed in vital organs as he was, and it made Wade wheeze-laugh weakly, mirthlessly, and in so much pain. He was barely staying upright, his side bleeding heavily as he held his one hand over the area, trying to prevent anything from slipping out before the skin sealed closed. And there was so much blood gathering on the ground, that when Wade lifted a leg to kick the half dead one hard enough into the other that they both felt to the ground, he nearly slipped and fell.  

Barely maintaining his balance as the two fell over in a heap, still groaning, bleeding and gasping, Wade pulled out a small concealed handgun he hadn’t used during the fight, 

“I love threesomes!” he announced in a loud, flat voice, jaw clenching and unclenching as he stood unsteadily over them. He aimed the gun at the dickhead who was closer to death and added, “Because everyone gets fucked.” and they had no time to say anything before Wade shot them both quickly, one after the other, right in their blockheads.   

As his luck would have it though, the less injured dickhead’s hand fell open just when his brains splattered onto the concrete, and in his hand was a small...detonator. 

Wade narrowed his masked eyes and said, 

“Well, fuck me.” in exasperation, just a second before an explosion went off.  

The explosion had originated from the dickheads themselves, or one of them anyway, some sort of last resort shit.  

It wasn’t actually too bad, only about as serious as a stick of dynamite going off one foot away, which for Wade was not too bad . It was definitely meant to kill the person carrying it though, but right then, it had just been a last shot taken at him. He got hit by it just enough to get knocked back and get some serious fucking burns for the second time that day. He should have expected more explosives, the assholes did blow up his other safehouse, which, in hindsight, he realized had probably just been to get his attention, so he’d go looking for them in NYC, because that was where the gun they wanted was located.  

Well, that clearly worked out well for everyone. Clearly.  

The blast wasn’t something he could walk off though, not right away. It actually just compounded his injuries, since he’d already been pretty fucked up from the fight. And although his healing factor was working on it, with the primary focus still on his arm, regeneration would be slower everywhere else. At least he’d almost stopped bleeding, so he wasn’t going to pass out anytime soon anymore, which was good, because he had to get inside of what was left of his safehouse and see if he could find a new, new burner phone.  

He couldn’t immediately move though, even with the bleeding slowing, he was still too fucked up. He couldn't even feel his legs. So he just lied there for a while, healing really slowly and hurting really badly. The cold concrete was cool under his back, even through his suit, which was nice. The fact that there were two exploded corpses lying close by, and that he was lying in a mixed puddle of blood, flesh and glass and rubble, ranked as nothing too unusual for him.   

So, Wade decided he’d just wait awhile longer to regain feeling in his lower half and until he felt less queasy and more coherent. Then he would drag himself into the safehouse. Right then though it was too quiet, so he started humming a tune into the night air, an upbeat one, something encouraging, 

“♪ Hm, hm, hm, na, na, na…s’alright, alright…aalriiight. ♪” and slowly it turned into singing in a weak falsetto, “♪ Let this groove, get you to move, it's alright, alriiiight. Let this groove, set in your shoes, stand up! Alriiiiiiight. ♪”  

About a half hour later Wade was far from completely healed, but able to feel his legs again and stand up. So he did, and then he partially limped, and winced a lot, as he walked around the mess and rubble surrounding his safehouse, leaning over to pick up his katanas first, and then Cable’s gun. He winced again when another bone in his leg finally cinched back together, but he stood up straighter and it actually made the last few steps over the rubble and into the safehouse easier. Once he was finally ‘inside’ the half-collapsed place, Wade dropped the weapons onto the ugly secondhand sofa he passed by.  

He wasn’t concerned when he noticed the less damaged part of the place looked a bit tossed up, like someone had been looking for something. No prizes for guessing who and for what. They couldn’t have found a way into the main area where he kept his weapon stash though, or they would have found a lot of weapons to use against him. Wade also wasn’t concerned about anyone showing up there anytime soon to disturb him; the trick to having some privacy in a place like an industrial park was to buy up some of the surrounding unused buildings and land as well, that way no one would ever really come around. The location was screwed now though, but his weapons and some other stuff was salvageable enough that he could have Weasel move it to another location.   

But fuck Weasel. Before he contacted Weasel, he needed to contact Peter.  

On the side of his regrowing arm, Wade leaned heavily on the steel drawers set against a still intact wall and with a small grunt, and leaving smears of half dried blood on everything he touched, he yanked open the second draw from the top and reached inside for one of the many burner phones inside. 

He switched it on and waited -impatiently- for it to start up, watching the screen with no small amount of annoyance, while sniffing and swallowing more thick blood. He made a face under his blood caked mask, muttering, 

“So gross.”  

Wade stared at the phone in his hand irritably, missing the days of cheapy, old burner phones. All of his burner phones these days were smart phones because of technology only going in one direction, and so he had to use ghost chips in all of them to keep them untraceable, and he had to wait for them to start the fuck u- 

Abruptly, he coughed up some blood again, and a tooth he must have swallowed. He peeled up his mask that time and spat the mouthful out instead of swallowing, before breathing a bit deeply in frustration as he looked down at his side where he’d ripped himself away from his own katanas. The suit was split open and he could see his skin slowly stitching itself back together.  

The pain was really intense too, and it was pretty hard to concentrate. He knew it would start to subside eventually, the more he healed, until just the cancer pain was left, but it was nothing some Percoset and a shit ton of cocaine wouldn’t help to numb much sooner. 

But, Peter first, pain second.  

The phone had finally started up and Wade opened a message. He’d actually, for the first time in a long time, attempted to memorize the number he’d written in his blood on that flyer. Now, with his brain firing off pain signals consistently and his healing factor working triple time on his cancer, his arm and his injuries, it was more than a little difficult to recall. So he wrote a vague enough message that it wasn’t clear what he was talking about or who to specifically, his bloody gloved fingers twitching as he tried to type while healing, and also slipping on the screen, messing up the message a bit, and when he was done and mostly satisfied with what he’d typed, Wade sent it to the three possible versions of the number he could recall.  

He waited for some seconds afterward, and felt somewhat relieved when two of them seemed to go un-received and one was successful! Wade really fucking hoped it went to Peter, or the younger super would think that Wade had just forgotten about him or ghosted him again.  

After he sent the message, Wade decided to not bother about Weasel right then, he just wanted to lie down and heal. So, he walked through to the sparce sleeping area of the place, where a large but unused bed without any covers was pushed toward the corner. Wade actually hadn’t been to that safehouse in quite a long time either, he realized that as he entered into the sort of shabby bathroom area and wondered if the utilities worked.  

They should do though, because Weasel was meant to have taken over all that shit once Wade had put him on the payroll after the blip. He sighed and leaned his hip against one of the sinks in the row – all mirrors long ago smashed or removed- and he tried the faucet. 

“Thank fuck.” he breathed out when the water, despite having a hard time flowing at first and not looking very clean, sputtered out. After a moment it cleared up and Wade peeled his blood-wet mask off, before using his one gloved hand to rinse away the crusted spit up blood that had dried on his face, as well as the blood from the hits he’d taken that had already healed, just leaving the mess behind.  

Face wet and dripping bloody pink water, he shut off the tap and leaned his hand on the edge of the sink, catching his breath for a moment. He frowned slightly when he thought about everything that had happened. Those assholes had wanted the gun he had, but why? They clearly had others. Unless there was something different about the other one that wasn’t as obvious as the size.  

It was actually a good thing Peter had said he couldn’t keep it, or else Wade would have indeed stashed that gun in the very safehouse he was standing in, but he’d instead kept it at the apartment he lived in, and dickhead one and two hadn’t known such a place existed probably. They’d known about his safehouses though and honestly, Wade knew that there were a few people in the merc business who knew where some of his safehouses were, just like he knew where some of theirs were.  

Safehouse was a really relative and sometimes broad-spectrum term, you know?  

The only other option for how they knew of his safehouses…was Weasel. Wade clenched his teeth tightly, jaw flexing, as he thought about whether Weasel would turn on him. It was entirely possible. But , it was also possible that Weasel would have just sold him out because he didn’t want to get hurt. That was very in character for Weasel actually. Wade wasn’t even sure he could be angry about that, it’s not like he didn’t know Weasel was like that.  

But if someone squeezed Weasel for info, usually he’d call Wade to tell him immediately after. Yet, Weasel had seemed surprised about the explosion in San Francisco and he’d helped Wade get back to NYC on the double. Was he being two faced about it? Had he just chosen not to be upfront? Or had he tried to make up for giving up the information under threat, by helping Wade so fast. 

Wade was very conflicted about how he should deal with Weasel, if it even was Weasel.  

“Fuck!” he yelled, and then grimaced as his still raw side hurt. 

Wade dropped down to his knees then, effectively hurting himself again, and he wrenched up a loose floor bathroom tile, underneath which was his stash of pain killing cocaine. And after grabbing up the hand sized bag, that he could hopefully O.D on, he tucked it under his healing arm and also grabbed the gun stashed in there, before standing up and kicking the tile mostly back in place. Then he half walked, half swayed over to the shower stalls.  

He chose one at random and collapsed into it, resting against the side opposite the faucets and showerhead. Ripping the cocaine bag open with his teeth, he then brought his legs together so he could pour it out into his lap. From there he scooped it up and raised his hand to bury his face in it, rubbing and just breathing it all in, then coughing in pain, and then breathing in some more, and again and again, until he started to feel his brain tingle pleasantly.   

He hadn’t been in such a state in a long time. 

In a fight like the one he’d just faced, he usually would have bailed if it got too bad, and would have waited until the next time to tag the fuckers back. Or in the case of those disintegration guns, he would have let them try to kill him once and for all. Wade usually had nothing to lose, and if he wasn’t being paid, he had nothing to gain. That was how he’d been seeing the world for a long time.  

But Peter was in the picture now. And he was meant to be giving that gun to Peter soon, but he didn’t want assholes like those dickheads going after Spider-Man for it. Whether or not Peter could handle it, whether he was an Avenger or whatever the fuck, Wade didn’t want to hand that gun over to him knowing it came with some bullshit attached to it. So, he’d have to find the people responsible for trying to get that gun back and kill the ever-loving fuck out of them first.  

But until then, he’d have to hang on to that gun. 

He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep it, since Peter would probably insist of getting it back for super hero-y reasons in the near future, but Wade would just have to wing it with making up excuses.   

He sniffed up more cocaine he felt stuck in his nose and then sighed out some fine white powder, letting his eyes fall closed as the pain started to become background noise. The coke would probably kill him, but if it didn’t, it still helped with pain and sent him falling into the oblivion of a coma for a while. And then, once his body was done suffering through regen, he’d wake up and douse himself with cold water. It’d been a while since he’d done this routine, since he’d been so fucked up, but he still remembered those really low moments where he’d wished he just wouldn’t wake up.  

But now, now he wanted to wake up…he wanted to wake up and go and see Peter. 

That was the last thought he had before he passed out.  

When Wade finally awoke from his injured, drug assisted coma, it was about twelve hours later, and after 1 PM the next day, and he was totally healed…except for his arm only being halfway through growing his forearm. He figured his healing factor had only sped up and started working double time once everything else was done, including healing the fact that he’d almost killed himself with drugs.  

He really didn’t often help his situation. He was quite systematically self-destructive. It honestly amazed him sometimes that his healing factor could keep up with the some of the stupid shit he’d pulled over the years. And oh boy, had he put it to the test sometimes.  

But he couldn’t be doing stupid shit like that anymore, not if he was going to be in a relationship again. Even Vanessa had nagged him about the fact that letting himself get shot just because he could, was a dumb fucking thing to do...and he’d still done it sometimes –a fuck lot-, she just hadn’t known. For obvious reasons, Peter couldn’t know either, and a partially missing limb? That was not going to fly for visiting Peter. It was entirely too soon for that.   

Moreover, it was one thing to be butt fucking ugly, it was another entirely to have one limb half grown and be butt ugly.  He didn’t want to make Peter throw up or something. That had happened before, the first time Dopinder had seen him growing back his legs. He wanted to avoid making Peter sick at all costs. Especially since the only message he’d received from Peter since he’d texted from his new, new burner phone, was a sad face. Maybe Peter was already sick; sick of his unreliability, sick of his bullshit. 

Wade felt really shitty about the sad emoji reply, it put his mood way, waaaay down. He tried not to overreact to it though, remaining calm and trying pathetically to stay hopeful.  

He’d used the cold shower to clean up shortly after he’d woken, and after changing into some civilian clothes, he’d finally contacted Weasel to get his shit relocated and to get the mess around the area cleaned up.  

But after that was done and he had to wait for an update, he felt a bit lost, because all he could think about was the potential forthcoming rejection and the hurt he would be facing, his chest hurting more and more as it played in his mind, and he suspected the actual moment where Peter told him to get lost would hurt more than the two katanas had, ripping out of his side. 

He tried to shake it off though, the negativity, because he knew a spiral starting when it was happening, and he knew he needed to try not to think about it. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He’d just face Peter when he had to. When he had all four functioning limbs and until then, he had to not freak out.  

Weasel soon called back and Wade was able to focus on something else.  

Although, he found it suspicious that Weasel, easily and without any snarky comments or sighs, agreed to get his stuff moved. But Wade didn’t question it, not right then, he just hung up and packed up the most important weapons and items that he wanted to personally take, such as Cable’s gun and his energy charged katanas and harness. And once he was done, he pulled his hoodie over his head and walked out of the roller door of the safehouse, even though half the front wall was gone. He even pulled the roller door closed, and then headed toward the general exit area of the industrial park to meet the cab he’d called for.  

After about twenty minutes, Wade was back at the apartment building he lived in. 

He had an apartment under a fake name, while also owning another two apartments in the same building, under other names as well, just in case of...you know, whatever.   

Presently, he was going up in the elevator to the top floor, the 7th floor, which was where the apartment he lived in was on. He completely ignored one of the other tenants beside him, who kept shooting him side glances. Wade was often stared at, with or without a mask, in his suit or in civvies, but when he had a mask on and people stared, he felt less inclined to put a bullet through someone’s eye socket.  

He had a mask on right then, luckily for the bitch eyeballing him.  

She got out on the 4th floor, so he had the elevator to himself for the rest of the way and once the elevator reached his floor, he hefted his heavy duffle bag onto his shoulder and he walked out of the doors, heading straight down the corridor toward his apartment, 701.  

He walked right in, having never really been one for locking his door. 

People in the building didn’t tend to come near his apartment by default anyway, so it really made no difference. Once inside, he dumped the duffle bag just inside the door, and then he kicked the door shut behind him.   

He stood for a moment looking around the apartment, which was silent and just as untidy as he remembered leaving it. Then, shifting his still growing arm so the empty lower part of his hoodie sleeve slipped out of his pocket, he pulled the sleeve up far enough to see a newer extended area of bone and tissue had grown in since he last checked. He figured in another five to six hours or so he’d probably at least have his hand back, even if the skin would still be rawer than usual, but he’d be able to glove up and go and see Peter, which was at the top of his list of things to do. 

 He sighed in frustration about having to wait, then sighed in irritation over the weird anxiety he was feeling. It wasn’t like the anxiety that usually made him want to kill himself, it was the anxiety that came with not knowing what to expect from Peter, which was so much worse actually. It was like how anxious he’d been in those first weeks after he’d broken out of Weapon X and he’d been unsure of whether to tell Vanessa he was alive. 

 The situations were so different, and so were Vanessa and Peter, and so Wade had no idea what to expect, all he knew was that he felt like a fuck up and like he was messing with Peter unintentionally and it was all just pissing him the fuck off.  

“Bastard arm.” he looked down at the empty sleeve of his incomplete limb and flopped the sleeve back and forth a bit as he spoke aloud, “Guess I’ll order Mexican and watch some shitty TV for a few hours while I wait for this fucker to grow.”  

That decided, Wade did exactly that.  

He ordered Mexican at around 4 PM and it arrived soon after, at which time he threw a $100 note at the delivery guy, called him Jeremy –for some reason he couldn't quite recall- and then slammed the door in his teenage-pimpled face. After that he kicked off his sneakers and wandered into his bathroom to take four Percocet, partially for the growing pains, mostly to get high for a short little while. Then he wandered back to the living room, grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels out of his liquor cabinet and finally he got comfortable on his messy couch in front of his unnecessarily large mounted TV and clicked his way into some K-drama, making sure to put the subtitles off.  

Finally situated, Wade only pulled his mask up until it was over his nose before he grabbed a burrito out of the bag beside him on the couch. He started eating and ‘watching’, always amused when he could actually understand certain parts. Christ, his brain was so spastic.  

After making his way through two burritos, three tacos and a torta, he was feeling very mildly spacy and high, aware of the tingling sensation in his arm and a distinctive fogginess in his mind which meant the drugs and alcohol were working, but also the food and being more relaxed. It was making his healing factor work faster, his cells going haywire even after only an hour had passed. Wade blinked unevenly under his mask, smiling a bit stupidly when he thought about being healed and going to see Peter very soon.  

Thinking of Peter, cute, sexy, strong, awkward Peter who moaned so breathily and high it was barely a sound and yet Wade could still hear it in his memory loud and clear, like it was on surround sound. Peter who was so sweet and honest and adorable and who fit under his larger body so fucking perfectly. Peter who’d kissed him back, Peter who’d tried to match how Wade had sucked on his tongue, Peter who’d arched into his bare-handed touch and come into his hand.  

Wade had tasted it when he’d been alone in Peter’s bathroom, before he’d rinsed it away...and fuck, that was probably creepy, wasn’t it? Wow. He was so fucked up. But Peter had felt so good, and he’d been so into it and Wade had wanted to lick it off his hand still fresh, but it’d seemed somehow worse to do that where Peter would see. So, he’d done it alone, his hard on had still been lingering as he’d tasted Peter’s come on his fingers, just a small taste. The flavor had been so saline, and just pleasantly bitter.  

He was so fucking pure. Wade felt like he was sullying Peter just by thinking about him.   

Shit.   

He took out the burner phone he was currently using for contact with Peter and sent a message that had nothing to do with sense and everything to do with unchecked, medicated emotions. Afterwards he dropped the burner onto the sofa beside him and finished off another taco, and not long after that, he fell asleep.   

...when you're lying with diamonds on your knees.

Chapter Text

...pile up to the ceiling?

Another two days went by without any further contact from Wade.

And Peter, well, he’d decided to brush it off, to tell himself it was fine , even as it made him feel down and annoyed and a little more hurt each day, because what could he do about it anyway? Could he really be upset about it? Wade had told him he was unreliable; Wade had warned him. And also, he knew Wade’s job was dangerous. Wade’s contract killing job, were bodies upon bodies piled up and there was always so much blood and violence and of course it made sense Wade’s phone would get messed up often.

Peter had known that, had known Wade had a dangerous job and if anything, after reading what had been available of his file, about his healing factor and the merc being basically immortal , Peter supposed he should appreciate that he didn’t have to worry about Wade being...killed, or something. The idea still made him feel very uneasy, of Wade dying, or being injured to the point where he would or should die, but didn’t? He wasn’t entirely sure how it worked actually. But ultimately, if Wade’s job meant his phone got messed up each time, but the man himself always came back in the end, Peter could...he could understand that, he could deal with it.

He sighed loudly to himself, thinking,

‘Aaaaaand the concessions just keep coming .’ because there he went again, accepting it.

He really had no idea why he liked Wade so much, nor why he was willing to just let so many things slide...

Presently, Peter was on patrol, he’d decided he’d be doing a whole day of it.

On days when he was in a particularly upset mood and feeling wired up, he would max his time out on patrol, and today was one of those days.

Of course, every spare minute between crime fighting or helping people, Wade was on his mind. But he reasoned with himself that maybe that was because things were still new between them.

“That’s probably why I feel so annoyed too.” there had to be a reason he felt so clingy and upset about not getting any texts, right? He made a face under his mask, feeling so stupid and ridiculous. He was sitting almost right at the top of the One Bryant Park building, lying at an angle on the slanting part of the structure, feet stuck soundly to the glass as he scrolled through his social media on his phone. He’d done plenty as Spider-Man that day, having even sorted out many of the minor tasks he’d usually let good samaritans or the police handle. He’d just kept himself busy, busy, busy. Distracted.

Trying not to think about Wade was really difficult though. Trying not to think of Wade being injured –even if he healed fast-, trying not to think of Wade killing people, especially people who were maybe just collateral damage or minions. Trying not to think of the photo screenshotted and saved in his gallery on his phone, the one of the beautiful woman, with the guy who was definitely Wade from the past. Trying not to think of the fact that he didn’t know what now-Wade fully looked like. He didn’t know now-Wade that well at all actually, which made it difficult not to think of May asking if Wade was cheating, because that really didn’t seem possible because of Wade’s skin issues, but Peter didn’t know him so well, so how could he know for absolutely sure?

In movies and on TV and even in real life, relationships where partners traveled for work almost always had some sort of infidelity. Funnily enough, Peter hadn’t ever worried about MJ cheating on him, but thinking about it right then, he couldn’t say why. MJ was attractive and smart and confident, and despite being intimidating in personality sometimes, she could very easily have found someone besides him at any time.

It hadn’t even occurred to Peter that maybe she’d broken up with him because she’d met someone new?

He was frowning as he went onto Instagram and tapped his way into MJ’s IG, starting to look through her latest posts...and then stopping himself because it wasn’t his business! He tapped back out, paused, and then tapped his way into weaselneverwins69’ s account. Wade was his business after all, since they were dating or whatever. Even so, weaselneverwins69’s profile had no new posts at all, not since the ‘not a vacation’ post, so Peter tapped out of the profile and his IG altogether and sighed, knocking his head lightly back against the building and staring up at the dark sky,

He hated how relationships were so stressful in the beginning, where the person you liked was all you could think of. Or at least, that’s how it was for him. First Liz, then MJ and now Wade. Wade, Wade, Wade. Peter still hadn’t seen his face, even though they’d kissed and touched. He bit his lip under his mask, remembering how quickly he’d become lost under Wade’s touch, how good it had felt, Wade’s kisses and his hands and the weight of his body...

Crap. Peter sighed in frustration, closing his eyes –and his mask’s eyes- before shaking his head.

“This is not the time to be thinking about that .” he muttered to himself, not wanting the low heat gathering in his abdomen to turn into an erection in his tight suit. That would be awkward, even if no one was around to see it. As it was, he could feel himself blushing under his mask.

“Think about something else!” he said a bit louder, since absolutely no one could hear him all the way up there, and then he decided to distract himself with his phone again, opening his music app and scrolling through the songs in his playlist. There weren’t very many, Peter wasn’t a music lover really, but he didn’t mind music. Wade loved music though...

He didn’t even hold back the sigh that time as Wade entered his mind again.

Recent memories quickly formed of Wade singing and dancing, singing lyrics and changing the gender pronoun intentionally to match with Peter being a guy. It made him smile like an idiot every time and even right then. He remembered then that Wade had set a ringtone to his caller I.D, a caller I.D that would no longer work unless Wade recovered that number, but the song was still on his phone, so Peter navigated to the folder and he played it.

There was a very catchy guitar intro, it sounded nice and Peter found himself crossing one leg over the bent-up knee of the other and starting to move his foot to the rhythm, and then he started quietly repeating ‘thunder’ with the singers as the song built up, eventually going quiet again and just listening as the vocalist started singing. He was still smiling under his mask, because Clint was right, the song was by ACDC, the name said so in his files, and it reminded him now of both Tony and Wade.

Ultimately though, Peter didn’t know much about ACDC or any music from that general era. Heck, he only knew some pop music because it was often played on TV or in the stores, or on the phones of other students on campus. He exited out of the song and went back to his music app, typing in a search for an 80s music playlist. And after listening to a few songs, one after the other, he was surprised to find he actually kind of liked the 80s vibe of the different songs.

He got lost in it for a little while, discovering some songs he’d heard before at some point, even though he hadn’t known the song or singers. He found some more interesting than others, with lyrics which reminded him of Wade and soon he was making his own playlist.

His spider sense was pinging here and there, but Peter usually ignored the smaller twinges of his spider sense because it was often alerting him to very small things that could be handled quite easily by normal people. And he’d been taking care of that stuff all day anyway, like he’d used to back when he’d first been doing his Spider-Man thing. But as the years passed, he’d come to understand that his senses would let him know when something serious was happening, so that he could go where he was really needed instead of somewhere with a minor incident.

It was late afternoon by that time, so Peter would only respond to his spider sense picking up on the serious stuff, which more often than not would go down as evening fell and later at night. The only people who did major level crimes in broad daylight were bad guys with super powers or super tech. So, at night when attacks of that nature were more likely to occur, Peter liked to make sure he was available if anything major went down.

Nothing happened though, even as time ticked on close to 7 PM.

But just after seven, when he was starting to get hungry, while distractedly compiling a nice 80s playlist, a message came through...from a number he didn’t know. His stomach flipped pleasantly, because he just knew it was from Wade and he was about to open the message, but then his spider sense suddenly surged from a flat state to a full throttle alarm, making him sit upright abruptly as everything slowed down around him. All of his focus honed in on where he needed to go. His whole body was vibrating with it, the urgency, which meant it was bad.

A few tense seconds later, Peter whipped his head around to look North-westerly. It was quite some distance away, maybe Sunnyside or Greenpoint-

Before the thought even finished, Peter saw a huge, rising flash and glow of multiple blue energy beams, and then came the delayed sound of explosions far in the distance.

Dammit! The blue energy guy was back!

Peter was slipping his phone into his concealed pocket and running to leap off the building before the first explosion sounds had faded.

It was the same guy, no surprise there, and he was in Greenpoint, which by webbing hadn’t been too much of a distance to cover, but every second counted because the jerk was actively attacking that time. And in an area with apartment buildings! So, no matter how fast he swung there, it still felt longer than Peter would have liked to web all the way to Brooklyn, and now, as he landed on the roof of a low building and looked at the fires and rubble and people screaming as they ran out of their apartment buildings, Peter’s chest tightened with anger and stress, breathing accelerating.

Another blue beam lanced down the street, hitting cars and causing more destruction and Peter moved fast, shooting webs at a few people, managing to yank them out of the way, before he leaped and shot another web out, swinging directly toward the culprit, leg outstretched, ready to kick him across the damn street and hopefully knock him out cold.

But it wasn’t going to be that easy, because somehow, just as he spotted Peter swinging in, the guy phased out. He just vanished, like last time!

Peter landed on the front of the building his swinging arc brought him to and he stood up sideways, perpendicular to the building, whipping his head around to see or sense where the guy had gone. How the hell was he vanishing like that!?

Peter hated it. He’d been right there, how the hell had he just disappeared!

He didn’t see the guy anywhere for the moment, and he could only assume he’d bailed like last time.

“Damn it!” Peter hissed, and then he realized he was shaking with anger and he made a point to take in a few calming breaths, trying to control his anger. Getting angry wasn’t going to help anyone.

Instead, he turned his attention to helping people who were still scattered and rushing out of the damaged apartment buildings. He ran along the building and then jumped and swung down until he was on the ground with them.

He instructed his AI to call for ambulances just in case no one was on their way yet, and he immediately set out helping people, going quickly into the damaged buildings on the two-block stretch and helping to get some people, and even some trapped pets, out. He moved rubble and carried some people, helping those who were injured by the explosions or the rubble and also checking on those burned by the fires. He couldn’t do much about the wounds though, but that was what the ambulances would be for.

He’d been helping people for about fifteen minutes when his spider sense kicked up and Peter reacted with barely enough time to grab the person he was helping, ducking out of the way as three narrower energy beams –seemingly coming from nowhere- traveled destructively across the place he’d just been standing.

Landing to the side, Peter hastily urged away the woman he’d been helping, saying,

“Run, ma’am, run now!” before he himself took off running in a different direction, his spider sense continuing to send shocks through his body. He moved quickly in the direction where things were already damaged but people had been cleared out and as expected, beams of energy followed him, ripping through and destroying more of the infrastructure around him.

“How the hell is he doing that!?” Peter hissed in frustration, because he couldn't see the guy anywhere, and his energy beams seemed to be coming from nowhere. Peter leapt high and turned in midair, dodging another series of narrow, hot energy beams as he said, “Karen, how’s he doing this?” and he swept his gaze over the area, letting the AI scan what he could see, before shooting out a web and swinging to land on the nearest building. The beams had stopped coming for a moment, but he counted himself lucky that he’d decided to wear his integrated Stark suit that day, because with all the incomplete upgrades in his new suit, he wouldn’t have been able to access Karen, who had limited, but still useful, access to more of E.D.I.T.H’s features.

As he waited for Karen to scan and analyze the area, he was listening to the distant sounds of approaching ambulances and he could hear his own too loud breathing. It just seemed oddly quiet, or maybe his senses were hyper focused. He didn’t like fighting things he couldn’t grab a hold of...

Now the guy was no longer shooting beams at him, and he still couldn’t be seen and Peter had assumed the guy had followed him away from the people, but he was starting to worry because his spider sense kept zipping up and down his spine but nothing was happening, not to him or anywhere else.

“Come on, Karen, come on.” he muttered.

Karen said and Peter whispered ‘great, go ahead’ before he listened,

“That’s the reason why the size of his energy beams are inconsistent.” Peter mumbled to himself.

So, it all depended on what source of energy he was drawing from. People and organic sources, but probably mostly machinery and other manmade energy sources within the city.

“How’s he concealing himself?” he asked, tone curt and angrier as he asked that question, because he despised anything that messed with his head and sight, he hated illusions and tricks .

“Mutant?” Peter frowned, “Not mutate or a human with alien tech?” he started moving again, running along the building, jumping, swinging along the street, looking around, spider senses still humming all over his skin but everything too quiet.

“No, no, it’s fine. Sucks though, means I can’t even stop his vanishing ac-!” Peter was surprised when his spider sense went from 90% to 120 in a flat second, only being able to react right as the very ground beneath him exploded upward. He half flipped and was half thrown away from the massive explosion that came straight out of the ground, landing on the nearest damaged building’s surface and immediately going into a defensive crouch.

“What the hell!?” why had his spider sense reacted so late? It made Peter panic a little. He needed his damned senses to work! The explosion had been massive and quite destructive, leaving a massive gaping hole in the tar and concrete, but there were no flames, just water gushing and exposed piping.

Kinetic energy, right? There were so many things above and beneath the ground that could create kinetic energy, or already was, and if this guy was harnessing it somehow, it made so many things a weapon for him to use. The gears of Peter’s mind were turning as he kept moving so he wouldn’t get caught unawares again, but he also made sure to keep the fight as far from the people who’d evacuated as possible, as well as keep the damage to the same area energy beam guy had already messed up.

The attacks stalled for more than a minute as Peter moved, using his AI to scan the area as he looked around.

“How pointless would it be to ask you to list all potential and active kinetic energy sources in the area?” he asked his AI, somewhat rhetorically, as he swung and landed on another building.

Peter almost rolled his eyes at his AI being so serious, but that was his fault, he’d reduced the AI’s personality functions almost completely after Tony died. He didn’t answer, focusing on the situation around him, annoyed that even the damn fires caused by the explosions had a certain amount of kinetic energy.

“Man, what is this guy’s deal?” he moved to run and jump again, but then his spider sense alerted him just in time to dodge away before blue energy beams blasted the windows and brick out of the spot on the building he’d been standing on.

Peter didn’t get a chance to settle again after that, the beams started to come at him fast and hard and from many directions in different sizes and at different strengths. Peter was able to dodge the beams themselves, but more than once he got caught by some flying debris. The only good thing was, with so much active use of beam power, Peter was finally able to catch a few more glimpses of the guy attacking him. And Karen was collecting the data as Peter ducked and dodged and tried to get closer to the guy.

But he kept using his ability to control the beams right from wherever their energy force was being created, which meant they didn’t actually have to come from him and he could keep Peter at a good distance. It was frustrating as hell!

Annoyed by having the fight dragged out and getting hit by stray rubble, Peter decided to try to go in head on...but that turned out to be a bad idea. Apparently beam guy had been saving the worst of it for when Peter moved in, because the ten or so beams that cross-trapped him in their movements were more powerful than any before, and he only managed to dodge a few. As for the rest, they hit and blasted, seared and bounced him around until he hit the ground rolling, body instantly aching where he’d been hit and his skin sorely hot.

At least the integrated suit was fire proof.

Peter grunted as he got to his feet, feeling disoriented even though he shouldn’t have been. But something about the scenario was tripping him up and he knew it had something to do with the vanishing act and the rush of beam attacks. His memories of things attacking him from places he couldn’t determin-

His spider sense ramped up again, and Peter let his senses guide him into ducking and dodging, and with his voice modulator activated, he said loudly in the direction of the blue energy guy,

“Hey, you think you could chill for a second, buddy, and we can talk about this!?” he flipped and ducked another strong beam, more debris catching him after it hit, causing enough damage to that particular part of the building that a large chunk of it crumbled and collapsed to the pavement below.

The guy on the ground was moving his hands in random wide motions as beams chased Peter, who was keeping his movements more or less within a two-block radius. He heard the guy make a sound in response, but it wasn’t clear what he said...but honestly, it didn’t sound particularly normal, or human, even though the guy looked human.

Karen informed him.

And Peter had been able to see it in how frantic the guy’s movements were becoming, how wide his eyes were, but he was glad to have it confirmed. His own stamina still had a long way to go before it started to slow him down, so he waited, ducked and dodged and planned.

And it paid off too, when a few beams tapered off, much weaker and they didn’t make it to Peter. That was when he took a shot at swooping in, shooting webs that almost snared the guy, but he disappeared just before they reached him. But he reappeared quickly, and much closer and Peter was able to get a good look at his panicked face right as he jumped down to close the distance between them, moving too quickly for the guy to dodge or disappear again, Peter flipped forward and landed a kick to the guy’s chest.

He took the hit and went down hard, skidding and rolling, and then he disappeared again before Peter had even taken another step toward him. Peter squinted his eyes as he looked around, having noted that after that single kick, blue energy guy had looked injured, despite Peter’s kick not using much more than a normal level of force. He never knew how much force an enemy could take from him, so he always held back initially to get a feel for what they could withstand. This guy didn’t seem to be able to take even a normal hit too well.

“You’re tired. man, just give it up!’ Peter said loudly, “I don’t want to hurt you.” and it was true, he didn’t, but his voice modulator was making him sound deeper and more aggressive.

Peter couldn’t see him, but he knew he was still around because his spider sense was still zipping up and down his spine and the entire area seemed to move slowly yet highly in focus as he looked around. It was a little concerning that the guy was still making his senses so edgy when he was so worn down, Peter couldn’t help thinking that was a very bad thing.

And he was right, because when the guy appeared again, a greater distance away, he was flickering somehow, his skin lighting up and he was phasing in and out and he looked distinctly like he was drawing in energy. Worse still, Peter’s spider sense did it again, going from a steady warning buzz to a full-blown cacophony right when energy beams ripped through the two buildings directly on either side of him, and then debris was raining down like a concrete avalanche right toward Peter.

But he wasn’t a kid anymore, and he was already moving. No one was going to trap him under any god damned rubble so easily. His spider sense worked and he’d honed his reflexes and he was also really pissed off by how much injury and damage this guy had caused, not even counting the burn of his own skin and the ache of his shoulder, ribs and right leg. The fact that this guy had hurt so many people earlier and had damaged so much property and he was presently shooting more beams at Peter even as the rubble fell...

Peter clenched his jaw, breathing deeply but evenly as he dodged with his spider sense and reflexes and shattered rubble with his punches and kicks and ignored any pain until he was out of the danger zone of falling concrete. And thankfully beam guy seemed to run out of steam then too, backpedaling as Peter got nearer and nearer.

Peter anticipated that he was about to phase out again, so he shot out two webs to catch the larger part of a broken traffic light pole off the damaged sidewalk, which he yanked towards himself forcefully. He caught it and saw the guy panic and start to gather energy again. He looked much weaker than before though, so Peter didn’t change his plan. He did a quick balance of the pole‘s weight, getting a good sticky grip of it, before turning once to swing the long pole, releasing it with a good and slow, but heavy, spinning momentum, just as blue energy guy launched new beams.

But what happened next surprised and alarmed Peter.

He’d expected the beams to take out the pole and for energy guy to be too weak to phase out again, but the beams were weaker than Peter thought, but also more than Peter had thought the guy could manage after such a long drawn out fight. So, when the beams only took out part of the pole, several large chunks of it still actually made it to the guy. One large piece in particular hit him and knocked him back harshly which had Peter worried he’d injured the guy too severely. But it got worse when one of the stray beams managed to hit the corner of a building fairly high up, which sent a cascade of rubble tumbling down just as an ambulance, coming from where the evacuated civilians were, was driving by.

It all happened so fast, and even though Peter turned immediately and started to run toward the ambulance, shooting webs out to try to catch the rubble, a few large chunks had already hit the front and top of the vehicle, making the ambulance siren cut out abruptly and the vehicle jar and halt abruptly to a stop as cement noisily crashed into metal and glass.

“Oh my god, oh my god, nonono.” Peter reached the vehicle with a running leap and the moment he landed he grabbed and tossed the rubble aside, where most of it had fallen on the front of the truck. Immediately he started shaking when his brain registered the sight of the crushed-dead ambulance driver, his throat closing up with guilty-panic and his eyes starting to burn.

But he didn’t let the sight of a dead body stop him from rushing around to the back of the ambulance, after all, it wasn’t his first time seeing a dead body on patrol. It never got easier, but it happened all the same. Peter yanked the ambulance doors clean off and tossed them aside, both relieved and not when he saw an unconscious woman lying half on a stretcher, the impact having probably dislodged her body, but she seemed otherwise unhurt by the rubble. But the other emergency responder was lying on the ground beside the stretcher, and some rubble that had broken through the roof had fallen on top of him. He was obviously dead, but his body was lying over a child, who he’d probably been protecting. The child started crying just then, when he saw Peter, and Peter’s ears started ringing as his guilt-panic worsened.

He moved on autopilot, climbing into the back of the ambulance, ears ringing all the while as he removed the dead body of the emergency responder, as gently as he could, off the kid before he picked the little boy up. The child was wailing, Peter could see it, but couldn’t hear it, not until he was getting out of the ambulance and the sirens of another ambulance broke through his numb spell and then there was just so much noise.

He remained on autopilot as another emergency responder took the child from him, and another two rushed past him to get into the damaged ambulance so they could check on the woman on the stretcher. And when Peter...Spider-Man, was being ignored by the emergency personnel and he was no longer needed, he took off at a run and leapt up.

As he climbed the mostly undamaged building, from which the corner of debris had been knocked off of, he cast his senses out and found that there was no danger anymore...blue energy guy was gone. He’d injured and killed people and now he was just gone! Peter moved faster, leaping and pulling himself faster up the building until he was flipping over the roof ledge and immediately falling into a furious pace as he screamed out,

“Dammit!” in a hoarse voice that sounded weird through his modulator. The sob that followed sounded even weirder.

Peter kicked the ground and sucked in air through his teeth, grabbing at the mask seam that appeared at his neck to push his mask up over his nose so he could gulp in air, in order to avoid a panic attack or hyperventilation. It’d happened before, on bad days like right then, when people died and he was indirectly responsible for it. It happened when the bad guys got away, when they set out to hurt innocent people and then left like it was nothing.

He hated it.

He cursed a few more times, but he didn’t cry and managed not to have a panic attack. He’d come a long way and knew how to calm himself down. Although, it’d been a while since someone had died on his patrol due to something he did wrong, so his headspace wasn’t great. and he already knew from the tightness in his throat and chest, and the tension thrumming through his entire body, that he wasn’t going to get much sleep in the nights to come, and his appetite would take a knock.

It’d happened before. It’d happen again. It was the life that he’d chosen. He was still shaking.

He needed to find something that would make the entire situation have been worth something! Peter rushed and jumped back off the building, catching himself on a web and swinging until he was in the area where the traffic light pole had landed.

“Scan for blood.” he told his AI, voice modulator still active, making him sound low and tense. He watched through his lenses as the scan commenced, turned his head to look around so the AI could hopefully find something. After two minutes the screen indicated success and Karen said;

Peter was already crouching down by the small, still wet splotch of blood half smeared on a piece of concrete. He was no expert but he assumed it may have been spit up blood. The guy had been hit by a piece of the pole, definitely hard enough to make him bleed somehow. Peter recognized a darker part of him feeling satisfied that he’d injured the guy enough to make him bleed, but he tried to ignore it as he quickly looked around for something he could use to collect blood. He needed to move fast before the police got past all the rubble and flooded the scene.

He looked up at the buildings around him, they were apartments, and while a lot of the buildings were heavily damaged, some parts were still intact. Peter shot out a web and entered the nearest building through a massive, gaping hole in the front and he was quick to find the bathroom of whatever apartment he’d ended up in.

“Sorry, sorry, whoever’s place this is.” he apologized out aloud to no one as he looked through drawers and cabinets until he found a container of Q-tips and a first aid kit. He grabbed the Q-tips first, then opened the kit and grabbed a sealed plastic baggie of gauze.

Peter hurried to stick and jump back down to the ground again, glancing around to ascertain how far the police were from getting through all the rubble.

“Okay...” he said to himself as he crouched down by the sample, where he carefully opened the container of Q-tips and took two out. He got enough blood on the two Q-tips and then he opened the gauze baggie and shook the gauze out so he could put the Q-tips in the baggie. Running his index and thumb along the zip seal to close it, he mumbled, “That should be fine, right?”

Peter hadn’t actually been asking his AI, because he already knew that, but he thanked her anyway and then he was moving again, leaving the scene with his blood sample collected. On top of the building he landed on next, he stood for a moment looking down at the growing crowd of emergency response services and police, as well as news crews. His chest still hurt, but he was glad he’d at least gotten a blood sample out of all the mess and trouble, which he put into his concealed pocket for safe keeping as he turned away from the scene below.

As he walked across the roof in the general direction of Queens from Brooklyn, he made a mental note to add some kind of compact DNA collecting device to his new suit. He could utilize the waist area for more than just web cartridges after all and it’d come in handy.

“It’s an idea, could work.” he said to himself, and he sniffed softly, just before he started running into leaping off the building, shooting out a web to swing home.

He reached home ten minutes later, landing on the wall beside his bedroom window a bit harder than he’d have preferred, but his ribs were bruised and his leg was hurting and super-strength or no, it still hurt to put a strain on injuries. He was upside down above the window and he stuck his fingers to the glass and pulled it up all the way before balancing on the wall and flipping down into his room.

Once he was inside, he let out a breath, sniffed again and pulled his mask off with one hand while pulling the window closed with the other. His eyes felt sore and his emotions were running a little high, his body aching and his mouth felt dry, like he was dehydrated. He tossed his mask aside, onto his desk chair and ran a gloved hand roughly over his face and up into his hair as he walked through his dark room.

He didn’t need to switch the lights on, so he didn’t, making his way toward the kitchen easily in the relative dark of the apartment. It was early for him to have called off his patrol, since it was probably only around 10 PM, but after blue energy guy, Peter knew his headspace was no good to keep going. He'd already messed up enough when he’d thrown that damn traffic light pole. It'd been reckless, especially since he’d known the guy he was fighting had been worn down.

And then there was the fact that he no longer felt bad about hurting the guy.

He grimaced slightly to himself, thinking of how crappy the night had turned out, as he walked into the kitchen and over to his refrigerator, pulling the door open as he reached back to his concealed pocket. He pulled out the baggie with the Q-tips and placed it in the shelf of the fridge, before leaning down and checking the temperature dial. He’d have to go to the Avenger’s Mansion the next day to use the lab facilities. Even if he didn’t get a hit on identity, he could at least confirm whether he was dealing with a mutant and maybe figure out what else was going on with the guy physiologically.

Peter closed the fridge door, sighing heavily as he took his phone out next, shifting and rolling his sore shoulders a bit in a futile attempt to relieve some of the ache and tension. He sniffed, blinked his eyes as his bright screen lit up, and then he saw a small notification of an unread message at the top left corner of his screen and he recalled that Wade had sent him a message right before blue energy guy had shown up.

Peter swallowed a lump that swelled in his throat as he thought of Wade, and how much he’d like to see him right then. He stared at the unread notice and hesitated to read the message. In the beginning of his relationship with MJ, he’d usually call her on a bad night, or she’d come over by herself after seeing him on the news and she’d just sit with him, he’d lie with his head in her lap and it’d be comforting.

But as time had progressed, and victims of murder and rape and violence and mounting nightmares had started to weigh him down, Peter had stopped calling her...had started to text her to tell her he was fine before she could come over.

He sniffed again, eyes burning. He had no idea what it would be like with Wade. Maybe it was better to never find out whether he’d be comforting to have around on a bad night, so when Wade eventually got tired of it or Peter started to push him away, he’d never have to find out what it was like to lose that comfort.

He sniffed again, cleared his throat, considered not reading the message, leaving it for tomorrow. That idea made his chest ache just as badly as the idea of reading it and finding out Wade was still going to be away longer.

“Ugh, shit.” Peter sniffed again, sliding a hand up into his hair and gripping it a little too tight, but then he remembered how Wade had stopped him from doing it the last time they’d seen each other and slowly, he eased his grip. He was shaking again, the phone made it visible as he still held it up, screen lit, that little notification waiting to be dropped down and read.

Taking in a fortifying breath, trying to prepare himself for bad news, Peter dropped the message down...and saw that it was not a message, but a link. He clicked into it and immediately it redirected him to a song, which started playing quite loudly through the small speakers of his phone in his quiet kitchen. Peter could only blink and feel both frustrated and fond at Wade sending him a song link, and then he could only feel more frustrated and start to blush as Micheal Jackson’s, The Way You Make Me Feel played out.

Peter tiredly turned and leaned back against his counter, keeping his eyes closed for a moment and pressing his fingers and thumb into them as he tried not to cry or smile. He felt so tired. And the stupid song was exhausting him even more emotionally. What was the point of sending a song without a message?

Peter dropped his hand from his face and stared down at the screen as the first chorus ended and before the second verse could start, he exited the link and walked out of the kitchen, heading back to his bedroom so he could take a shower and go to sleep. Completely forgetting about eating anything and also not bothering to answer Wade’s stupid song link.

After showering and brushing his teeth, Peter got dressed in a pair of blue boxers and a white sleeping shirt, and still feeling dehydrated, he made one last trip to the kitchen to drink a bottle of water before going back to his room and flopping onto his unmade double bed.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply when his slowly healing bruises and cuts ached, but he ignored them. He wouldn’t take any pain meds or try to stop the pain in any way, because he felt he deserved the injuries. After all, he’d wake up the next day without any pain and sometimes not even a scar, but the people who’d been injured would still be in pain or in hospital, and those who’d died that night would still be dead.

He sniffed where he lied on his back, more or less in the middle of his bed, staring up at the ceiling through sandy eyes, running a hand up into his damp hair and just barely keeping himself from clenching his fist. He had no idea when he’d sleep, or if he even would. And he expected he’d probably have nightmares, but he wasn’t sure whether they’d be about that kid in the ambulance ending up dead, or about Beck messing with his head and getting him run over by a train.

Sometimes one nightmare would lead into another unrelated one.

Another sniff, a thick swallow, Peter’s chest ached. But he didn’t cry.

Stripped of all their meaning...

He just lied there. And lied there. Occasionally shifting his legs and at one point pulling the bed covers up over most of his body. His eyes drifted closed sometimes...but then they would snap open for no other reason than his restless and stressed mind.

He had no idea how much time passed, but it was definitely well after midnight when Peter, now lying on his side, half curled up in his rumpled bedding with his face mostly buried in his bunched-up pillow, heard the soft sound of two knocks on his bedroom window.

He turned his head just enough so that half of his face wasn’t pressed into the pillow and he opened one bloodshot eye to look at his window. It was on the same wall that the head of his bed was set up against, so he couldn't see outside, but he hadn’t locked it when he’d shut it earlier, and he knew there was only one person it would be...so he waited, didn’t move a muscle, just waited.

Sure enough, he partially saw, but mostly heard as his window was being slid up and opened, and then one dark gloved hand eased in to push the curtain aside more, followed by a long, jean clad leg. Wade didn’t seem to be trying to be particularly quiet, and once his booted foot was on the ground, he was ducking into the window and pulling himself through and inside completely. Peter noticed he had a food package with him, he could smell the Mexican before he even saw the food bag itself.

He still didn’t move, just watched Wade, able to see him quite well in the dark. Well enough to see that he was fully covered up as usual, but it seemed he’d dropped a single layer. This time he was only wearing a hoodie, probably over a T-shirt, with jeans and boots and his mask and gloves. No coat.

Only after Wade had the window halfway closed again, did the merc notice him in the bed, or at least he noticed the shape of Peter, because he seemed to stiffen in surprise and then he proceeded to move around very quietly, like he didn’t want to risk waking Peter up.

‘I guess his eyesight isn’t super.’ Peter thought sleepily, remaining still as Wade moved slowly around in the dark, feeling his way carefully toward the desk.

Peter noted that Wade seemed to remember where it was at least, because he was actually totally quiet now that he was trying to be, and he moved quite smoothly. He carefully set the food bag down on the desk, the paper bag barely crinkling. He’d only been there once...or wait, twice, if Peter counted the first time when Wade had been inside his apartment without his express permission, but he seemed certain of his movements. Certain enough that if Peter had been deeply enough asleep, and since Wade didn’t trigger his spider sense, it was possible Wade would have been able to sneak in without him knowing. That was something to note, possibly something that should have made him feel nervous. Well, it didn’t. It was more interesting to note that Wade was good at being stealthy when he tried.

Wade was leaning over the desk now and Peter frowned, watching as he shifted papers around. His heart rate ticked up for a moment, his paranoia and all of the negative things people had said about Wade so far making him wonder what Wade was looking for. He didn’t move though, because he trusted Wade. He didn’t believe Wade was using him or messing with him or...

Wade seemed to have found a mostly blank piece of paper and then he plucked three pens out of Peter’s stationery cup and he pulled the lids off. Peter squinted through the dark as he watched Wade writing, or maybe drawing something, with quite a bit of concentration...in the dark.

‘Is he leaving me a note?’ he wondered, and it made sense, Wade had also left him a note last time. He felt relieved then, and stupid, for even thinking Wade was up to something bad. People’s opinions of Wade were starting to get to him. He needed to stop letting that happen!

Deciding he’d let Wade’s considerate, but futilely quiet, adventure go on long enough, he parted his dry lips and asked,

“What are you doing?” his voice a sleepy croak. To Wade’s credit, he didn’t startle. But he did whip around with his white mask eyes wide, to look at Peter, who still hadn’t moved,

“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you, Baby Boy.” he said in a whisper, and even though it was unnecessary, Peter thought it was silly and endearing, “I thought you’d be finished patrol or something around this time, so I came over with some food.” he tossed the pens to the side, in the general direction of the desk, in the same way Peter had seen him carelessly throw other things. And two of the pens rolled onto the floor, but he said nothing, honestly not caring much about it, “But I saw you sleeping and figured I’d leave you a note and we could see each other tomorrow,” he paused and then added, “if you wanted to.”

Peter sighed softly and lazily reached a hand out from under the covers,

“Lemme see the note.” he mumbled, making grabby fingers, and he watched as Wade did a double take to the note on the desk. He swore Wade felt embarrassed by how he hesitated to pick it up before he walked over to the bed and held it out. Peter plucked it from his gloved hand and turned it around so he could see it.

It was a picture. Not a note. More specifically, it was a cartoonish drawing in black, blue and red ink, of a half drawn, but coloured in, Deadpool with white heart shaped mask eyes, holding out what Peter assumed was meant to be an undetailed taco, to a half drawn and half coloured cartoon Spider-Man, who had closed eyes and little zees floating up from his head.

Peter had to admit he liked it instantly and he was definitely going to keep it. The tightness in his chest was easing for the first time in hours too, his stomach fluttering a bit and feeling less tense. He kind of loved how ridiculous Wade was, how cheesy but sincere he could be and seeing him there, right then, made a week of shitty feelings ease away.

Peter stretched his arm out to place the drawing down on his nightstand, over his phone and some empty web cartridges, and then he extended his hand again and made grabby fingers at Wade. Again, Wade seemed to hesitate, his mask eyes conveying his surprise, but then he came closer and reached out with his gloved hand to take Peter’s.

That was not enough. Not what Peter wanted.

He gripped Wade’s hand and used just enough of his strength to pull Wade closer and down, so he had to sit down on the bed, settling a bit heavily since Peter had essentially dragged him down. Peter mumbled an apology but reached his hand out again to lightly curl into the front of Wade’s black hoodie. His sleepiness and the pleasant easing of the weight in his chest was making him bolder and making him want physical contact,

“Can you lie down with me?” he asked, and then remembered to ask, “If that’s okay with you?” because it wasn’t just about him. Usually, in his life, it felt like it was never okay for it to be about him. So, yeah, he liked how Wade would make it feel like it was all about him, and he wanted that right then, so badly. But in turn, he would make it about Wade too. It could be about them , together.

He knew his tone of voice was off though, a little emotional, still croaky, and Wade noticed, Peter saw how his masked brow lowered into a frown,

“Yeah, I can do that, Pete.” he said without argument, and Peter waited for a moment as Wade moved, then paused, remembering to kick his boots off. Then he shifted again, doing something Peter wasn’t sure of, before leaning over and setting something down on the floor. All the while though, he was moving in a way that accommodated the fact that Peter hadn’t let go of his hoodie, and then finally, he turned and lied down next to Peter.

Then they were lying side by side, on a bed for the first time and it felt different, yet not strange, Peter felt quite comfortable actually. Wade had his head propped up on an elbow, the distance between them just half the length of Peter’s arm where his hand was still holding onto the front of Wade’s hoodie. Peter shifted then as well, a bit sluggishly, so that he was lying properly on his side and he sniffed softly, meeting Wade’s masked eyes from the lower angle. He’d adjusted enough to the dark of the room that he could make out Wade’s mask quite clearly, but he had no idea how well Wade could see him.

“You okay, Pete?” Wade asked, sounding genuinely worried. Peter sniffed again, then inhaled and let his eyes close briefly as he smelled soap, copper, faint Mexican food and...faint alcohol too, on Wade.

“Bad night.” he answered vaguely, distracted by wondering where Wade had been before coming to see him.

“What happened?” Wade asked, sounding somewhat threatening now. Of course, it was not aimed at Peter, who tried to shrug as he released his grip on the merc’s hoodie and instead started to play with one drawstring,

“Blue energy guy.” he mumbled, mind wandering sleepily, wondering if Wade had been in a bar. And wondering if Wade would mind if he moved closer, much closer. It didn’t escape his notice how tensely Wade was lying, like he didn’t want to take up too much space. Like he didn’t want to touch. He could be so confusing.

But Peter knew he was also confusing sometimes. For one thing, he had once been a tactile person, with no one to be tactile with, then he’d had a girlfriend and his desire for tactility had been inconsistent. Now he had Wade, and he suddenly wanted to touch and be touched a lot more, not even necessarily sexually, but yeah, that too, but he didn’t know how to make that clear to Wade, that he could touch Peter freely.

It was difficult too, not to get frustrated, because Wade made him feel wanted in a pretty intense way and Peter didn’t even know how, since Wade himself was so evasive to touch. It was all so weird, because he felt like they both wanted more than they could get or give right away, and they were trying to fit their pieces together as best they could, waiting for all the edges to line up, to click into place.

Wow, Peter wasn’t used to thinking so metaphorically or so deeply. It was giving him a headache.

“-hurt you? If he did, I can go track him down right now and I’ll extract all of his fucking teeth through his assh-"

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Peter cut Wade off with a quiet but sure tone. And it was the truth, but it had also been the problem toward the end of his last relationship. MJ had told him talking was good, but he didn’t want to talk about his anger, his frustration, his recklessness, his temper and his failures. But maybe it wasn’t the same with Wade. Wade was not unfamiliar with what Peter saw on the streets on a daily basis, he was not unused to death and violence...

Maybe Peter could talk, just a little.

“Alright, you don’t gotta talk.” Wade said, sounding absolutely accepting of it. Peter swallowed sorely, and yeah, he felt relieved. Maybe he’d talk some other time. Wade didn’t seem to mind, he didn’t sound like he minded at all. “Heh, your hair is such a mess right now, it’s fucking adorable.” he commented apropos of nothing, and Peter looked up into Wade’s mask from where he’d been watching the lace of the hoodie drawstring wrap around his finger.

He knew just how bad his bedhead could be, it was sometimes Super Saiyan levels of ridiculous, but Wade... Wade liked it. Unintentionally, for a split second, Peter couldn’t help wondering about Wade’s hair from before his mutation, which led to him picturing the man in the picture in his phone gallery, before-Wade, with the short miliary crew cut. That haircut suited his face-

Peter blinked his sandy eyes and dropped his gaze back to the drawstring, swallowing tensely and immediately feeling guilty and annoyed for thinking of that picture, not just right then, but every and any time he did. Because he wanted to think of Wade in the present, how he looked right then, not how he’d looked over a decade ago.

That man in the picture wasn’t the Wade lying in bed with him right then.

“Did you get back from your job today?” he asked quietly, changing the subject and looking up at Wade again. Wade’s brow rose under his mask,

“More or less.” he answered vaguely. And Peter hated it. He wished Wade would just be honest and forthcoming with him, he really liked honesty. He wondered if maybe he should be more honest himself, maybe Wade would get it then.

He didn’t though, say anything particularly honest, instead he asked,

“Why’d you send me that Michael Jackson song?” his voice still a little rough, but less sleepy.

Wade took in a deliberate and audible breath and then chuckled in this guilty, sheepish way, the eyes of his mask amazingly becoming little moon crescents. It still fascinated Peter how his mask did that.

“See, well, I was, uh...heh, funny story.” he said ‘funny story’ in that way people did when something wasn’t actually funny, but his tone of voice was quite light as he continued, “I was recovering after my job got sort of, uh, kind of really fucked up.” he raised his free hand and wiggled his gloved fingers, but Peter was focused on the expressive eyes of his mask. “And sometimes, to ease the recovery period,” there was major omission happening in the explanation, but Peter let it slide, “I tend to do some light drinking,” that at least explained the alcohol smell, “and I can be a leetle heavy handed on the pain opioids too.” Peter squinted at him sleepily.

Recovery? Alcohol and prescription pain meds? Did that mean Wade had been badly injured on his job? Clint’s words about Wade’s own limbs getting dismembered when he worked made Peter’s stomach do a small unpleasant flip.

“Sooooo, I was maybe definitely a little high and I was maybe definitely having some inappropriate thoughts about you.” he finally touched Peter, just a light touch to the tip of his nose. And just like that the unease abated, and Peter was starting to feel heat crawl up his neck really fast as he wondered what Wade had been thinking about him, “And I couldn’t help thinking about- ♪ the way you make me feel. Hm hmm hm hmm hm hm. ♪ ” Wade randomly broke out into song in a quieter version of his usual falsetto, “♪You really turn me on. Hm hmm hm hmm hm hm. ♪” and Peter couldn’t help that he snorted, started grinning, and turned to press his face into his pillow. “♪ You knock me offa’ my feet now, baby. Ow! My lonely days are gone. ♪" and he moved his body at the end in a way that Peter guessed was meant to be a Michael Jackson dance move.

He had one eye peeking out at Wade along with half of his smile. Wade was seriously such a cheesy dork. And Wade was smiling under his mask. Peter was just thinking that he wished he could see Wade’s smile, when the merc said,

“There’s that smile.” sounding like he was quite pleased to have made Peter smile.

“It feels good to smile.” he admitted quietly, still smiling, though trying to reel it in. He was feeling more relaxed, Wade’s presence was helping.

Peter had thought he’d reached a point where another person’s presence wouldn’t help, he’d become so despondent about being ‘comforted’, hence the reason he hadn’t sought it from MJ in the end.

But he was feeling better, Wade was making him feel better.

“It feels good to be the one to make you smile.” Wade followed up, voice a little less playful, more personal and intimate , a small step away from that low, sensual tone that he used so well. Peter pursed his lips, tugged on Wade’s drawstring so it pulled too much to one side and bunched up the hood,

“I’m glad you’re here.” he whispered, being honest. Wade’s mask expressed a more serious face then,

“I would have been back sooner, Baby Boy, but there were two unexpected problems I had to ki-uh, deal with and, uh...” Wade hesitated, before his face scrunched up a bit and he said, “sometimes I take some damage that requires more time to heal fully and I didn’t want to show up here until I was...better.” he seemed to choose the last word carefully.

Peter realized then that Wade was being more honest, that there was less omission. Still, he was keeping it vague enough, not saying what actually happened to him. Peter almost immediately wanted to ask him for details, he wanted to know how it worked. Could Wade actually die, and then come back, was that how it worked? His chest hurt all over again thinking of the fact that Wade may have ended up severely injured or dead in the past week, while he’d been sitting around moping over the fact that merc hadn’t texted him. His eyes were watering a bit and Wade noticed, frowning,

“Hey, no, no, bring the smile back, what happened, baby?” he said ‘baby’ on its own and Peter liked how it sounded. He could never make that word sound natural and sexy if he used it. And finally, Wade made proper contact, one of his large gloved hands coming up to cradle the side of Peter’s face. Peter just shook his head, not wanting to mention reading Wade’s files, or mention knowing Wade was immortal or that he often lost limbs and didn’t care, or anything that he’d heard or read about in the past week.

“N-nothing, just...glad you’re here.” he repeated quietly.

And then Wade went ahead and basically confirmed his immortality indirectly,

“If there’s one thing you can count on, Peter, it’s that no matter what happens to me, I always come back, so I will always be here,” he somehow managed to convey a half eye roll as he added, “eventually. I’ll always eventually be here.”

Peter sniffed, absorbing Wade’s indirect admission that dying for him was temporary, and probably quite common. He sniffed again, hating that idea. The people who’d died once in his life had hurt him so bad, the idea that Wade might die often and Peter wouldn't even know, it was making his chest ache .

Wade’s thumb stroked along his jaw and it brought Peter back to the present moment, the present moment where Wade was finally making contact...with the damned gloves on. He really wanted Wade to know that touch, skin to skin touch, was fine with him, but he also wanted Wade to feel okay about being touched.

Peter sniffed again , feeling like he’d been on the verge of crying all night but never quite making it there, and he moved closer into Wade’s space, close enough that his knees touched Wade’s legs. Wade tensed up immediately, and then removed his hand as Peter sat up and leaned closer. But Wade didn’t move away, and he also didn’t stop Peter when he reached his hands for the neck of the mask.

He stared right into Wade’s white mask eyes as he started to gather the material up, and he noticed how Wade tensed more and more, how his breathing got a little faster. Peter gathered the spandex up until his fingers were curling under the hem, his knuckles lightly grazing Wade’s rough, slightly sweat clammy skin underneath, and then he started to fold and lift the mask up and up, but only until he’d bared the lower half of Wade’s face and the point of his nose.

Peter wasn’t going to take advantage of the fact that Wade hadn’t seemed like he was going to stop him, not when he was so plainly tense and his jaw, now visible, was clenched so tightly. He clearly didn’t want Peter to take his mask completely off, even if he was willing to allow it. And that hadn’t been Peter’s intention anyway, his intention had only been to kiss Wade, so he did.

He leaned in and kissed the older super, his hands sliding down from where he’d folded the mask to touch Wade’s jaw and neck. His skin was clammy from being under the mask, much like how Peter’s own skin usually felt after wearing his mask for a long time, but Peter didn’t shy away from the feeling or from Wade’s skin. And Wade responded to the kiss after only a breath of hesitation, the merc leaning into it and taking the initiative to part his lips, tonguing his way into Peter’s mouth, as if he’d been wanting to and only needed the allowance. And he had it, completely, because it was exactly what Peter wanted, what he needed.

It was an enthusiastic kiss too, and whatever hesitation Wade had been feeling before disappeared because his hand found Peter’s waist under the blanket, settled there firmly and pulled him all the way close against him. Wade also stopped leaning on his elbow, instead he lied down, so that Peter was almost lying on top of him and pressed along his side. It was different than the time on the couch, not just because of the different position, but because they were kissing in a bed, and for Peter it seemed like more because of that.

It had his heart racing, head spinning and body reacting hotly. Wade’s kisses and touches were just a little aggressive too, and Peter was happy to ignore how the merc’s hands unintentionally smarted his bruises as they explored. Peter just parted his mouth wide to accommodate Wade licking roughly into it, enjoying that Wade wasn’t hesitating to touch any more. Even though his hands stayed over Peter’s clothes, it felt good when he caressed from Peter’s waist upward, into the curve of his back, higher up, and then back down and right onto his butt, where Wade groped him quite outrightly. And considering he was only wearing boxers, he felt extra sensitive to the touch.

Peter was feeling ten kinds of nervous when he felt how Wade’s hands were cupping the cheeks of his butt, squeezing a bit, and he couldn’t help the noise he made into the older super’s mouth, as it both turned him on and made him tense up nervously.

Wade noticed though, and he broke the kiss off, his voice gruff when he asked,

“Too much?” as they panted slightly into each other’s mouths.

Peter opened his eyes, swallowed, tasted copper,

“S’new,” he said honestly, “Less clothes...in a bed.” he felt Wade’s hands on his butt ease their grip,

“You say the word and everything stops, Pete, no questions asked.” and yeah, that was something Peter really appreciated about Wade, he both pushed Peter and was willing to back off completely.

Peter didn’t want him to back off though, he liked the feeling of Wade pressed against him, of Wade’s hands on him. He could feel Wade’s erection pressed into his hip and he was also hard in his boxers. He didn’t want less, as nervous as he was, he wanted more.

“I don’t want to stop, but...” he paused, swallowed thickly and wet his lips as Wade flexed his fingers and arousal continued to coil between his legs.

“But?” Wade prompted, his scarred lips pulling into a smirk when Peter pressed his hips in an unconscious grind against him. Peter had one hand pressed into the mattress and pillow next to Wade’s head, and he slid his other hand down to tug lightly on the collar of Wade’s hoodie,

“But you could lose the gloves and the hoodie.” he said in a hopeful tone, using Wade’s own smirk against him and then biting his bottom lip.

But Wade’s smirk faded and Peter heard him swallow tensely. He was expecting a shake of Wade’s head, but instead Wade nodded very stiffly,

“I can, uh, I can do that, but...”

“But?” Peter followed up, just as Wade had before, wishing he could be looking into Wade’s eyes instead of the blank whites of his mask’s eyes.

“ But I have on a short sleeve shirt and that’s a lot of bare skin, Pete.” he said it like he was sorry about it. Seeing as how that wasn’t a no , Peter slowly started to pull the hoodie zipper down,

“I was kind of hoping for more bare skin, Wade. I mean,” he continued pulling it down, “maybe you haven’t realized cause’ of your gloves, but I’m in my boxers right now.” he started to smile when Wade’s mask eyes widened, because yeah, through his stupid gloves he hadn’t noticed.

“Are you serious?” Wade asked, voice a little strained.

“Take your gloves off and find out.” Peter surprised himself by how boldly he could tease Wade sometimes, and Wade looked surprised too, and then his hands disappeared from Peter’s butt and quick as anything, Wade’s gloves were pulled off and tossed randomly aside.

Then Wade was kissing him again and his hands were back under the blanket, back on Peter’s butt and it was even more sensitive now without the gloves, making Peter shiver. Through only the thin boxer shorts the heat of Wade’s hands was more pronounced. And then the heat and texture had Peter making a sound of aroused surprise as Wade slid one lower onto the back of his thigh, bare skin to bare skin, followed by a firm caress back up again to cup one cheek, hand not entirely under the leg of his shorts, but also not entirely over it.

It was new, a whole new sensation for Peter, and it was good.

Peter experienced an entire body tremor at being touched like that. He’d never been touched like that. MJ hadn’t ever really touched his butt or his thighs much to begin with. And he moaned into Wade’s mouth as the merc’s fingers splayed and then groped again. The sensation did things to him, made his erection strain against the hard cut of Wade’s hip.

Wade’s touch hit totally different for him, something about it was just very unlike anything he’d experienced with MJ. The intensity of it, sexual and not, just felt so much rawer.

Wade continued feeling up and caressing and groping him as they kissed. And Wade’s large, hot, rough hands were intermittently sliding over his thighs, his butt, hips and waist, pulling him closer as well, and raising pleasant goosebumps all over Peter’s skin. And the older super had also started to roll his hips up against Peter. God, it was so good, and Peter felt overheated in the best possible way, with all of his worries and aches a million miles away.

All he wanted right then was more of Wade’s kiss and his touch...and he needed that damned hoodie gone!

Wade was running on system overload, which was not good.

He was kissing Peter with intent to get his lips plump and swollen and feeling Peter up on a level that was more like what he’d be doing when he’d been ready to fuck back in his heyday. He knew he needed to pump the breaks, but he couldn’t help touching and touching and feeling and kissing.

He hadn’t had his hideous skin touch anything so perfect in years.

And Peter was perfect , all encouraging, sexy and sweet noises, his body totally pliant, as was his mouth.

But aside from being so perfectly fuckable, everything else about him was perfect too. Wade loved his personality and his smile and his smarts an-and yeah, but right then, he was 90% thinking with his dick. So his focus was on appreciating the lean and muscled curves and lines of Peter’s body under his hands and pressed against him. All that smooth skin and his adorably sexy hair, but also the finer hair in certain places that Wade could feel now without gloves on. Christ. And the sounds he made and the way he kissed, like he wanted to have the taste of Wade in the back of his mouth. And fuck, that just conjured up even more ideas in Wade’s dirty mind.

His cock hadn’t been so hard in as long as he could clearly remember.

He wasn’t sure he could maintain his control. Everything about the way Peter’s body felt against his own was fucking heavenly, addictive, even with clothes on it was driving him crazy. And even as his previous resolve had been to strictly keep it in his pants, the only thing that was keeping him from trying to go for a home run with Peter was his fucking disgusting skin. And also because despite how into it Peter was, Wade still didn’t think the younger super was ready for sex.

And he didn’t want to risk fucking anything up, he felt like he really had something so good with Peter, something rare for someone like him. Something with the potential to be so much more than just sex, something to last beyond sex and become a real relationship. That’s why he was clinging to his self-control, he knew he needed to pace himself, and help Peter to pace himself too, because things between them would not be easy and sex, when feelings were involved, always complicated shit enough as it was. And not even the sex would be easy, not with it being Peter’s first time with a man and with the way his own skin looked. Neither of them could rush in, because either one or both of them would possibly end up with regrets and Wade didn’t wan-

“Jesus fuck.” Wade breathed out when, after Peter broke off from the heated kiss, he tossed the blanket aside before rearing up, moving so that he was straddling Wade and very much sitting on his crotch in nothing but a rumpled T and boxer shorts, which were riding all the way up so Peter’s thighs were almost completely bare. Fuckfuckfuckfu-

“Wade,” and that was not the best part, the best part was his face, gorgeous and flushed with arousal, pupils blown out, “take your hoodie off.” his lips so swollen, the way he licked them after he spoke, making them redder and his soft hair all Super Saiyan gravity defying like.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” he said in a rasp, his hands moving of their own volition to slide down Peter’s firm thighs and back up again, one going to hold his hip and the other moving to cup and stroke upwards over where Peter’s cock was tenting his shorts.

Peter moaned in that quiet, broken off way of his, jerking his hips into Wade’s touch and Wade’s own cock throbbed and strained beneath where Peter was sitting with that perfect ass right on top of it. Wade clenched his jaw and quickly started a mental mantra of, ‘ Keepitinyourpantskeepitinyourpants keepitinyourpantskee-’

His hoodie zipper snicked off just then and Peter flapped the two sides open before leaning forward to slide his hands underneath the material. His hands firmly pressed and rubbed into Wade’s shoulders, warm through just the thin grey T he was wearing. It was all that was separating Peter’s soft hands from his gross skin and the younger super was pushing the hoodie off his shoulders.

He’d said he wanted more bare sk-

“Take it off.” Peter repeated when Wade made no move to help, and then Peter grabbed the hoodie by either side of the material near Wade’s neck and used that incredibly sexy strength of his to pull Wade to sit upright.

“Holy shit.” Wade felt dizzy with arousal, extremely turned on and hyper-focused on getting back to kissing Peter, his hands sliding over Peter’s hips and back around to his ass and just then Peter half groaned, half breathed out,

“Please, take it off.”

Wade had never wished for something more right then than to be able to magically disappear his hoodie away, not only because he didn’t want to take his hands off Peter, but also because Peter saying please was definitely a shiny new kink for him. He couldn't disappear the fucking hoodie away unfortunately, but it took him all of three seconds to yank it off and yeet it somewhere off to the side...and then his arms were bare and suddenly everything was slowing down again.

He hesitated to put his hands back on Peter, because now that his arms were bare, so much more of his cancerous tissue and uneven skin texture and tones of flesh were on display. He was just barely grateful it was mostly dark in the room.

Barely grateful because he was lowkey starting to stress the motherfuck out.

His hands were slowly closing into fists as they hovered awkwardly on either side of Peter’s hips. And Peter was still sitting on his lap...and then Peter’s hands were sliding down his arms from his shoulders, all the way down , past the line of his short T-shirt sleeves and onto his bare forearms, before sliding back up again, all the way back to his shoulders, a slow and soft and deliberate touch. Then Peter was sliding his arms around Wade’s neck and Wade didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until Peter said,

“Hey, you okay? I really don’t want to stop, but if you do, if you’re too uncomfortable, we can.” his voice was quiet, a little uncertain, and Wade felt Peter’s breath ghost over his nose, because he’d ducked his head down slightly, “I didn’t mean to rush you, I just wanted...” Peter added, trailed off, voice starting to sound a little watery, a little hoarse and his arms tightening a little more around Wade’s shoulders, “I’m sorry for rushing you, I-…"

Wade raised his head quickly and brought his hands up to hold Peter’s face, bare skin, so much of his own bare skin that he just had to force himself to ignore. He effectively silenced Peter with his sudden touch and he stared straight into Peter’s slightly damp eyes,

“Don’t apologize to me, Peter. You’re not rushing me.” he reassured him, noticing for the first time from that angle that Peter’s eyes were bloodshot, “I just...” he swallowed thickly, looking into the young, pretty almost-crying face of Peter and feeling so many emotions flooding his system his throat started to close up, “-j-just keep waiting for you to gag, or shove me away, to tell me to stay away from you-"

“Wade, stop , listen.” Peter cut him off, sounding more pleading than angry and Wade swallowed the rest of his self-deprecating words as he stared into Peter’s pretty brown eyes. “I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but your skin really doesn’t bother me.” Peter ducked his head down a little, kissed his mouth with parted lips but somehow still shyly. Then he sniffed softly and gently rocked his hips, making Wade settle his hands on Peter’s waist again as his breath rushed out of him, “I’m fine, I swear, and you’re fine, yeah?” Peter asked, voice still soft, but arousal more notable in his tone as he started to roll his hips down and forward, slowly but continually, starting up a rhythm.

“Yeah, you’re so fucking fine.” Wade grunted out, his hands on Peter’s hips assisting the rhythm Peter had started in grinding down against him, unable to help picturing a different scenario, one with a more naked Peter riding his coc-

“Wade.” Peter said short on breath, as if just to say his name, and then he used one hand to lean Wade’s head back and they were kissing again, hot and wet and a little noisy. The sounds Peter made were all so soft and broken and hot and Wade happily swallowed them down or licked them out of his mouth.

It wasn’t long before they eased their way to being horizontal again and Wade didn’t hesitate to roll and flip their positions, Peter hitting the mattress and pillow with the sweetest huff. Wade took only a second to appreciate how absolutely fucking devourable he looked all hot and flushed and so clearly turned on, probably not far from coming.

Wade could picture it right then; how Peter would look after he’d fucked the sense out of him.

He was pressing Peter down into the mattress and kissing him again in the next second, continuing the rhythm and pace of their hips moving against one another. And in their reversed positions, Peter was the one touching , his hands sliding down Wade’s back and up over his flanks, then around to the front. And Wade couldn't help tensing up when Peter’s hands, warm and soft, smooth and daring, slipped under his shirt, feeling all the way up and then down over his chest and abs.

All the while Peter kept the kiss going, even powering through the moment where Wade paused in surprise. And...and it was good, it worked, because as Peter confidently touched his bare chest, and then his bare flanks and then even his bare back and waist, Wade slowly began to relax into it.

Peter’s boldness, Peter’s confidence and desiring touches, it made Wade feel a little more like how he’d felt with Vanessa. And it made his eyes burn, emotions ramping up again when he realized how much tension he hadn’t known he’d been feeling, until it all suddenly bled out of him. And Peter was just so...fuck, his kisses and touches and noises were becoming more heated and a little more urgent, and soon one of his hands slid down between them, over Wade’s crotch, cupping and shaping to match the contour of his cock inside his jeans and Wade throbbed hard against the feel of Peter’s hand.

He had to pause and just pant against Peter’s mouth for a moment, and then he pursed his lips and breathed in and out deeply through his nose as the younger super started to rub his cock firmly, up and down, through his jeans.

“Fuck, fuck , Peter.” Wade managed, feeling real close to coming very suddenly.

No one had even come close to touching his dick in years , and Peter’s touch was the closest, most earnest touch since Vanessa.

Wade knew he wasn’t going to last more than a minute, if that. And he felt like he was going to cry. But he gave in to it instead of fighting, weak to being willingly touched that way, he stopped all movement, just held himself up by his forearms over Peter as much as he could as he felt his orgasm coming up on him fast. The simple motion of Peter rubbing him off through his jeans, the way Peter had started out uncertain and then gained confidence, started to apply more pressure, changed speeds, was now squeezing his hand to get more of a feel close to the head, down the shaft, and even sliding his hand lower down to his balls...

Wade was white knuckling the bedding. He felt stupidly overwhelmed for a man of his age and experience.

“Peter, I- fuck, I...” Wade was shaking, actually shaking and his eyes were wet, but at least Peter wouldn’t see that, especially since tears actually left his eyes when he finally came, quickly ducking his head and burying his face and against the side of Peter’s neck as he swallowed the loudest part of his moan. His entire body becoming a tight, tense line of twitching muscle as his orgasm knocked the wind from him for a blissful, fantastic moment.

And Peter said,

“Wade.” just seconds later, half the sound lost to a pitch in his voice, because it wasn’t that he wanted Wade’s attention, it was that he was coming too. Wade vaguely registered the movement of Peter’s other hand between them, frantic and jerky and then...and then slowing. Peter was panting, humming brokenly in between, all right against the side of Wade’s bare neck. His breaths were deep and damp, lips hot and brushing against Wade’s skin. Shit, Peter had just gotten them both off and Wade was essentially just a giant puddle of goo, only just barely not collapsed on top of the smaller super.

What the actual fuck?

As they came down, Peter continued panting softly and Wade did the same. Just breathing through it until their heart rates lowered and they caught their breaths somewhat. Wade heard and felt Peter swallow, it sounded dry, as if he were thirsty, and then one of Peter’s hands was sliding up over Wade’s shirt and along his spine soothingly. And it felt good, and Wade felt great after his orgasm, but also pathetic for losing control and letting Peter do all the work.

But at least his dick hadn’t left his pants. That was some consolation for his terrible lack of self-control.

“Was that okay? I’ve never done that before.” Peter asked quietly, “Not even to myself, I mean, like, through clothes.” he actually managed to sound shy and satisfied and sheepish all at once. He was fucking perfect. Wade had to let him know, ignoring how pathetic he felt for the moment to raise his head and look down at Peter’s sleepy, post-orgasm face,

“You’re fucking perfect. Eleven out of ten. I think fifty other me’s in fifty other universes came too, even the girl version, it was-" Peter covered Wade’s mouth with a hand and he was laughing quietly, eyes all scrunched up, his voice still a bit hoarse and breaking here and there,

“Okay, Wade. I get it...” he was basically half giggling and Wade was smiling under the hand loosely covering his mouth.

The pathetic feeling, Wade noted, faded quite fast when faced with Peter’s contented, soft laughter and the feeling of his presence and physical body, perfectly relaxed beneath Wade, the younger super’s legs still parted either side of his thighs and partially flat. He seemed happy and comfortable right where he was.

As Peter’s hand moved away from his mouth, the younger super let it trail over Wade’s chin and jaw, and he was hard pressed not to turn his head away, especially since Peter was watching as his hand gently moved over his skin. But he forced himself not to move, and tried to relax into the explorative touch. And explore it did, not the heated touches moving everywhere in a hurry from earlier, but with Peter actually feeling and looking.

Peter’s soft fingers were gentle over and into the dips and raises and contours of his disfigured skin, down over his chin, onto his neck, over his adam’s apple and into the hollow of his throat. Wade just remained still, holding his upper body stiffly, with his forearms either side of Peter’s head, their lower halves still pressed together, the entire situation warm and intimate and –for Wade- also tense and scary. Peter looked so sleepy and calm though, when he asked,

“What is it?” while continuing his exploration, now looking into Wade’s masked eyes as he let his hand move to touch Wade’s upper arm, fingers sliding under his shirt sleeve, pressing into the partially relaxed muscle there, “Is it chemical? Or...” Peter swallowed, brow creasing in concern , “are they from some kind of heat mutation. Like, burns?”

Wade stared down into his sleepy, sweet, worried face and he could have just lied, because Peter was smart and telling him the truth would lead to more questions, but also, Peter was smart and he’d eventually figure out it was a lie the more he looked at it.

Besides, he didn’t want to lie to Peter, so he didn’t,

“Cancer.” he breathed out, “It’s cancer.” and he watched as Peter’s eyes widened in shock, but he didn’t immediately say anything, and Wade could see those smart brainy gears turning in Peter’s mind through his suddenly much less sleepy gaze.

Wade took the silence as an opportunity to shift to the side, lying beside Peter on his side, and it warmed his chest and eased the lead-like weight in his stomach when Peter turned into him easily, facing him, still lying intimately close, his head on the pillow, hair fluffy.

“So, you had cancer, then you mutated, and your mutation was a healing factor that makes you...” Wade waited to hear if Peter would say it, “...uh, your cancer can’t kill you, right?” he said instead of any direct admission of knowing Wade couldn’t die.

Wade noticed though, that Peter actually seemed to be asking, like he wanted confirmation Wade wasn’t going to die. It made him think of Tony Stark’s death and Wade wondered how much like family Stark had been to Peter...and who else Peter had lost.

He sighed softly from where he was leaning up on his elbow looking down at Peter, and watched how his breath shifted a few strands of Peter’s unruly hair when he sighed softly,

“My cancer can’t kill me.” he confirmed.

Peter lowered his eyes, and then his hand was back, touching again, fingering along the neckline of Wade’s T-shirt. Wade was definitely not expecting it when Peter asked,

“But you still have cancer?”

“...” he just nodded when Peter glanced up at him.

“What cancer?”

A pause, and then, as lightly as he could, Wade said,

“All the cancer.” and Peter looked like the subject was not making him feel better, and also like he was holding back from saying something, “Hey, forget my stupid cancer that can’t kill me.” Wade decided to change the subject, and decided to believe Peter really didn’t mind his skin when he reached a hand up and nudged Peter’s chin, leaning down to catch his pouting lips in a kiss.

He was aiming for natural, like how he would have been with Vanessa once upon a time, and it was a success, because Peter accepted the kiss like there really was nothing wrong, like he was totally comfortable with being kissed, even outside of the heat and mind-clouding arousal of sex. And it was such a soft and slow kiss. Wade felt a hint of that over exposed emotionality rising up in him, and he was just grateful for the mask keeping it concealed as his eyes burned again.

He’d never thought he would have something like this again.

Wade bit Peter’s lip gently as the younger super sleepily drew back from the kiss, inhaling long and slow when his head settled back on the pillow. Only to lift it again just enough that he could press a kiss to Wade’s bare throat and shift a bit closer, curling in so that his forehead was almost touching Wade’s chest. And holy fuck, Wade felt like he was about to cry again, how could Peter just...how could he be so-

Peter flinched just then, right when Wade slid his hand under his T-shirt, absently caressing upwards over his side. Immediately, his stomach twisted at the idea of Peter flinching away from his disgusting hand. Wade tried to pull his hand away, but Peter caught his wrist and squeezed lightly, quite literally looking half asleep, so much so that he didn’t seem to notice Wade’s panic as he mumbled,

“Bruised ribs. Still healing.”

With those words, Wade’s panic turned into anger and seeing Peter’s eyes were basically closed and the hold on his wrist was slackening, he shifted his hand so Peter’s fell away to settle on the bed, and Wade lightly took the hem of the T-shirt in his grip and he pulled it up gently. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth squeaked when he saw fading, but still fairly dark bruising, not just on Peter’s ribs, but also down to his hip and on his flank.

Wade assumed the younger super probably had bruises elsewhere too that were hard to notice in the relative dark. He looked more closely at Peter’s face then, and he was just about able to make out a very faint bruise around Peter’s left eye. And he recalled Peter’s eyes had been bloodshot. Fuck. Wade had been sleeping off drugs and alcohol while Peter had been getting knocked around during a fight with some cunt stirring up shit for no reason. That was why Wade killed bad, shitty people! And then Wade had shown up and disturbed Peter’s sleep. He was a cunt himself for doing that, it made him want to kill himself too!

He felt the urge to get up and leave to go hunt the fucker down, but Peter’s breathing had already evened out and he was quite literally curled towards Wade, every exhale tickling the hollow of Wade’s throat for how close together they were lying.

Something about the situation, about Peter falling asleep so easily and soundly right next to him, told Wade that leaving would be a big fucking mistake. That it might hurt Peter to wake up and find him gone. He didn’t want to hurt Peter, not if it could be avoided.

So, having nothing else to do and nowhere to go, Wade lied down flat as gently as he could right where he was, and while he doubted he’d sleep, considering he’d slept all afternoon and evening, he’d definitely stay and be there when Peter woke up. He could only hope there’d be no regrets...but he didn’t have any bad feelings or dread dwelling in his gut, he actually felt like maybe everything was fine.

Like maybe things with Peter would really work out okay.

He was starting to feel self-conscious again though, staring into Peter’s attractive face, so Wade reached up and pulled his mask down to cover his face again. He couldn’t cover his arms and hands up right then, or the places where his T shirt was riding up, but at least he could wear his mask.

Thinking of his mask as he smoothed it down over his neck, Wade thought of how earlier he’d been intending to just let Peter take his mask off. He’d frozen up, resigned himself to getting it over with, even though he’d felt so tense and afraid in that moment. But Peter hadn’t pulled his mask all the way off...he was so damn accepting and accommodating. Not forcing the issue at all.

He’d allowed Wade to touch him again , when Peter still hadn’t even seen his face.

Wade clenched his eyes shut, mask eyes closing almost completely as well as he took in a deep, quiet breath. He was angry at himself for being such a damned coward, for taking so much from Peter, who was just being so fucking great about all of his hang ups.

He was supposed to be doing better, but Peter was outdoing him just by existing.

He was glad Peter was sleeping though, he hadn’t been sure when he’d arrived earlier, but he’d assumed Peter was asleep when Peter hadn’t reacted to his presence, and he hadn’t wanted to disturb him just in case, so he’d tried to be quiet. But after remembering Peter’s bloodshot eyes, Wade could only assume Peter had only just fallen asleep when he’d shown up, or he’d been having trouble sleeping.

Wade knew that feeling, of not being able to sleep after a bad night, except he had the option of taking a death nap when he couldn’t sleep, Peter didn’t. And his fight had obviously messed him up enough to interfere with his sleep. Yeah, triggers in fights were something Wade was also familiar with.

He opened his eyes and let his gaze trail over Peter’s sleeping face again. His hand was lightly settled on Peter’s bare hip and it felt warm and smooth as he stroked his fingers, his awful fingers, lightly over the skin he was being allowed to touch. He was still amazed by that, but also amazed that the younger super felt safe enough to fall asleep around him. The only other person who’d felt that way had been Vanessa, and he hadn’t been able to keep her safe from the dangers of being with him.

He clenched his jaw. Fucking triggers.

He didn’t want his time with Peter to send him spiraling about Vanessa. She was very far in his past now. So much so that he never saw her when he died anymore, that had stopped not long after everything that happened with Russel and Cable. Wade had actually sometimes wondered if it’d been some kind of pre-regeneration hallucination or dream, had Vanessa even actually been there? Seemed foolish now to think she had been...after all the times he’d been alone in the empty darkness of death since then.

Yeah, Vanessa was in the past. He’d moved on from her whether he’d wanted to or not. With everything from their past life destroyed, he no longer had anything to remind him of her. Not even the lead coin from their first ‘date’. In all the mess and death and chaos after the blip, Wade had lost that bullet damaged little piece of high-grade lead. Also, he no longer remembered what Vanessa smelled like, what she’d tasted like. Some days he thought he could recall her voice quite clearly, but he hardly thought of her very often anymore, even less since Peter came into his life.

Peter...he could smell Peter right then, feel his skin under his scarred hand, and he could still taste Peter. He’d kissed Peter so deeply, probably a bit too roughly for how swollen his lips had been. His lips presently had mostly returned to normal...damn healing factors kind of ruined the post-sex glow if he was honest. It cleared up the pleasure haze of orgasm really fast too and made it impossible to leave a lasting hickey. That said, it did do wonders for stamina.

Wade smiled softly, realizing Peter must have been really tapped out to have fallen asleep so quickly. He raised an eyebrow under his mask as he wondered just how many rounds they’d be able to manage one day if both of them were in peak condition, and he felt arousal stirring in his abdomen at the dirty thoughts quickly forming in his head.

Then he shook his head once, quick and harshly, needing to regain control of his horniness.

Sighing soundlessly, but in a rather content way, Wade removed his hand and pulled Peter’s T-shirt back down to cover his skin, and then he shifted carefully to grab the blanket and pull it up, mostly over Peter, in case he got cold. He settled then, resigning himself to staying put. The wet spot in his jeans and underwear would dry, and it definitely wouldn’t feel half as bad as when he had dried blood inside his suit, so he ignored it...just as Peter had. Wade was tempted to check if it’d dried on Peter’s hand, or if he’d sneakily wiped it off somewhere.

The thought made him smile, and he finally let a few more of the tears he’d been holding in slip out, wetting the inside of his mask annoyingly, but it was worth it...it was worth it to be feeling something good. To be crying because he felt happy. It’d been so long.

It’d been so long and Wade was scared, because he wanted to keep Peter in his life. Permanently.

But everything he touched...eventually got fucked up.

The last few tears that left his eyes were not so happy.

...let's break them into kindling.

Chapter Text

...than in between cold embraces.

Peter’s eyes and brow scrunched up as a sound filtered into his ears, breaking through the blanket of his sleep. He kept frowning slightly as he inhaled and exhaled sleepily, turning to rub his face into his pillow and after rolling completely onto his stomach he stretched out his body on the bed. He sighed softly, eyes still closed, face buried in his pillow, but mentally he was trying to pull himself out of sleep. He just felt very relaxed, which was a really nice feeling to wake up to.  

His brain was slowly starting up and coming online as he lied there though, and as he became more consciously aware, he registered almost no pain in his body. He had healed enough while sleeping that the worst of the aches were gone. Thinking of that, he also realized that he felt well rested, like he’d actually managed to sleep well, which was weird because after the fight he’d had he...wait.  

Peter quickly pushed himself up onto his elbows, one eye closed and one squinted open as he turned on to his back and sat up to look around the room for Wade. Wade was the reason he’d slept at all! Recalling what had happened the night before made him blush almost instantly, but he was also thinking more innocently of how comforting Wade’s presence and company had been, even before they’d...gotten off together. Wade had made him feel so much better. Peter hadn’t thought it was possible for him to find comfort in someone’s company, he thought he’d become too emotionally damaged for that, and it made him feel lighter to discover that he still could. And he also felt more hopeful and happier about his rapidly growing feelings for Wade.  

As if he wasn’t making a bad choice with Wade, despite all those ‘red flags’ he’d uncovered.  

Looking around again though, more awake now, his stomach started to sink slowly as he noticed Wade was not in the bed, not in the room and didn’t appear to be in the bathroom from what he could see through the open door and in the mirror’s reflection. Peter blinked a few times, fighting a frown as he pushed the blanket down and untangled his legs from inside it, looking around the room again and not seeing any gloves or Wade’s hoodie and even the Mexican food bag on the desk was gone.  

He felt his stomach lurch and he swallowed thickly when immediately he was thinking that Wade had left, gone off again on another job and that maybe he wouldn’t be back again for days, or a week or even longer. The emotional upset came on pretty hard and he started to breathe a little heavier, jaw slowly clenching as his eyes burned...but then that sound that had woken him happened again, and he paid more attention to it that time, so that it broke through his waking, upset, tunneling focus.   

Peter blinked a few times, a small frown wrinkling his brow, before he turned to look at his almost closed bedroom door. There was music playing outside of the room. Tinny enough that it was likely playing on a cell phone. Peter could hear the song, but he didn’t know it...but, it sounded exactly like what Wade would listen to.  

Peter took in a deep breath and slowly huffed out the stress that had rapidly mounted in his chest, hunching over and drawing his knees up where he still sat on the bed, before placing his head in his hands. He felt pathetic and embarrassed for how he’d been about to react to Wade being gone. 

He was getting in really deep, really fast and it was scary.  

As it was, the night before he’d been half terrified and half thrilled when he’d decided to be bold beyond his nerves by touching Wade the way he had. Peter still presently felt arousal trickle into his body as he recalled how it had felt to touch Wade so boldly, to feel Wade’s upper body so brazenly under his clothes. He’d never known that all that hard muscle would feel so good under his palms and to press his fingers into; the tensed ridges of Wade's abs and his pectoral muscles, and the defined contours of his serratus anterior muscles all the way around to his broad back, up to his strong shoulders. Peter himself had all the same muscle definition, and yet feeling it on Wade, wondering what it would look like and also the way in which Wade was just so much physically larger than him, all of it, just...well. Truthfully, Peter had had a few sexual revelations about himself the night before, about what he liked and what he wanted, about the things he’d like to see and touch and kiss and experience.  

Which had led to him wanting to feel Wade’s erection, and even through his jeans, that had been...wow, he’d really liked touching Wade that way. And he’d felt his touch affect Wade, felt how the older man’s clothed length had throbbed against his hand, and his first thought had been to acknowledge how hard Wade had been, and then as he’d fought his inexperienced nerves and had started stroking Wade up and down, he’d acknowledged through his curious touch, the not insignificant size of Wade’s erection.  

And he’d felt so turned on and so nervous at the same time, but Wade’s reaction had bolstered his confidence. His reaction had been so intense and Peter had been emotionally caught up in how Wade had started shaking above him. He’d recalled in the moment when Wade had just given in, had let Peter touch him, that previously Wade had admitted that it’d been years for him. 

Wade, who was so used to being rejected because of his skin, hadn’t been touched by anyone in years.  

His touch, even just over Wade’s clothes, had made the older super come apart. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think that Wade was maybe touch starved or something, but Peter would never have known he could have that effect on someone. Even when he’d finally figured out how to get MJ off using his hand, it’d been far more complicated and it had never been so intense and emotional and immersive. But with Wade it had been all of those things, and it hadn’t even been actual sex.   

So, yeah, Peter had been terrified when he’d reached between them, but his own body had reacted ridiculously well to how affected Wade had been. It only made him more curious now, about how being with Wade in other ways would feel. Sure, he’d probably still feel nervous, but he knew it wasn’t a bad nervous. Not at all.  

He also knew he was 100% into Wade as a man , there was no grey area for him anymore about whether he was confused or wasn’t certain about knowing what he was getting into. He really liked Wade’s body, his very masculine form. When he’d finally gotten that hoodie off of Wade, seeing the way his T had fit him, not too tight, not too loosely, not hiding the sheer impressiveness of Wade’s cut build. Peter hadn’t been able to stop himself from putting his hands all over the older super. And of course, feeling Wade through his jeans and knowing he wanted to see and touch him more intimately in the future, than he had the night before, left him with no doubts about his feelings or his attraction. It was much clearer to him.  

And everything about what they’d shared the night before just felt so good, it made Peter feel like things were headed in the right direction.  

He bit his lip as he grinned into his hands. Yeah, he’d really enjoyed it and it’d all felt really good and he really, really liked Wade. He’d thought he’d have a more difficult time adjusting to touching and being with Wade like that, because before Wade, the idea had never crossed his mind of being with a guy. But he’d just let go the night before , in the heat of the moment, and he’d gotten so turned with each escalation of touch that it was almost embarrassing.  

He was getting hard again presently too, just thinking about it, and that was not convenient because he had to get up, he had to start the day. He dragged his hands down his face and looked at his bedroom door, through which he could still hear the music and with a small frown, he wondered if it was actually inconvenient? He had no idea what the time even was for one thing, and for another, he didn’t have anywhere else to be.  

He dropped his hands to his lap, bringing one back up to ruffle his awful bed head as he turned around to reach for his phone, first smiling at Wade’s drawing that was still on the nightstand, and then moving it aside and picking up his phone. Peter raised his eyebrows seeing that it had just hit noon, which meant he’d slept for quite a long time, which was really good in its own way. Another more important way in which it was good, was that it meant Wade had stayed with him all night and morning.   

He was smiling again as he absently opened the new messages waiting on his phone, and then his smile turned to worry when he saw May’s unread messages demanding to know if he was okay. He quickly shot off a text to her to tell her he was fine, sitting tensely, hoping she’d read it quickly. And she did! It was read just a few seconds later and then Peter stared wide eyed at the screen waiting for a reply, stressed that he was too late and that she was about to knock on his apartment door like last time.  

But a typing bubble showed up, followed by a question of whether he was okay. Peter sighed in relief, since if she was asking, it meant she wasn’t on her way over. He started to type that he was fine, and then he paused because he realized...it wouldn’t a lie. If he’d been typing those same words to May and Wade hadn’t come over the night before, Peter knew it would have been a lie. But he actually felt fine, he felt more than okay. So, he finished the message and also added a smiley face. May read the message immediately and then she sent a smiley emoji and a heart emoji, followed by some text to say he should call if he needed anything.  

Peter really loved her, she was so understanding and always there even without being there. He was smiling again, but he pursed his lips when he heard the music change, raising his gaze from his phone to look at his door again. His smile faltered a little as he wondered what place Wade might settle into in his life in the long run. He really wanted to find out, but it was honestly very hard to imagine how all the parts of his life would fit together...with Wade being a contract killer.  

He didn’t want to think about that though, he didn’t feel like stressing himself out with negative thoughts. So, he rubbed a hand roughly over his face before kicking the blanket off his legs and turning to throw his legs over the bedside. Just as he stood up his phone vibrated again, and he thought it would be May, so he opened the message without looking...and saw that it was from MJ. It read;  

Hey. I saw the footage online from   

last night. Wanted to know if you’re   

okay? MJ  

She even put her initials there, as if Peter would have deleted her number or something. He quickly noted his heart was beating a little faster from the shock of receiving a message from her after months of nothing. And, he felt oddly guilty as he started to reply to her, but he had no idea why he felt guilty. After he typed his generic ‘I’m fine’ message, he glanced at the timestamp of the previous message she'd sent. She’d texted him around four AM that morning, even earlier than May had, just asking if he was okay.

Peter’s stomach felt weird about MJ texting him. He didn’t like the weird feeling. He sent the message plain as it was and then stared at the phone a moment longer, seeing if the message would show read immediately. When a few seconds went by with nothing changing, he huffed irritably at himself and dropped his phone on the bed, leaving it there.  

He went into his bathroom then, to relieve himself, wash his face and rinse his mouth out with mouthwash, because Wade was there, so his morning breath was not an option. And by the time he was leaving the bathroom a few minutes later and heading out of his room, the weird feeling in his stomach had subsided.  

Peter could see Wade through the serving hatch of the kitchen, and he frowned but was smiling when he saw Wade was busy cooking something, which smelled familiar and good. But he also noticed that while Wade had his mask on, it was folded up to the bridge of his nose, and while he had his hoodie on, it wasn’t zipped up. Also, his hands were bare and his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. The fact that Wade wasn’t covering up too much really made him feel happy, but he was also grinning because the older super was, unsurprisingly, vibing and singing to the music he was playing. It was quickly becoming one of Wade’s most endearing qualities to Peter, who was fondly amused as he listened to Wade while quietly, on bare feet, he made his way toward the kitchen.  

“♪ -tense and nervous and I can't relax. I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire. ♪” he found it so amusing how Wade almost always sang in falsetto no matter the tone of what he was listening to, “♪ Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire. ♪” Peter quietly rounded the corner into the kitchen, casually leaning against the doorless frame and folding his arms over his chest, “♪ Psycho Killer. Qu'est-ce que c'est. Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa- better. ♪” and he just managed to hold in his laugh as Wade moved his shoulders and hips to the ‘fa fa’ part of the song. And then his falsetto got ridiculously high as he sang, “♪ Run, run, run, run, run, run, run awaaaaaaay oh, oooh, ooooh, oooh heeeey, babe. ♪” Wade had finally turned away from the stove and noticed Peter standing there. He was holding a pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.  

Whenever he said babe...just babe , Peter felt a little giddy. He wished he had the guts to use pet names like that. And maybe someday he would try it, but not right then. He opened his mouth to say something else in greeting, but Wade held the spatula up to silence him and then he rather smoothly deposited another two slices of what appeared to be, and smelled like, French toast, onto a literal pile that was already on the plate on the counter. It was, like, the entire loaf of bread on there.  

Then Wade unceremoniously dropped the pan and spatula into the sink and snatched his phone up off the counter top, stopping the song that had been playing and tapping on the screen for a moment until another song started playing. And the minute the guitar started with the beat, Wade put his phone down and he started dancing, but like, more than usual. Peter had a laugh on the tip of his tongue and butterflies in his stomach instantly.  

Then Wade started miming to the song instead of singing it, 

'♪ You don't have to be beautiful, to turn me on. ♪'  and Peter could see his mouth moving this time with the mask up, so it was even better to watch, '♪ I just need your body, baby. From dusk 'til dawn. ♪'  Wade moved his hands as if to outline Peter’s body shape as he started to make his way toward him, and Peter pursed his lips, trying not to smile too broadly. '♪ You don't need experience, to turn me out. ♪' and now Peter was blushing, because that lyric seemed so accurate after what had happened the night before, '♪ You just leave it all up to me. I'm gonna’ show you what it's all about. ♪'

Wade had crossed the kitchen and was right in front of him, still dancing in a way that was amusing, dorky and sexy all at once, and up close, he could hear Wade singing just audibly over the music, 

“♪ You don't have to be rich, to be my baby. You don't have to be cooool, to rule my world. ♪” he slowly crowded Peter up against the doorway frame, Peter turning so the frame was pressed along the middle of his back, “♪ Ain't no particular sign, I'm more compatible with. ♪" Wade’s hands landed quite comfortably on his hips, “♪ I just want your extra time and your... ♪”  he leaned in, making subtle kissy lips along with the song as the guitar played out, stopping just short of Peter’s mouth before adding “kiss.” to finish, then he smiled and bobbed his masked eyebrows.  

Peter was blushing and he wanted to burst out laughing as he said, 

“You’re a total dork.” right before he leaned up and did in fact kiss Wade, his hands going straight for Wade’s jaw, to touch his skin, to show him how much he didn’t mind it. The kiss was short, but not too short, because that morning greeting from Wade was something memorable. And the kiss was sweet too, literally, because Wade’s tongue tasted like syrup. When the kiss ended Wade’s teeth dragged over and off his bottom lip slowly and Peter admittedly felt more than a little dizzy. He felt like he could get used to waking up to kisses like that.  

They were still smiling as they looked at each other fondly for a few seconds after the kiss, and then Peter finally let out a laugh as Wade picked up on where the song was still playing, and he mimicked playing guitar as he started to move away, dancing his way back to the pile of French toast.  

Peter unconsciously licked the sweet syrup taste off his lips and followed Wade over to the food. He’d quite literally never had such a strange and pleasant morning. He stopped just beside Wade as the man popped the cap of the syrup bottle open and continued to mime and dance, albeit less animatedly, as he drenched the pile of French toast in syrup. After he snapped the cap closed, he picked a fork up from beside the plate and turned to hand it to Peter, 

“Eat up Baby Boy, healing factors need lots and lots of calories to function at optimum level.” he pushed the plate toward Peter, “Those bruised ribs of yours need to heal up asap.” he added more seriously. Peter didn’t remember telling Wade about his ribs, but a lot had happened the night before and he’d been so horny, but also so tired. So, he just bobbed his eyebrows in a facial shrug and stuck the fork into the two topmost slices, leaning forward over the counter so the syrup didn’t end up on the floor as he took a large bite.  

He chewed a bit, licked syrup off his lips, chewed some more, watched Wade watching him eat, and then when he could finally talk without food falling out of his mouth he said, 

“My ribs are healed, bruising’s almost gone too.” he informed Wade, since he’d checked when he’d been peeing earlier. Wade nodded,  

“That’s good. I was pretty tempted to go out last night and find the fucker.” he said as he leaned his hip against the counter. Peter had taken another bite of the toast –because wow he was hungry- and he hummed distractedly in response as his eyes trailed down to the way the movement of Wade crossing his arms over his chest made the definition of his pectorals stand out under his T-shirt. 

“My eyes are up here, spider babe.” Wade said, sounding amused. Peter quickly raised his gaze back up to Wade’s half masked face and he just smiled close mouthed as he chewed some more. Wade was smiling too.  

Peter found himself wondering about convenience again. He didn’t have anywhere to be and Wade...did Wade have somewhere to be? He really hoped no- 

“You were hungry, huh?” he asked as Peter finished off the first two syrup drenched slices and skewered another two, 

“Always hungry, even when I’m not.” he answered before taking another large bite out of the toast. 

 Wade was adding more syrup to the pile,  

“You’re not very good at feeding yourself, are you?” 

Peter shook his head, eyebrows raised, unapologetic and honest when he said, 

“No time.” 

“We live in the age of convenience, Pete, you can even order groceries online nowadays, they’ll bring it to your apartment and everything. You do know that, right?” he sounded perplexed, like Peter should definitely not be having trouble finding something, or some time, to eat, “Is it money, do you need mone-" 

“Mmnoo.” Peter said immediately, shaking his head, eating more toast, distractedly thinking about convenience, since Wade had mentioned the word, and also thinking about how much he enjoyed kissing the older super, “You need to take,” he swallowed, licked his lips, skewered more toast, “your money back, the money you left here last time.” he vaguely pointed to one of the drawers, took another bite. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Wade obviously and exaggeratedly lied and Peter squinted at him as he chewed another mouthful. 

The song ended at that moment and the kitchen was quiet.  

Wade moved away then, Peter eating more as he watched as Wade retrieved the milk carton from the fridge, sniffed the contents and then closed the fridge and brought the milk over. He opened exactly the right overhead cupboard and took down a glass, placing it on the counter and proceeding to fill the glass with milk.  

He then held the glass out to Peter, who felt ridiculously warm and fuzzy over the fact that Wade was worrying about him, caring so much. And he really did care actually, Peter knew it. And that realness, that genuine side of Wade, was one of the things that made Peter’s heart rate pick up and his stomach feel light. He took the glass, swallowed his mouthful and then took a long drink of the milk, and after he’d washed down what he’d eaten with almost all of the milk, he set the glass down and said, 

“Thanks, Wade.” 

“I still see bread on the plate, Pete.” Wade said matter of factly, and then he poured more milk, “ My healing factor trumps yours, baby, I know you’re still hungry.”  

Peter snorted,  

“Yeah, okay, I’ll eat it.” he conceded, because he was still hungry. But first, he hopped up to sit on the counter next to the plate, and when he moved to skewer more toast, he noticed Wade’s eyes were on his thighs, which, since he was sitting made his boxers hike up quite a bit, baring more skin. 

He smirked, 

“My eyes are up here, Wade." he couldn’t use a pet name and make it sound anything but awkward, but it still felt good to say Wade’s teasing words back to him. Feeling clever and smug about volleying the playful comment back, he took a bite of toast and chewed, totally not accounting for the fact that he and Wade were very different, 

“I know, Baby Boy, I’m just imagining how good it’d be to have your naked thighs wrapped around my head.”  

Peter promptly choked on his mouthful, almost spitting it out, but just managing not to. It hurt to swallow it down, so he thumped his chest a few times, then Wade handed him the glass of milk and it really helped. When the food was down and he’d stopped choking, he cleared his throat sorely and Wade started gently rubbing his back as he took the glass from him, 

“Sorry, Pete, bad time for sexy talk.” 

And, yeah, no, that is not what Peter was thinking at all .  

He knew his face was red, from choking and blushing, but since being bold had worked out so well for them the night before, Peter decided to just go for it, 

“Uh,” he cleared his throat again, “do you have anywhere to be right now?” and he wasn’t even able to make it sound suggestive, but somehow Wade just knew why he was asking, the white eyes of his mask widening as they stared at each other. 

Say it again, I like how you work my name...

And then Wade was on him, between his legs, hands on his hips, pulling Peter forward to the edge of the counter top, right into an open mouth kiss. Peter dropped the fork and it clanged wherever it landed as he wrapped his arms around Wade’s neck and shoulders and kissed him back. Peter fleetingly cursed the mask as part of it rubbed against his nose as they kissed, but it was not even remotely annoying enough to make him want to bring it up.  

They kissed for a minute, quite heatedly, and then Peter huffed a breath of surprise when Wade stepped back from the counter and pulled him along too, right off the edge, so that he was carrying Peter, hands under his thighs, the kiss not stopping. Peter went with it, feeling completely supported and even more turned on. Wade held his weight up easily, as if he barely weighed a thing, and the merc walked them out of the kitchen and right back to the bedroom.  

After entering the room, Wade walked right up to the foot of the bed, where he dropped Peter down to bounce on the mattress, saying, 

“Please tell me I get to have your naked thighs wrapped around my head right now.” voice low and sexy and aroused and Peter, once again nervous, but in a very aroused way, found himself nodding. He’d noticed a while back how Wade was a little different when he was turned on, somehow more serious and direct, and there was something in his tone of voice and his physical actions, that Peter still wasn’t sure how to process. He just knew he liked it, and that it pushed him to be more confident himself, and that was a good thing.  

Except...as Wade reached down and his rough, bare fingers tucked into the waistband of Peter’s shorts, starting to pull them down, a small swell of panic rose up in Peter. He was about to be literally half naked for the first time with Wade. Wade, whose face he still hadn’t seen. Wade, who was still basically completely dressed in clothes from head to toe. Wade even had his shoes on!  

Peter had only been any kind of sexually naked with one person before, and even then, during the first few times they’d had sex, he’d been nervous, but at least MJ had been naked too! Now, it was way different. Wade was still clothed, while very private places of him were going to be exposed and touched and there was a vulnerability about it that had Peter feeling really uncertain. But still...he was turned on and he liked Wade so much and it was confusing enough that he didn’t open his mouth and ask Wade to stop, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to.  

He was already fully hard as his shorts came off, Wade sliding them quite gently down over his legs and off his bare feet, the merc absently tossing the shorts aside. And he blushed so hotly that he broke out in a light sweat when Wade cursed while looking down at him, his entire focus on the bared lower half of Peter’s body.   

Peter’s breathing was accelerated by that point, heart rabbiting in his chest and yeah, even with MJ when he’d been completely naked, he’d never felt quite so exposed and vulnerable.  

Wade’s general demeanor and presence were just so different and so much more . 

Peter swallowed a sound of surprised shock when Wade’s bare hands ran down his naked thighs, from outside to inside, and then the merc pushed his legs properly open, not roughly, but still quite firmly, which, okay, it made Peter’s erection throb and bounce lightly against his belly, but he also felt his nervousness tip over into uneasiness.   

He gave no resistance though, just shivered lightly under Wade’s hands, choosing then to raise his head so he could watch as Wade lowered himself down to his knees. And even though he could see what was happening, Peter still felt a jolt of surprise when Wade pushed his shirt up, baring half of his abdomen too. And Wade hummed appreciatively as he caressed his hand over a stretch of Peter’s naked skin, from his tummy all the way down his thigh, seemingly watching his stomach, where Peter knew his abs would be tensing with every short, quick breath he took. And then...  

...and then Wade was kissing his stomach softly, nosing into his belly button, both of the merc’s hands beginning to quite confidently caress up and down Peter’s thighs again; inside, underneath, along the outside, down to the backs of his knees and lower legs too. And the rough and textured skin of his hands felt more outstanding on such sensitive skin. Peter felt very, very vulnerable as the kisses turned a little open mouthed and wet, and Wade’s hands gripped lightly between caresses, and he was shaking a bit from the sensory overload. But honestly, the more Wade touched and kissed him in new ways, Peter just felt more and more aroused. Especially as Wade’s mouth, his lips textured and hot and his kisses wet, moved lower and lower. Gradually, Peter forgot to be anxious. Instead, he was anticipating what would come next.   

Even so, he was still totally stunned by the sensation as Wade’s mouth slid over his erection. All. The. Way. Down. In one go.  

“Ohmygod!” Peter squeaked out, and then when Wade, seemingly without any need to pause or wait or hesitate or breathe, started sucking and bobbing his head up and down Peter’s length without a hitch, the moan that came out of Peter’s mouth was as obscene as the sounds of Wade’s mouth sliding up and down his dick.  

He fell back to lie flat on the mattress as Wade increased his pace and suction, and the next series of ‘oh my gods’ that left Peter’s mouth were barely voiced and his body was tensing up as pleasure started to rush in very intense waves right to his crotch, making his toes curl and his back bow and sure enough, he’d wrapped his thighs around Wade’s head.   

Peter was dizzy with the rapid buildup of pleasure and Wade didn’t even gag, didn’t even stop, he just kept going, his hands settled on the points where Peter’s hips curved into his legs. 

“Wade.” Peter managed to breathe out, not even sure why he was saying Wade’s name, but it made the merc stop. When Peter felt the loss of intense heat and suction on his erection, he inhaled and exhaled loudly as the pleasure threaded tension in his body eased and gave him a chance to catch his breath, the buildup lingering but no longer tugging so insistently between his legs.  

His breathing was loud and quick, eyes closed, hands fisted in the sheets and his mind was swimming. 

So when Wade asked, 

“You good, babe?” breathing heavily on his dick, Peter couldn’t form words, and he just dazedly nodded, not even sure if Wade could see him nodding from down between his legs. Wade didn’t immediately go back to sucking the coherence out of him though, and he could only make a small shaken moaning sound when Wade proceeded to kiss, nibble and suck on the inside of his one thigh, that mouth he was becoming increasingly fond of, leaving marks in an intimate place. But even though the mark wouldn’t stay long, the memory would. He knew without even thinking about it, that he’d never forget how Wade’s teeth and tongue felt grazing and licking along his sensitive inner thigh.  

And he wanted more, he wanted this, he wanted Wade to keep goi-  

Peter couldn’t help jerking lightly in surprise when Wade suddenly dipped his head and licked from his perineum all the way up over his balls, a soft, strangled sound choking out of him. And then he was moaning in a similarly broken way as Wade sucked each one of his balls in turn and holy crap, that had never been done to him before and it felt so good that he just, he didn’t even...  

Wade started to kiss his way up again, and unconsciously Peter reached a hand down and placed it on his masked head when he felt the merc’s lips return to his throbbing erection. And his hand was mostly lax and trembling when Wade said, 

“I want you to come in my mouth, Baby Boy.” in a gruffer voice, his large hands once again sliding over Peter’s naked skin, over his lower abs and down the sides of his thighs, arousing Peter even further so that his grip unconsciously became a little firmer as he inhaled shakily. But Wade didn’t even give him a chance to respond before the older super had taken him into his mouth again and went right back to the rhythm from before, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, pace fast and his tongue...his tongue was so...so...  

Peter came before he even knew it was happening, his mouth going slack and the moan he breathed out mostly lost in his throat as he arched off the bed, his thighs automatically drawing together on either side of Wade’s head. His previously lax hand also spread out over the back of Wade’s head to hold him there as his orgasm blanked out his mind completely, pleasure moving through him like a wave, making his skin feel overheated, prickly and tingly and reaching all the way to his extremities.  

After about a minute, once the height of his orgasm had passed, a noise finally made it out of Peter’s throat, reedy and soft, his limbs feeling boneless as he relaxed his body so it flattened out on the bed again. His legs loosened as well, shifting to rest more or less on Wade’s broad shoulders. Peter then felt Wade draw his mouth up and off, felt his softening sex slip from between Wade’s lips and he felt that he was still shaking... 

And then he noticed how quiet the room was, how Wade wasn’t saying anything. And so, as he became properly coherent again, the ensuing silence filtering more and more into his awareness, his nervousness and vulnerability slowly crept back in.  

Why was Wade so quiet? Was Wade-  

Wade...oh, Wade was kissing his hip bone so softly, his hot lips lingering there, and then the merc was nosing over his lower stomach and moving up to his belly button, pressing another kiss there, his lightly panting breaths ghosting pleasantly over Peter’s sensitive skin. And like it so often did when it came to Wade, his anxiety was quickly lessening, the small sparks of shame that seemed to have come out of nowhere dissipating as quickly as they’d started.   

And Wade’s hands returned to touching his thighs then, gently supporting Peter’s legs as the older super moved upward, shifting Peter’s legs gently off his shoulders, so they were still parted but no longer elevated. Peter was back to feeling relaxed and a bit floaty when Wade said, 

“Pete.” voice still low and laced with arousal, but also sounding amused. He slowly moved all the way up until he was holding himself up over Peter, pressing their bodies together just enough to not make Peter feel too exposed, 

“Hm.” he responded dazedly, noting that Wade’s jeans felt cool and strange against his naked, sensitive skin. 

“Your hand is doing a thing.” the merc sounded teasing. 

“Huh?” Peter frowned and then opened his eyes and looked up into Wade’s masked eyes...and then to his raised arm, which was attached to his hand, which was attached to the top of Wade’s head.  

Peter gasped softly through his nose and removed his hand...unstuck it actually. Wade was smiling even as Peter felt stupid and embarrassed.  

Then Wade smacked his lips, and looking down at him smiling, the merc said, 

“I was half expecting it to be spider webs.” and just like that, any and all tension completely disappeared as Peter reached up to snatch a pillow so that he could thwack Wade with it.  

Wade, who was cackling, curled himself over and around Peter to make it more difficult for Peter to softly beat his wise cracking ass. Peter was blushing again, but he was also smiling and feeling perfectly fine, despite still being half naked after a very new and nerve-wracking sexual experience for him. Maybe he was maturing? Or maybe it was just Wade. 

Something about being with Wade made things seem so easy.  

Peter gave up trying to hit him with the pillow and instead used his super-strength to flip them. Surprised, Wade let him go and flopped back on the bed, leaving Peter kneeling over him, using the pillow to cover his nudity as he looked down at Wade with poorly feigned indigence and an even more poorly concealed smile.  

Wade then literally made a sound like the wind had been punched out of him, saying, 

“Kodak Moment, Baby Boy, you look fucking gorgeous right now.” in a breathy and very sincere voice. And Peter had no idea how to react to that. His mind reacted though, by thinking of the picture saved in his gallery, of that woman and before-Wade, Peter wondering how many ‘Kodak moments’ they’d had together...post sex or any other time. The thought made him feel stupid and more than a little jealous, which was beyond ridiculous, but he supposed maybe it was normal too?  

“Don’t fret, Pete. I’m not gonna’ take any pictures of you.” Wade said, again sounding sincere but also a little self-sorry, like he’d never have even thought he would be allowed take pictures of Peter. Peter felt bad for Wade getting the wrong idea, but he didn’t say anything because he could hardly explain what he’d been thinking about. And also, Wade's hands were distracting him, both of them having settled on his still naked thighs. 

The merc’s hands felt so hot, and they were large and textured and felt familiar already. To Peter, Wade’s touch registered only as pleasant. Completely welcome even when a particular touch was new or he was nervous. Wade’s touch was trusted...and desired. He wondered if he should try to tell Wade that, wondered if Wade would even believe him. Then he wondered if maybe he should have said something encouraging about the picture thing, to let Wade know he didn’t have an issue with it... 

But he was unable to make himself do it. Something about the moment didn’t feel right, like it’d ruin the mood or something.  

Instead, he put the thought aside and looked down at Wade lying back on the bed beneath him. He looked at how Wade’s muscles stood out through his T shirt even when he was relaxed, and quite randomly, he found himself curious. Wade’s S.H.I.E.L.D file had listed that he was a very skilled fighter. And while he knew that Wade had very minor enhanced strength, the merc had literally never resisted against Peter anytime he exerted any physical strength, not even a little. So Peter was curious about what the man could do, especially since Wade definitely had spades more skills in actual physical fighting than he did. Wade was a trained soldier after all, while Peter just used superhuman sense, strength and reaction time. Sure, he’d learned a few things over the years, but it wasn’t much.   

He blinked out of his distracted thoughts as Wade’s fingers started to map out some indecipherable pattern on his left thigh, and figuring there was no harm in finding out more about Wade’s abilities, he asked, 

“If I put you into a submission hold, could you get out of it?”  

Of course, Wade being Wade, answered, 

“Why the fuck would I want to?” quite earnestly, finger-writing what Peter thought might have been a heart against the skin above his knee. Peter snorted fondly, smiling and shaking his head. His ears seemed to be hot almost all the time around Wade. The merc was so honest and shameless. 

“Come on, I’m serious, Wade.” he prompted. 

Wade managed to make an expression that said ‘so am I’ even with half his face masked.  

Peter half rolled his eyes and then, after glancing off to the side, he stuffed the pillow into Wade’s face. He was quick, and he used the moment of Wade’s face being covered to hop, in one leap, over to where his boxers had been thrown so he could pull them on. He knew it was dumb to feel self-conscious of his nudity, but Wade was still fully clothed and Peter was still prone to awkwardness.  

“D’aaaw.” Wade complained as soon as he’d removed the pillow, sitting up to find Peter snapping the waistband of his boxers into place. Peter didn’t miss a beat, 
“Don’t complain, you’ve literally got all your clothes on.” he said honestly. Wade groaned like a kid and flopped down again...but he didn’t remove even so much as a shoe. 

Peter sighed inwardly and walked back over to the bed, sitting next to Wade and then turning to criss- cross his legs on the mattress facing the merc, his knees and toes touching Wade’s jean clad thigh. 

“So, like, hypothetically or whatever, if we sparred or something, could I take you in a fight?” Peter really wanted to know; he’d never been able to have this kind of conversation with another super. None of them ever wanted to talk about stuff like this for some reason. They’d always looked at Peter like he was being childish. Even Tony. So, he’d stopped asking. Even though he suspected they’d all definitely had similar conversations with one another at some point, in some way.  

Wade didn’t look at him weirdly at all, he just put his arms up behind his head, crossed his long legs over at the knee off the bed’s edge and casually said, 

“Of fucking course, Pete. You could beat me into a pile of liquidated human squish.” so frankly and without any hesitation, Peter’s eyebrows shot up, “You actually did, in that one comic issue.” 

Peter frowned at that, 

“What?" 

“Nothing, never mind,” Wade waved it away as if something were floating above his head, “why would you ask that? You know I haven’t got any super-strength.” he sounded completely relaxed admitting that, and Peter felt guilty about having looked at Wade’s files and now being curious about the merc’s fighting capabilities. Even if it seemed like Wade really wouldn’t care that he had. 

“I mean, like, okay,” he decided to be more specific, “if we were fighting and I was using just enough strength to match a guy your size, and I got you into a submission hold. Could you get out of it?” 

And a weird thing happened then.  

Wade turned his head a bit to look at him, and even without being able to see Wade’s eyes, he knew the man was sizing him up, assessing him seriously. Taking him seriously. 

But then he suddenly shrugged, looked away again and said, 

“I dunno’, maybe.”  

But Peter somehow just knew he was lying. Why would he lie?  

It annoyed Peter and he moved to kneel up and lean over Wade from the side, making Wade blink his unrealistically animated mask eyes up at him. Peter said, 

“Just tell me.” he wanted the truth. 

Wade shrugged again, masked brow frowning, 

“Hard to say.” 

“Why?” 

“Universe and storyline inconsistencies.” he mumbled and Peter frowned at him again, so confused, and then Wade huffed out, “I guess it depends.” 

“On what?” he wanted a clear answer. 

Wade paused, his mask eyes going eerily blank for a moment, before he said, 

“On me. On how seriously I fight.” 

“Meaning what?” Peter pressed. Wade sighed, mask eyes narrowing slightly. Peter bounced on the mattress a bit, “Meaning what, Wade?”  

In a blink, Peter felt a hand on his throat and he was pushed back firmly, the room tilting. His back hit the bed, and all in the same motion, one of his arms and both his partially unfolded legs were locked under the weight of Wade’s lower legs, while his other arm was pinned by his wrist above his head. And...there was a gun under his chin, the barrel of which was pointed right up into the soft fleshy space under his chin. Peter hadn’t even known Wade had a gun on him. Did Wade always have a gun on him?  

And Wade was so calm and so balanced, his voice level, but also more serious when he spoke, 

“With your super-strength, I’m at a disadvantage.” he admitted, but Peter, listening with wide eyed interest, noted that that time, Wade didn’t claim he’d outright lose. Then, “Without super-strength, Baby Boy? I don’t think you’d stand a chance.” he said quietly, and Peter could feel the truth of it. Wade’s hold was solid, just as his weight was over Peter. If he didn’t use super-strength, he would not be able to get out from under Wade. But even with super-strength, Wade could almost definitely at least injure him badly with that gun before he’d get away. Wade was fast. 

Peter’s heart was racing.  

The older super casually removed the gun then and Peter swallowed and parted his lips to exhale, watching as Wade tapped his own chin with the large handgun as he narrowed his eyes,  

“But I was counting on that sense thing of yours to warn you before I even moved?” he sounded curious. Peter couldn't help the smile that broke out over his face, and it was genuine, his body humming with an odd warmth, like he was turned on, or maybe just excited somehow. 

“You don’t set off my spider sense.” he admitted, and Wade’s mask eyes blinked down at him, “Not when your focus is on me, not when you’re aware that it’s me.” Peter told him the truth, “I-” he swallowed and licked his lips, “I know you won’t hurt me, Wade.” his voice a little breathless as he continued to smile up at the merc. 

“Fucking right, baby.” Wade grinned, sounding sincere and pleased about it, and then he put the gun away, behind his back, under his jacket and shirt, and eased the hold of his legs, also letting go of Peter’s wrist.   

Peter was honestly baffled about how he hadn’t known Wade was armed all that time, he certainly hadn’t encountered that gun the night before when he’d had his hands under Wade’s shirt.  But it didn’t matter, because Wade leaned over him and Peter brought his hands to hold the older man’s neck as Wade kissed him.  

Being with Wade was so damn easy. And also, knowing Wade was dangerous, but would never hurt him, there was something intoxicating about that. To trust someone and know his trust was well placed, someone who was his equal, someone who was direct and sincere with him. Someone who he could be completely honest about Spider-Man with. Someone who he could relate to. Someone he could fall in love with...  

They kissed and kissed, and it was unhurried and deep and slow and ridiculously good. Wade had lowered his body down, his weight lightly pressing Peter into the mattress as the merc’s one hand found its way into his messy hair. And Peter was slowly daring to slip his fingers underneath the fold of Wade’s mask, touching his lower ears.   

He honestly couldn’t believe the morning he’d had, he’d never started a day this way and it was so great. And he was just wondering if they really could just spend the whole day together, kissing and playing and laughing and touching, and the thought of it made him feel a little buzzed with happiness and hopefulness. But then the faintly bitter and bloody taste of Wade’s tongue moving against his own made him remember something. 

Blood. The blood sample!  

Peter groaned into the kiss, ending it with a soft smack by turning his head to the side slightly. 

Wade started to kiss his chin, 

“Whassa’ matter?” he asked, and Peter didn’t fail to notice that Wade was becoming less and less self-conscious of his skin, or at least it seemed like it. It was even more of a reason to groan again about having something important he actually needed to do. 

“I just remembered, I do have something to do today.” 

Wade stopped the kissing trail he’d been making down Peter’s neck to push himself up, 

“Patrol, right?” 

Peter shook his head, and then nodded and shook his head again, distracted by the fact that Wade’s arms were bracketing his head. His forearms were still bare, sleeves still pushed up and his veins and the lines of muscle were visible along his forearms, even under the skin disfiguration.  

Damnit! Spidey stuff was always messing with his personal life.  

Peter really hated having responsibilities, because who knew how much more comfortable Wade might become if they actually spent the day together!   

“I have patrol later, yeah,” he looked up at Wade, “but I also need to drop something off at the Avengers Mansion, sooner rather than later.” he added, still continuing to distractedly sneak his fingers just under Wade’s mask, touching the scarred skin of and around his earlobes, grazing his cheekbones. 

Surely he was uncomfortable after wearing the mask for so long? Had he taken it off while Peter had been asleep? The idea frustrated Peter.  

He belatedly noticed that Wade had gone oddly quiet after he’d mentioned dropping something off, and then Wade abruptly rolled off of him and sat up at the foot of the bed, leaving him feeling a little confused at the sudden loss of contact. Then Peter felt even more confused when the merc said, 

“Alright, I’ll get going then.” and he said it nonchalantly, but he was already pulling his mask back down and Peter admittedly panicked a little, hating how the mood had soured so fast.  

“It’s a blood sample!” he blurted, shifting to sit at the edge of the bed next to Wade and putting his hand on Wade’s forearm before the man could stand up. He was not sure how, but he just knew Wade was getting the totally wrong idea. Did Wade think Peter was making an excuse, that he wanted him to leave?   

Wow, was it the opposite.  

Wade moved his arm away, so Peter had to take his hand back, and it stung a little, but the older super was using both hands to tuck his mask into the neckline of his T-shirt. So maybe that was the reason he’d pulled his arm away? He doubted it.  

Peter’s stomach tightened, a small tense knot forming there.  

The merc looked at him though, and cocked a masked eyebrow questioningly. And while Peter’s mood had already plummeted with Wade’s, he still explained, waving a hand toward the bedroom door, 

“In my fridge, there’s a, uh, I collected a blood sample last night after my fight with that guy.” and then he was reminded of that fight, of the people who’d died, of how he’d almost forgotten about all of it completely, just because Wade was around. And that made him feel pretty shitty. 

“Oh yeah, I saw that.” Wade admitted, then as he pulled his hoodie sleeves down, he added, “You made the fucker bleed? Nice.” he nodded, his mask hiding his smile from view. 

Peter sighed, moved his gaze to focus on his hands fidgeting between his legs, and he didn’t feel like commenting on his stuff up that made the guy bleed, but also got some people killed, so he moved on, 

“I think he’s a mutant, which is new for me. I’ve never fought a mutant before.” he clasped his hands between his knees and hung his head a bit.  

He wasn't expecting Wade to comment much about it, but he was surprised when the older super said, 

“You shouldn’t fight him.” quite seriously, and he lifted his head to look at Wade with a frown, 

“Huh?” 

“I just mean, mutants don’t always have it easy, it might be better to let other mutants deal with him.” and yeah, he sounded quite serious about it. Peter was actually pleasantly surprised to hear Wade say that, it was totally unexpected. He bit back a small smile and teased, 

“What happened to wanting to hunt him down?” 

Wade still seemed to be smiling under his mask as he stood up, 
“That’s why we should get some mutants to tag him, before you have to fight him next time. Because if that fucker hurts you again, I’ll end up going after him myself.” 

Peter blinked, a sort of sad smile settling on his face. He shook his head, 

“You can’t want to go after every person who manages to land a hit on me, Wade.” 

“It’s not the physical hurt that’ll make me kill him.” Wade said quietly, voice tense, smile gone. And once again he surprised Peter, so much so that he felt a small shock jolt through his stomach. Wade had obviously noticed how badly he was off the night before. Damn. 

Peter looked down to stare at his own bare feet as he shook his head again, avoiding that topic, 

“I don’t know any mutants, and what’s left of the Avengers...” he trailed off, then sighed and cuffed a hand into his hair, “I’m not sure I’ll get any help there. I’ll have to deal with this guy myself, try to catch him, or stop him.” he shrugged.  

What was he supposed to do with a criminal mutant though? He didn’t think they’d go to a normal prison like Toomes had, or like Beck would have, so what was he supposed to do if he caught the guy?  

“I can talk to someone about it.” Wade offered, although his voice seemed off somehow when he said it. Peter sat up straighter and looked at him again, seeing Wade was typing something into his phone, 

“Who?” he asked. 

“I know a mutant or three.” he answered vaguely, voice still off and fingers still typing into his phone. Peter lowered his gaze again, recalling the S.H.I.E.L.D files mentioning Wade’s unknown affiliation with the X-Men. He also noticed that Wade didn’t really sound like he wanted to ask his mutant contacts about it...but Peter was kind of low on options. And he’d learned the hard way, more than once, that doing things by himself when someone could help him, often backfired on him. 

But then, sometimes accepting ‘help’ had backfired on him too. 

But this was Wade, and he trusted Wade.  

Wade had literally put a gun to his head fifteen minutes earlier and Peter’s spider sense had been completely relaxed. He’d hid it well, but he’d been kind of surprised. Wade pulling a gun on him had amounted to the same as the time May had thrown a banana at his face. 

His spider sense hadn’t even flickered. Absolutely no danger. Wade was not a danger to him at all.  

“But it’s up to you.” Wade said, and Peter looked up to find the merc had just put his phone away and was walking over to his messy desk to pick his gloves up. 

Peter watched his hands disappear into the black material as he asked, 

“You think they could help?” 

“Can’t say for sure, Pete.” he shrugged, pulled his hoodie zipper up. 

Peter stared at Wade for a moment, now all covered up again, and then he nodded, 

“Yeah, okay, sure-" he was cut off by the default ringtone of Wade’s phone. 

Wade stiffened, seemed surprised, and then he reached down and slipped the phone out of his pocket. And Peter watched him stare at the screen as it rang a few times, his mask eerily blank again, and he was just about to ask Wade who it was, when the man suddenly swiped the screen and put the phone to his ear.  

He didn’t say anything though. But because of Peter’s advanced hearing, which Wade still didn’t know about, he was able to hear the voice on the line crystal clear. 

“Wade?” it was a woman. Wade still didn’t say anything, but his mask shifted as if his lips parted, like he’d been about to speak. “Wade?” the woman said again, tone a little curter now. Then, 

“Hey, Dom.” Wade spoke, his voice a different tone than Peter was used to. Guarded and distant, tense and a little lower in tenor. And Peter immediately felt weird because Wade had turned to the side, wasn’t looking at him. And he didn’t know if he should leave, maybe, or, probably go out of the room? Maybe go take a shower and let Wade talk? 

“Hey. So, Weasel just called me. Said you wanted to contact me. Why didn’t you just call me yourself?” she asked, voice more neutral.  

And she sounded...pretty, if that was possible.  

Peter had no idea who the woman was, or why Wade had been wanting to contact her. But he started thinking of Wade texting just a moment before and wondering if Wade had been texting about this woman while they’d been talking? His stomach formed a new knot all of a sudden, and when Wade said ‘uh’ into the phone and then looked at him, more knots formed, along with tension in his body. He felt his face heat up too, because it was like he was being looked at for intruding! He immediately got up and made a random gesture at the bathroom door as he moved toward it.  

He didn’t look back at Wade as he closed himself into the bathroom...having left his own bedroom to give Wade privacy, to talk to some woman! What the hell was he doing?!! He clenched his jaw. He hated how stupid he could be sometimes! Why the hell hadn’t he stayed right there and listened to- 

He halted that train of thought abruptly and blinked, and then narrowed his eyes, pouting stiffly, because he realized that he could still listen to the conversation!  

Peter went close to the door and focused his attention, and it was a bit of a strain because even though his hearing was advanced, it was still affected by barriers like walls and doors.  

He was very easily able to hear Wade saying, 

“-mber, you know I go through phones like I go through bullets.” his voice still different than Peter was used to, but there was something familiar about it as well. And it was a little more difficult to hear, but he was also able to make out the woman on the phone, who responded with a sound like a snort, 

“Didn’t you have my number written down on that Hello Kitty notepad on your fridge?”   

Peter’s brow creased at hearing that, because what she’d just said, implied she’d been to Wade’s apartment before, which, okay, maybe they’d known each other a long time or whatever. But what bothered Peter and poked at his insecurities, was that he didn’t even have a general idea of where in New York Wade even lived, and he and Wade were supposed to be a couple.   

“You’re right, I do,” Wade was saying in a lighter tone, “right under my not so lucky lottery numbers.” 

“That’s not how my powers work.” she sounded amused and exasperated, “ And why do you even play the lottery, Wade, you have so much money.”  

“My money is like my time, I spend it on doing a lot of stupid shit I can’t always account for. I can never have enough.” Peter frowned more as he listened, “And I’m still not entirely convinced you do have powers.” Wade responded, and more and more Peter could hear Wade’s voice returning to normal. He sounded lighter, and like he was joking around, maybe teasing. 

“Whatever. ” Peter could almost hear her eyeroll, “ And yeah, I know you waste money, Weasel said you bought a private jet the other day, and then when he asked where it was, he said you didn’t remember.” she commented dryly while Peter’s jaw dropped,  

“What did he want me to do? Put it in my fucking pocket.” the merc asked, “I had more important shit to do.” 

“I could really use a private yet.”  

“Well, you should use that imaginary power of yours to find it, then you can have it.” 

“You weren’t talking shit about my powers back in Poland, when I managed to stop that zombie wolf pack from running off with your-”  

“Hupupupup,” Wade interrupted her with exaggerated gravity to his tone, “we don’t talk about Poland.”   

Peter, still leaning against the door, finally closed his mouth but continued to frown when he heard the woman huff, 

“Aaaallright, if I find the jet, I’m keeping it.” and then when she asked, “So, what do you want, Wade?” there was a clear underlying fondness to her exasperated tone. 

“I, uh, I kind of need a favour. It’s important.” Wade answered without missing a beat, and he sounded serious about it.  

And hearing that Wade needed a favour made some of the anxiety Peter hadn’t even properly acknowledged he was feeling, simmer down. A favour didn’t sound...cheaty. Uugh. He wanted to bang his head against the door the instant the thought entered his mind. He felt like such an idiot thinking Wade, really insecure Wade, would cheat on him! He also felt so childish for being so immaturely jealous over a damn phone call.  

“-sy now, so I can’t really talk.” the woman, Dom, Wade had called her, was saying. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna’ need more than a minute. When are you free?”  

“Depends, is it a merc job?”   

Merc job? Wait, what? Was she a mercenary like Wade?  

“Nah, it’s actually, uh, sort of a personal favour. I need some info and some help with something.” Wade’s tone was very hesitant, and then there was a pause of silence in the call, and Peter glanced around the bathroom, wondering if he was about to be caught eavesdropping. But nothing happened, there was no movement outside the door, and eventually she sighed and answered, 

“I’m skeptical about helping you after how things were the last time we saw each other, Wade...” and okay, Peter didn’t like the way that sounded at all. It was very ex-couple drama sounding. Not that he had personal experience, but TV could be educational in some ways! Also, Wade didn’t respond right away, and that was worse somehow, but she picked up the silence, “...but you actually sound, I guess, kind of different somehow.” she added, and what the heck did that even mean?  

Wade responded with, 

“How about I buy you dinner?” out of nowhere, not even acknowledging what she’d said, and Peter made a face, “You still like that Thai place on West 48th street?” 

She hummed shortly, then said, 

“Yeeeeah, I do.”  

“So, whadya’ say? Pretty sure I owe you.” 

“Yeeeeah, you do. The last time we ate together you got bad guy blood all over our food.” Wade chuckled, like it was a funny memory, “ And I paid for it.” she added, unamused. 

“I never carry a wallet when I work, it ruins the lines of my-" 

“We both know that bullshit excuse only worked on Dopinder.” she cut Wade off and he laughed again, but in a more ‘ha ha’ way.  

Peter just kept frowning, because wow. She knew him well. She also knew Weasel...and Dopinder.  

And all of what he was hearing was just shining a glaring light on the fact that Peter still knew almost nothing about Wade. And yet Wade was so far involved in his life already, and he hadn’t even seen Wade’s face...and they’d already gone as far as oral se-  

“Okay, fine. I’ll meet up with you. Tomorrow night? Around, maybe, eight?”  

“Fan-fucking-tastic, I’ll wear my sexiest little black dress.” 

“Please don’t, one time was enough.”   

“You know it looked good. I killed in it.”  

“You literally killed in it, Wade, we were on a job. And nah, it showed too much cleavage.”  

“Sounds like something someone who wears a push up bra would say.” Wade was plainly teasing. 

“We both know you’re the one who’s worn a push up br-.”   

“Good talk, Dom!” was Wade’s abrupt response, cutting her off, “I’ll see you tomorrow night, don’t tell anyone I said hi. Okay, bye now.” he was fake laughing by that point, and it sounded like the woman was saying something else, but then the talking just stopped and it went silent outside the door.  

Huh? Had...had he really ended the call like that?  

Peter was still frowning, still trying to process the entire conversation, not even sure which parts were jokes or real things that had happened, but he couldn’t puzzle it out, because he realized he was in a silent bathroom and that it was really suspicious. So, he leapt across his small bathroom and started noisily beginning the process of brushing his teeth, running water from the faucet unnecessarily.   

But after two minutes, when there was still no sound from the room, or even a knock on the bathroom door, Peter was the one who became suspicious. He finished up brushing his teeth, rinsed his mouth out and not even bothering to dry his face off, he left the bathroom, swinging the door open and stepping out.  

And he didn’t even need to look farther than the empty bedroom to know Wade had left . He just knew .   

“Is he serious, leaving like that? What the fah...” Peter trailed off, cuffing a wet hand up into his hair and feeling genuinely miffed. He clenched his jaw a few times as he looked around the room pointlessly. Nothing was moved or changed, and there was no new note or anything, just his messy room. Even the dents in the bed covers where he and Wade had last been sitting were still there.  

Peter took in a deep breath and let it out irritably and then he walked forward to his bed, trying not to think about what he and Wade had been doing in the bed not long ago as he moved the blanket around to find his phone.  

When he did, he unlocked it and found there was a new text from Wade. Peter glared at the phone for a moment in disbelief, angry that Wade had texted instead of just knocking on the bathroom door and saying something, anything, even just a damn goodbye. Peter opened the message and immediately his face turned red in embarrassment as he read it; 

it was real quiet thawt mayb u   

were poopin, ddnt want to disturb.   

Dnt 4get to eat mor. txt me wen ur   

free bb boi   

It was followed by the usual string of kissy face emojis and Wade’s emoji signature and Peter really hoped Wade was just making an excuse for leaving and he didn’t actually think Peter had been... 

He face palmed, 

“Ugh. Asshole.” he mumbled into his hand. It definitely felt like an excuse, and Wade was such a dick for just bailing without even saying anything. So much had happened between them and Wade still just left like that?   

Peter had been feeling so good earlier, but not so much anymore.  

It wasn’t great how the moment Wade was out of sight, Peter started to feel doubt start to creep back in, along with so many unanswered questions and frustrations which would stay on his mind and plague him. He wanted to think he knew what he was doing, that he was making mature and clear choices, but he’d already gone so far with Wade even though they hadn’t ‘known’ each other very long, and that seemed impulsive, not mature.   

He wasn’t sure that the amount of lapsed time mattered, not particularly anyway, because he knew he was free to set the pace he wanted for a relationship and he knew Wade wasn’t rushing him. But he still felt off, like he was more invested than Wade, like maybe he was being strung along or something.  

But even those feelings he wasn’t sure about; he doubted his doubts!  

But as he stood thinking about it, taking stock of his feelings, he could admit that he didn’t feel any regrets about how fast they’d been moving, not really, not about anything except...except he really wished he’d at least seen Wade’s face already. Not having seen Wade’s face properly felt like it was worse than if he’d been sleeping with someone without knowing their name.  

He had an unpleasant lump of dread in his stomach again and he sighed wearily, his mood having been totally ruined. He dropped his hand from his face then to look at his phone again. There was only one other message there. MJ had replied about two hours ago. Peter opened the message, and as he read it the dread in his stomach turned into that weird feeling again, all mixing in with his anxiousness.  

Mj’s text read; 

I know fine doesn’t mean fine.   

If you need to talk let me know.   

Miss you.  

And it was the last two words that really ramped up Peter’s anxiousness, because why would MJ say that after months of no contact since they broke up? What the heck was that about!? 

“I can’t...I can’t deal with this now.” he said out loud, voice strained, and dropped his phone back on the bed, leaving both Wade and MJ’s messages as read and unanswered. He didn’t want to think about Wade or MJ or anything to do with feelings and sex and relationships and exes and...ugh, whatever!   

Peter unnecessarily slammed the bathroom door when he went back to take a shower, deciding to just deal with blue energy guy and his blood sample for the day. 

And that night, on patrol, he’d work off his irritation with Wade and his confusion about MJ.

...embroidering the pain on every speck of skin.

When Wade hung up the phone on Domino’s friendly, upbeat ‘you’re a douchebag’ parting greeting, he was both stunned, and oddly pleased, but definitely more stunned, by how that conversation had gone. When he’d, perhaps a bit hastily, texted Weasel to give him Domino’s number, before Peter had even confirmed he wanted the help, Wade had had zero fucking expectation that Dom would call him directly . And so fast. And so fucking casually! What the fucking fuck!?  

They hadn’t parted on the greatest terms. After what’d happened with him threatening and hurting Weasel in front of her, they’d seen each other exactly two more times. And as she’d mentioned, one of those times had ended with Wade killing a mark he’d just happened to see leaning out of an apartment window, about six floors above where he and Dom had been getting something to eat off of a food truck. Needless to say, gravity had brought the resulting mess right down on them and their food. 

After that, their contact had dwindled to nothing, especially after Wade lost his phone for the umpteenth time, and had just never bothered saving Dom’s number back into any of his phones. Honestly, he wasn't even sure why they’d stayed in contact as long as they had. And he was especially surprised that she’d even joked with him. He’d been under the impression that she hated him.  

But apparently, she didn’t.  

Fuck, the call had caught him totally off guard.  

Originally, he’d intended to text her about Peter’s mutant issue once Weasel forwarded him the number, he’d intended to keep it impersonal as much as possible, but now the situation felt different and it made him uncomfortable. Because it made him wonder, made him think that she actually gave a shit about him. And that , that knowledge, that someone he’d treated badly, still cared about him...goddammit, it got him right in the fucking feels.  

Speaking of feels, and way more importantly than worrying about Dom, Wade was feeling quite like a true piece of shit. He’d totally bailed on Peter like an absolute fucking bag of gangrenous dicks! Fuck, he was pathetic. It was like he was destined to fuck things up...  

Earlier, when the call had ended, he’d quickly turned away from staring at his black phone screen to look at the bathroom door. And it had been silent for a beat, before he’d heard water start running. And Wade had no idea what Peter had been doing in there, but he had known he needed to take a breather and get his head right. Because his reality had started to seem like it was too good to be true all over again, and if Peter had walked out of that bathroom in nothing but a towel or something, he might have been tempted to take out his gun and reset himself to test his reality. Or, the alternative of him not shooting himself, would have been to act on his desires. And it’d already been hard enough to keep his mouth and hands from straying too much when he’d been giving Peter head, especially to one place in particular that he was pretty sure the younger super had never, ever been touched before, not even by his own hands.  

And considering he’d also noticed how Peter seemed to be quite willing to do sex stuff, even when he was obviously nervous, it made Wade feel equal parts like he’d really lucked out, but also like he was always walking the line of possibly taking advantage of the younger super somehow. The idea of Peter letting him do something with him sexually, despite it being too soon or too much, made Wade feel nauseous and sleazy.   

In the end, Wade hadn’t wanted to test his self-control and possibly push Peter’s boundaries by starting something, so, feeling confused and weirdly happy, and fucked up and lowkey stressed, he'd needed to leave, so he had. Cowardly and assholish as it was, he’d just crossed the bedroom, pushed up the window and ducked out as fast and as quietly as he could. 

He’d texted Peter a flimsy excuse before he’d even reached the bottom of the fire escape.  

He knew it was a dick move, a real fuck up moment for him, but it’d felt necessary. 

As it was, he was still sporting a stubborn semi since he’d sucked Peter off, because holy fucking terrifying cows, the sight of Peter, the sounds he’d made, the feel of him, the scent and taste of him. Wade hadn’t wanted to stop, hadn’t wanted to get off his fucking knees. And those thighs , those thighs around his face, skin so smooth, and fuuuuck, so much power under all that soft smoothness.   

Wade hadn’t been serious when he’d mentioned it in the kitchen. It’d just been his brain to mouth filter failing to keep his dirty thoughts to himself. He’d actually been quite content to just watch the adorable and sexy younger super eat and smile and be all fluffy from just waking up...but then Peter had laid out the option to get some, and daaayum , what was Wade supposed to have done??   

Now his balls hurt, like, really, he had critical blue balls, but he knew leaving had been the best thing to do...for himself and for Peter. The younger super would be pissed off, of course he would, but at least Wade wouldn’t be feeling like he’d pushed Peter too far in terms of sex. As it was, Peter had been jumpy and nervous during the blowjob, but he hadn’t voiced it, hadn’t even made a token protest or asked for a timeout to regroup. Wade had just made sure that he did not go too far himself, and he’d made sure it was really good for Peter.  

Now though, he just really needed to get home and get himself off like ten times, and he’d absolutely be thinking about Peter while he did so. Every. Single. Time. And Peter, wow, he was not making it easy for Wade to stay in control. For all that he was sexually inexperienced when compared to Wade, Peter was fucking hot and he was a quick learner when it came to teasing and touching and he was good at being coy and he was always so into it and so receptive, but also dominant in many ways too, and so reciprocal in every way. And sometimes he was even a little seductive, whether he realized it or not.  

Wade was pursing his lips tightly under his mask as he walked along the busy sidewalk presently, and he shook his head once to try to clear it of the perfectly crisp, very recent memory of Peter coming down his throat. He could still taste Peter on the back of his tongue, and he could still feel the way Peter had held his head in place right at the end, probably without even realizing it...fuck. So, so good.  

Wade had been fighting his gag reflex a few times, but he wouldn’t have minded chok- 

He shook his head again, a little more violently, and fisted his hands in his hoodie pockets as he stalked along the curb, his gait a little awkward as his dick remained stubbornly half stiff in his jeans. And he made a point of ignoring the people glancing or looking at him in question, concern and confusion as he muttered curses at himself for his increasingly dirty thoughts.  

He had to force himself think of something else.  

Right, okay, so, maybe thinking of his call with Dom was better, safer.  

Yeah, his oddly normal, throwback sort of call with Dom. She’d said that he sounded different?  

He knew he’d been starting to feel different since getting together with Peter. Happier, less shrouded in hatred and misery, less homicidal, but was it that obvious? And what was obvious? He still felt angry and murdery, and he still felt like he hated himself...but then again, when he was around Peter, he kind of started to forget those feelings of loathing for himself, and almost everyone else in existence.  

So, he still hated himself, hated how life had screwed him over, hated how he’d fucked himself up, hated how the world constantly gave him the finger. But, yeah, it did feel easier to bare when he was around Peter, when he was with Peter, when Peter was smiling at him and touching him, gross skin and all, without any hesitation. Vanessa had been like that and Wade had never imagined he’d ever find anyone after Vanessa.  

But every moment he spent with Peter, the possibility of it, the reality, of them being an actual couple , became more real and so much clearer. It was happening, it really was...or it had been? Wade had just gone and fucked up again by leaving without even saying anything.  

“Fuck!” he cursed out loud as he walked, making several people walking by him flinch away and give him a sudden wide berth. He kept walking a few more feet, then abruptly veered left off the curb into the street, hailing a cab by more or less just stepping into the road. A car screeched to a halt first, but behind it was a cab, so Wade walked by the car, valiantly ignoring his need to be violent when the driver cursed at him. He was not above giving the asshole the finger of course, and when he reached the cab he got in and told the cabby his apartment address like an order.  

The cabby had looked like he wanted to say something, but ultimately, he didn’t.

Wade went straight home, and with nothing to do besides stay home, he did exactly as he’d intended to. He jerked off, more than once, vigorously, and with a very colourful and imaginative variety of fantasies aiding him. After the evening and morning he’d spent with Peter, his spank bank stock more than sufficiently supplied him with new sexy material, full of details and possibilities and some very naughty scenario ideas.   

After he’d successfully accomplished relieving himself of critical blue balls status, he then ordered a heap of different take-out foods deliberately from two different places nearby, knowing from experience they had similar delivery speed times. And then he left a fold of bills, $500 worth of a tip, and a note stuck to the door with a piece of duct tape. The note, written in a blue glitter pen, read; merry christmas you lucky bastard.   

Wade then hummed to himself as he went to take a shower, and maybe jerk off again.

Twenty-five minutes later he reemerged wearing sweatpants and a pullover hoodie, with socks on his feet as well as a pair of Captain America bed time slippers. He walked up to his apartment door and pulled it open, popping his masked head outside. Sure enough, his food delivery parcels were neatly set down side by side beside the door, and further down the hall there were a few torn off pieces of a dollar bill, as well as a single worn out sneaker lying askew. And Wade couldn’t be sure since it was too far away, but that was probably a small smear of blood on the wall.  

Wade snorted. Results always varied, but it never failed to be entertaining. Would they split the money? Would they fight for it? Or would one just luckily arrive a minute or a few seconds earlier than the other and take it all? It seemed they’d had to fight that time around.  

Wade grabbed his food bags and kicked the door shut as he went back inside. Then he relaxed on the couch and ate and watched some TV, and then ate some more and channeled surfed, and then after two hours he decided he could not stay home. He was too fucking awake and too fucking bored. 

It was new for him, or at least, new for him since the blip. Usually, unless he had a job, Wade preferred being inside alone , but he felt restless, he felt like he wanted to do something, like he wanted to go out and do something that wasn’t necessarily murder.   

He was stunned and annoyed by the feeling that had long ago become foreign to him, but he didn’t fight it.

Wade suited up and went to Hell House.  

The mercs and other sordid company there were surprised to see him, Patch included. Most of them avoided him still, which didn’t surprise him, but at the bar when he ordered a row of shots, Patch lined them up without question. But as soon as Wade got through them, Patch started asking Wade if he was looking for work.  

Wade said no, because he wasn’t. And then he ordered more shots.

The distance has been not so kind.

An hour later he’d instigated a fight between two other mercs, just like old times, except there was no dead pool on the wall and Patch was not Weasel, he was not amused.  

Fuck, they were boring.  

Wade left Hell House and did something he hadn’t done since before the blip. He called Weasel for a non-job related reason. It took two rings for Weasel to answer with a tired sounding ‘yeah?’. Wade had been walking down the street away from Hell House but he stopped walking and let it really sink in for him that he was hoping Weasel would say yes when he asked, 

“You wanna’ get fucked up?” 

Weasel was quiet on the line for several long seconds before he asked, 

“Is this a job requirement, because if not, hard pass.”  

Wade stood stock still with the phone to his ear. And oh yeah, now he remembered why he preferred not to feel things, because being blown off, feeling a twinge of hurt feelings in his gut, made him want to shoot someone, anyone...often himself. But it was his fault Weasel was turning him down and he knew it, he’d been treating Weasel like shit ever since the guy came back from the blip.  

Wade had one of his fists clenched very tightly as he reigned in his urge to demand Weasel do what he said. Instead, he brushed it off with, 

“Nah, was just bored. You have a good evening, Weas. Don’t masturbate too much.” in a tight but pleasant voice and then he hung up, not caring that Weasel had been starting to say something toward the end of his speaking.   

Wade started walking again, and Weasel almost immediately called back. He glanced at his phone and processed the urge he had to chuck it into the street, but he knew he couldn’t just be tossing his phones anymore. Because Peter...Peter who was probably so incredibly pissed off at him. 

He hadn't even replied to Wade’s last message, even though it’d been read. Ouch.  

“Fuck.” he muttered, and with forced calm he switched the phone off instead.  

Wade took in a deep breath as he put the phone back into one of his pouches. He told himself to just own it, to be sincere and deal with it in a really nice way. Not about Weasel, Weasel could get fucked. 

No, for Peter.  

He decided he’d make it up to Peter. He’d call Peter tomorrow morning at a reasonable hour, apologize for being a fucking idiot, and then he’d ask about when they could see each other again. And then he’d maybe buy Peter something, or he could take Peter somewhere really nice for a date, or something else boyfriendy. That seemed like a good idea. Google could probably help him come up with some ideas.  

But right then, he was restless and bored and he knew Peter was either doing Avengers stuff or he was out on patrol being a very sexy spidery superhero, and Wade didn’t want to mess up Peter’s patrol and cause any problems, like with the gun thing. So, he was alone for the night, like so many times in the past...except he really didn’t fucking want to be. 

Abruptly, he clapped his hands and rubbed them together, declaring, 

“Fuck it. I can just get fucked up by myself.” 

And he really could, so he really did. 

I curse this caveat.

Chapter Text

...if we're in love...

Wade woke up, presumably the next day...out on the ocean.

The bender started with the usual healthy dose of cocaine and pills, mixed with copious amounts of liquor. And then the last thing he remembered was that there’d been a dodgy bar, a biker gang, someone dressed up as Elvis, some people had definitely died and at some point, he’d been shot in the head.   

Next thing he knew, he was waking up on the upper aft deck of a mega yacht with the sun beating down on him like it wanted to give him melanoma... 

Pfffffffft. As if. He cracked up laughing, curling over onto his side from where he’d been lying on his back. It wasn’t even that funny, he’d probably just been lying in the sun for too long and had sun stroke, but laughing was always better than waking up groaning in pain and confusion. Well, there was still pain, but nothing more than the usual.  

As his laughter tapered off, he rolled onto his back again and when he absently moved to place a hand on his stomach, he noticed that he was holding something in each of his hands. Wade frowned, and finally opening his masked eyes, he lifted both hands up to look. In his right hand was an empty bottle of whiskey held at the neck. And in his left hand...was another hand, a man’s hand, bloody at the messily severed stump, the thick pale grey fingers stuffed into a fingerless, scuffed black leather glove.   

Okay...yeah, so, seemed it was just the hand.   

Wade let go of the whiskey bottle, pointlessly glancing around as if the rest of the body might appear, but no, nope, just the severed hand, which had gone through rigor mortis while attached to him and as a result it had a really firm grip. 

“Eeerg.” Wade sat up abruptly and started to shake his hand to try to get the other hand off, “Quite the grip you have there, probably spent a lot of time squeezing balls, huh?” he grumbled, scrunching up his nose when dark, gross half-congealed blood and dangly flesh bits flicked around. The appendage had started to stink too. Ick. “Come on, Thing, you need to learn to take a hint, buddy. I’m just not. That. Into. You.” he shook a few times more, much more violently, until the hand finally dislodged and flew off somewhere. Wade didn’t even look, he just leaned over and reached out to another dead body lying nearby and wiped his gloved hand on the man’s nice, albeit already bloodstained, grey suit pants.  

He checked the palm of his glove afterward, which was far from clean, and muttered, 

“So gross.” before looking around from where he sat. There were a few other dead bodies around on the deck, and looking up to the navigator cockpit on a higher deck, he could see that the dude in there looked dead too. Wade squinted up against the sun, aaaand yup, the helmsmen dude’s brain squish appeared to be decorating the cockpit.   

Finally getting to his feet, he glanced over himself, making a face when he saw he had on some random biker jacket worn over his suit. He removed the jacket and held it up, cocking a brow at the unknown biker logo on the back before tossing it aside and reaching up to pull the...wig off his head. Oh, it was an Elvis wig. Well, that explained absolutely fucking nothing. Wade looked down at his feet quickly to make sure he wasn’t wearing white boots, and when he saw his normal suit boots, he shrugged and tossed the wig aside, before walking in the direction of the railing to look down at the lower main deck of the yacht.  

Wade leaned on the railing and took in the aftermath of chaos down on the bottom deck. There were several more dead bodies down there, three of them were even still chilling in the jacuzzi. Many of the bodies appeared to have been armed. Well, with guns. A couple of the bodies didn’t have both, or any, arms any more. But their arms were around, Wade could see em’ down there. Their guns were lying around too, and there were many bullet shells scattered all over, and lots of blood, and so much destroyed expensive yacht shit. 

But yeah, pretty much everyone in sight seemed to be dead. 

“Hm, okay.” Wade raised a gloved hand to stroke his non-existent chin beard, “So...dead bad guys.” he deduced, or more like really fucking hoped.  

There was some anxiety in his chest over whether his bender had led him down the right path. Usually he liked his targets vetted, but sometimes, when he felt impulsive and spontaneous, he just followed a trail to see where it took him. But there’d been occasions during the blip were not everyone he killed would turn out to be entirely bad. And he’d never really given much a of shit before, sober or drunk, but now the idea made him anxious...because, because Peter. Being better for Peter. 

Fuck.  

“Fuck.” he hung his head, “What the fuck is wrong with me.” he just couldn’t seem to stop being a fuck up. Although...he abruptly stood up straight, turning around to look at the deck he was on, “Okay, there’s still a chance I haven’t totally fucked this up, I need to confirm these are dead bad guys.” and honestly, from what he could see as he walked across the deck, the whole scene gave him a bad guy vibe. But he’d been drunk and high, so he had to know for sure. Still, he muttered, “Bad Deadpool.” to himself as he walked toward the doors leading inside of the yacht.   

See, the thing was, when Wade wanted to get fucked up, he went to fucked up places, which generally and ultimately led to him finding fucked up people, which usually led to him doing some work off the books. Pro boner, you know? And that was fine, and it would stay fine, so long as it turned out they’d all been bad guys, because it they weren’t and Peter found out...  

He sighed frustratedly as he entered the interior through the open glass doors, and he reached up to hold the grip of his katana while glancing around the room for any potential bad guys still alive, who might shoot at him. He couldn’t afford to take any more headshots and lose any more time, as it stood, he had no fucking idea what time it was, and he was on a fucking yacht, so he also had no idea where the fuck he was. Before entering the yacht, he had seen land on the horizon in the distance, but what land it was, he had no clue. He just knew it hadn’t looked very New Yorky.  

He passed two more dead guys inside but there was still no sign of anyone alive. What he did see further in though, made him stop and take notice. At the top of the cabin stairs, which led down to the lower cabins, was a single black Louboutin stiletto. It was a Pigalle too, the classic favourite, although personally, Wade preferred the Daffodile.  

He couldn’t help frowning and cocking a brow when something odd occurred to him, and he cast a considering glance around at the dead bodies he could see, also thinking about what he’d seen outside on deck. The shoe was very out of place. He hadn’t yet seen any women’s bodies anywhere, not-a-one. And despite his penchant to dress in drag when the mood struck, not only had he apparently opted to be Elvis the night before, but the shoe was also about four sizes too small for him, so it sure as shit wasn’t his. He leaned over and picked up the heel, 

“Always gonna’ be the ugly step sister.” he muttered to himself, before adding, “Seems I have a Cinderella to find.” then, holding onto the shoe, he went ahead and unsheathed one katana before going down the cabin stairs.   

As he walked through the lower cabins, he spotted a few more dead guys, and he paused briefly to admire their mutilated states. They’d clearly died in very painful ways, and it made him wish he could remember killing them just so he could savor the memory. Sometimes his own creativity impressed him-, buuuut, he was getting off track.  

What was actually important to note, more so than his sadism issues, was that there were no dead women in the lower cabins either. Now, he killed women criminals too, he was still iffy on whether it made him sexist to beat them or not beat them first, so when he killed them, it was usually clean and quick. Basically, if there’d been bad guy-girls around, they’d be dead too, but since there was a woman’s shoe, but no dead women, it meant he’d specifically not killed any women. So then... 

“Sex traffickers.” he clenched his jaw, the leather of his glove squeaking from his tightening grip on his katana.   

Wade really fucking hated sex traffickers. Worse types of bad guys.  

He’d cleared the lower cabins, all except for the main berth in the very back. So, feeling particularly stabby after the revelation they were more than likely sex traffickers, Wade headed toward the last room, where he could see the door was partially open. He pushed the door open without hesitation and the first thing he saw when he walked in was the dead head honcho, looking every bit like a filthy rich crime lord; slightly overweight with scraggly facial hair, wearing a half open bath robe and some gold bling. He was dead though, like everyone else on board, lying sprawled in the middle of the big bed. Wade tilted his head as he observed the bullet wound in the dead center of the man’s forehead, dark with the blood that had congealed there, along with several dried dark streaks which had leaked down over his face. His light brown eyes were wide open in fear.   

Wade had a flash of memory then, of how the man had begged him, offered him money...  

Wade blinked evenly and then tracked his eyes down to where there was an extensively large red blood stain in the robe material around the man’s crotch area. So, he’d probably shot the guy in the dick. Good. Not like it was unusual, he tended to do that sort of thing when it came to rapists and human traffickers. 

He relaxed somewhat, out of his tense, angered state, since everyone worth killing seemed to already be dead, meaning he just needed to find Cinderella. So, from where he stood inside the doorway, he looked around the rest of the room, and bingo! He spotted another piece of women’s clothing, a black dress. It was a strappy thing, and it was small, which matched the shoe. The dress was lying on the floor near the bottom of the bed. It was an expensive dress too, much like the shoe. Fucking bastards liked to dress up their sex slaves.  

Wade narrowed his eyes, figuring he was looking for a petite woman...God, maybe not even a woman. Filthy fuckers really had a thing for underage girls. He was clenching his jaw again as he took a step toward the closed bathroom door in the room, but then his phone chimed and he stopped walking. 

He considered ignoring it since he was busy , but the idea didn’t sit right for one important reason, 

“Shit.” he muttered, he had to check, in case it was Peter. Wade dropped the shoe and resheathed his katana before popping the clip on one of his pouches. And oh, fuck yeah, not only did he still have his phone, but when he took it out, he saw that it wasn’t even damaged! Holy shit! It was so rare that it happened he was amazed. He must have been more careful with it. Heh, imagine that.   

Wade unlocked it and saw he had a few messages. Six were from Weasel, which he ignored completely, swiping them all away, and then there was a text from Dom, letting him know she’d be about an hour late to meet him...and, that was it. There was nothing from Peter. Peter still hadn’t answered. Probably wasn’t going to. He swallowed tensely, feeling new anger blooming in his chest, all directed at himself. He screwed his eyes shut and cursed violently in his head. He’d left things in such a shitty state the day befor- 

The day before!?  

Wade checked the date and time on his phone just to make sure he hadn’t lost too much time and hadn’t fucked up even worse, or worser than even worse! 

“Phew.” he sagged exaggeratedly when he saw it was only the next day presently. He’d lost about eight or nine hours to his drug and alcohol fueled ‘fucked up’ spree, but it wasn’t too bad. It was still early morning, just before nine AM, so he could still make it to meet Dom to get Peter some help with his mutant issue, and he could still text Peter within a fairly reasonable span of time. 

On that topic, he quickly opened their text thread...only to find he had already texted Peter, about six hours earlier. Wade read the text he’d sent;  

What text emojis do spiders  

use when they’re happy?   

::::D   

Wade’s eye twitched as he read the absolutely, embarrassingly stupid spider joke he had no memory of sending Peter. It wasn’t even a good or clever fucking joke! And it was seen , but Peter hadn’t answered, because of course he hadn’t! Wade stared at the phone, wondering how he could recover from such a dumb thing being the first text he’d sent to Peter after leaving the previous afternoon in such a shitty way.   

“Fuuuuuck.” he cursed again, hitting his forehead once with an open palm, and then he sighed out loud to calm down, pinching his fingers over the bridge of his nose. He decided he needed to try less joking and more seriousness, so he typed out a new text to Peter, and of course the text started with an apology, because all Wade could do was apologize for his dumbass ways. He hesitated a few times to add the next two words, but in the end it was true. He felt it, hence the reason he thought to type it. He finished the text then and reread it. 

 He’d made a point not to type short hand, hoping the text would carry his sincerity better if it weren’t so messy. In the end, he sent;  

Sorry about yesterday Pete  

I know I suck. Miss you.  

Dont be mad.   

And he added a sad face, choosing not to send his emoji signature either.   

The text was seen almost immediately though, which made him very anxious, especially when no typing bubble followed. After almost a minute of nothing, Wade made a whimpering sound. He’d barely had Spider-Man as a boyfriend for a month and his texts were already being ignored! 

“Fuck me. Fuck me sideways with fucking Lucille, how could I fuck this up!?” he breathed out emphatically and then he growled irritably, and just wanting to be done with all this shit, he walked the rest of the way to the bathroom door and opened it hastily.  

He heard a gun go off, as well as a high-pitched shriek. 

Wade looked down at the newly bleeding hole in his chest, which was a few centimeters to the side of his heart. And even though it wouldn’t have affected him even if it had hit his heart, considering the girl who shot him had her eyes closed and was cowering in the corner of the shower stall, shaking like a leaf, Wade thought it was actually kind of an impressive shot.  

She was breathing panicked and shallow as she opened one eye after a few seconds, maybe to check if he was dead because he hadn’t said anything or made a sound, but then she started to make another shrieking sound when she saw him just standing there, looking from her to the bullet wound. Eyes shutting tightly, hands shaking, she pulled the trigger again. 

Wade just lifted his hands and said, 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” even as another bullet lodged itself in his abdomen. 

Then his phone pinged in his hand and he immediately turned his attention to it, opening the message from Peter, which read;  

Not mad, just disappointed.  

Wade made a pathetic whining noise and immediately sent a string of sad and crying emojis to Peter, ignoring the girl still cowering in the shower stall, who was no longer shooting, but was muttering something in Spanish. The message was sent, and then seen and again there was no replying speech bubble. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” Wade whispered to himself, and then he abruptly looked at the girl, who flinched and continued pointing the gun with shaking hands. Just as her fear and confusion were plainly visible on her face, Wade’s sadness was clearly expressed on his mask, “He’s disappointed in me, not mad at me, disappointed. That’s so much fucking worse. Fuck, he’s gonna’ break up with me!” 

She was wide eyed now, even her breathing was quieter and she seemed stunned as she stared at the bullet wounds in his body that were clearly not affecting him. She spoke in Spanish again, voice shaking, and Wade understood her when she asked 'what are you? ’, but he didn’t bother to respond to that.  

He just looked at his phone again, saw there was still no incoming reply, waited a few more stomach tensing seconds, and then he sighed and put his phone away before turning to the girl again, holding his hand out, 

“Come on, gimme’ the gun, I’m here to help you.” he spoke in a gentler tone and made a gesture with his fingers for her to hand the weapon over as he leaned into the stall slightly. She was still shaking and wide eyed, and she tensed up, but then she blinked her make up smudged eyes a few times, and with only some hesitation, she allowed him to take the gun.  

He quickly disarmed the weapon, more out of habit than anything else, and put the gun aside on the bathroom counter before he grabbed a white button up shirt that was hanging on a hook beside a towel bar. It had definitely belonged to the dead asshole in the room, and he held it up with one hand for the girl to see, while extending his other hand to her,  

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”  

She was understandably wary, glancing at each of his hands for a long moment, but either she understood him, or she realized there was no threat of violence forthcoming, because she slowly breathed out a shaky exhale and reached out to take his gloved hand with both of hers. He easily pulled the small woman, or probably girl, to her feet, and once she was standing, a bit awkwardly since she still had on the one heel, he held the shirt up more pointedly in front of her so she would take it and put it on. She was mostly naked, all she had on was a panty, and while she seemed to barely notice at first, she was starting to come around and she quickly let go of his hand to take the shirt and put it on.   

Wade grimaced and clenched his jaw as he looked at a large bruise on her face and some faded ones on her neck, having already seen a few other marks on her, which were now covered up by the shirt she was buttoning up. The size of it easily swallowed her up and almost reached her knees in length. 

“Jesus Christ, how old are you? Sixteen?” possibly younger. She had buttoned up almost all the buttons and she just blinked at him where she stood, still shaking slightly inside the shower stall, “Sick sons of bitches.” he griped to himself, before offering a hand again to help her step out.  

He was starting to have more memory flashes of what had happened the night before, and he remembered there being other girls on board the yacht. They had all been locked in one room, he recalled seeing them when he’d been looking for anyone else he’d needed to unalive. But where were they now? Had they all fled? And how, by swimming? He hoped they’d survived if that was the case, at least the shore wasn’t too far away...  

He was considering that as he walked behind the girl out of the bathroom, patiently moving at her uneven pace, careful not to touch her unnecessarily, for her own comfort, but close enough to help her if she needed it. Once in the room though, she became distracted by the dead guy and she stopped walking, looking at body on the bed with wide, wet, terrified eyes, yet her gaze was also filled with raw hatred. Wade felt a pang of sympathy for her rising up underneath his own hatred and anger. 

“It’s okay.” was all he could say, even though it wasn’t okay, “He’s very, very dead. They all are, they can’t hurt you anymore.” he added, and she blinked her wet eyes and glanced back at him. He didn’t know if she understood him, but when she looked at the body again, she suddenly spat on the floor and cursed the dead man quite colourfully in Spanish.   

Wade was nodding, feeling relieved and even a little proud of how alive she still was. He’d seen so many girls in her position with no life left in their eyes after whatever they’d been through. 

“Yeah, that’s it, atta’ girl.” he encouraged her, watching as he spat again and glared, her small shoulders heaving with her anger. “He’s a piece of shit, no doubt, but you’re all fire, you’re gonna’ bounce right back.” she turned to look at him again then, looking furious but also so young and lost, and Wade, being himself, pointed to one of his guns, “You want to shoot him a few times?” he gestured from his gun to the man’s body, and then repeated the question in Spanish for her. 

Her eyes widened when he spoke Spanish, and then stayed wide as she actually seemed to consider it, but after a few seconds her shoulders started to sag again and she vaguely shook her head. Wade knew then that she was tired and scared and was probably very ready to leave. Still, he asked, “Okay. You feel ready to go now?”  

She took in a few more deep breaths and then she looked to the dead man again, hissing out another insult at the body before she finally turned toward the room exit and started walking again. She had one bare foot though, and she was walking carefully, but there was a lot more glass and blood and broken shit along the way. So Wade scooped up the other heel from where he’d dropped it, 

“Here,” he started in English and then switched to Spanish, telling her to put the shoe on, and that she should be careful where she walked so that she didn’t slip. She’d stopped walking to take the shoe, and as she leaned against the cabin wall to put it on, she nodded in understanding.  

They made their way out of the lower cabins after that, and Wade watched her steps from behind as she navigated through the mess on the stairs and floor of the upper cabin. She seemed a bit calmer now, no longer shaking so much, and while she was still nervous and jumpy, she still glared at all the dead bodies they passed. Once they were outside on the deck, there was less glass littering the wooden floors, and the open air and sunshine seemed to make her relax a bit more. 

Wade felt sick. He could only imagine how much time she’d spent being locked in different rooms.  

She slowed her pace just before they rounded the corner that led into the side walkway of the yacht, more or less falling into step beside him. Wade didn’t know if it was because she was scared of running into anyone, or if it was because she didn't know where to go next, but then she started talking out of nowhere. She started telling him in Spanish that the other girls had all run after he’d kicked in the door the night before, that they’d all decided to brave the water in the dark and swim back to land.   

He’d already figured as much, 

“Why’d you stay behind?” he asked, and she looked at him again, blinking her black and purple smudged eyes. Wade went ahead and repeated the question in Spanish, and then she nodded and answered that she couldn’t swim. He facially shrugged in response, nodding. Made sense. “None of you thought about trying to sail this thing closer to shore first? I literally killed all the bad guys for you and then passed out drunk.” he said mostly to himself as they reached the narrow stairway leading up to the cockpit. And it seemed she had a very loose grasp on English, because she seemed to both understand and not understand him, when after a few seconds she answered that they’d all been terrified of him and they’d just wanted to get away. Or maybe she was just telling him he’d terrified them? That was possible too. 

Wade nodded,  

“Right, right, I get it.” he agreed and she also nodded.   

He put a hand out then, stopping her and gesturing for her to fall behind him before he ascended the stairs, wanting to go up first just in case. And just as well, because when he entered the control cockpit, she quickly ducked behind him, pressing herself between his back and the wall to hide. Turned out there was a second body lying on the floor beneath the controls, but the guy wasn’t dead, yet. He was barely alive, but he was conscious enough to register them, and he very sluggishly moved his hand to reach for a handgun on the floor beside him. He looked real close to being dead, having bled out a shit ton already, and he seemed to be doing a bad job of holding his guts in.   

He wasn’t yacht staff though. He was wearing an expensive suit, and Wade knew he was someone who’d probably been a big shot in the trafficking ring, because when the girl said,  

“Señor no-muerto, por favor mátalo.” Wade noted that she sounded terrified and near tears. 

He had his Desert Eagle out in a second and in the next, he shot the man in the head, twice, adding his brain squish and large fragments of his skull to what was already present in the cockpit. 

The girl jumped behind him when the gun went off, but she didn’t move away from him, even as she was shaking all over again, she was squeezing her small hands in a tight grip on the back of his belt and his left forearm. Wade unclenched his jaw as he reholstered his gun, 

“He’s dead.” he tried to say it somewhat gently, but he was so fucking angry. She didn’t seem startled by his voice though, and so he kept his tone softer when he spoke in Spanish, asking her to stand back so he could throw the bodies out.   

She took a few seconds to move away, but on shaky legs she walked over to one of the bolted down control room seats, and once she sat down, Wade moved over to grab each body one by one, tossing them down the stairs so they piled up at the bottom. He’d have to move them again when it was time to leave, but he just didn’t want the girl having to look at them. As it was, she didn’t watch him move the bodies, she just sat trying to control her breathing and fiddling with her messy long hair, pulling it into some semblance of order, likely just to distract herself.   

Wade didn’t disturb her, knowing she was probably on the verge of shock, and by her sheer force of will alone, she was somehow managing to keep it together. So, after the bodies were removed, he just turned his attention to the boat controls, and ignoring the blood and brain matter starting to stink inside the hot space, he focused on familiarizing himself with the control dash.   

Once he had the yacht started up, they started moving, and hands on the helm Wade began steering the very large yacht, maneuvering it carefully and in a wide arc to get it turned around on the water. It was after about ten minutes of sailing when the girl broke the silence, asking him if he was a superhero. 

Wade replied in Spanish that he was a contract killer. 

She didn’t seem fazed by hearing that, she just nodded and continued fiddling with her hair, while staring at the floor. After another few minutes she mumbled a ‘thank you’ to him. Wade didn’t say anything to that, but as they neared the unfamiliar landmass his stomach sank and he asked her, 

“Where is this, where are we?” repeating the second question immediately in Spanish. She looked at him and with a confused and worried expression she answered, 

“Cuba.”  

Wade blinked rapidly and turned to look at her, 

“Did you just say Cuba ?” she blinked at him, looking more worried, probably in reaction to how stricken he looked, “Cuba??? Are we in-, am I in Cuba right now ?” he was starting to wheeze. 

She nodded, brown eyes wide, and then she asked what was wrong. 

Wade turned back to the controls and pushed the speed gear lever to the max as he yelled, 

“FUCK!”

Getting back to NYC from Cuba was not easy, not when he’d gotten into the country illegally in the first place.  

He had nothing on him, no real or fake ID, no change of civilian clothes. And as if the universe fucking hated him, when they’d made land fall on a beach in Matanzas, not unalike how Sandra Bullock and not-Keanu Reeves had in Speed 2, when he pulled out his cell phone to contact Weasel, his fucking battery was dead.  

Also, while he could have done a number of things to get out of the country, all of which would have been hasty and dangerous, but effective, Wade wasn’t willing to just ditch the girl. He needed to take her out of Cuba and take her somewhere she’d be safe, or she’d possibly just end up back on the streets, or she’d get trafficked again. He knew what it was like for the girls snatched off the streets and taken into sexual slavery, he’d rescued plenty of them over the years. Their circumstances were difficult and brutal and almost impossible to escape. And even though there were so many who needed help, she was the one he was presently responsible for, so he wouldn’t leave her. 

In the end, about eight hours later, using all the money he had on him and after some running around, threatening people, a phone call to Weasel on the emergency line, and one less than legal charter flight organized post haste, he was able to get the girl, and himself, ‘safely’ out of the country.

Getting to NY, Wade prioritized Cinderella -he’d started calling her that at some point, much to her rather accepting confusion- and he took her straight to someone he knew and trusted who helped out girls just like her. The problem was, his contact wasn’t in NYC proper, they were in Yonkers, so after dropping her off with his contact, making sure she understood that she would be safe and also telling her how she could find him if she ever needed to, he left her there.   

Fortunately, it only took him about a half hour by car to get to Manhattan. Unfortunately, he was running late to meet Dom, and in all the hustle, he hadn’t been able to charge his phone, leaving him unable to check his messages or contact her...or Peter. So, when he finally got back to NYC, the first thing he did was head to West 48th to meet Domino, because he didn’t want to piss her off when the bridge between them was barely mended, especially since he needed her to help Peter .  

He’d at least seen the text saying she’d be late before his phone had died, and even though he was still later than her late, it was only by about 15 minutes when he arrived, walking into the Thai food place...still in his fucked up suit; weapons, stray blood splatter, bullet holes, smelling rank and all the fucking rest.  

And he felt as disgusting as he smelled too, because he’d been sweating like a pig on that yacht for hours before and after he’d woken up, and under his suit it was no fucking party. Also, his breath smelled like stale, funky booze inside his mask, and his mouth felt dry and sticky, his saliva too thick. Over all, he was feeling super gross and super irritable and super frustrated. He almost couldn’t believe that there’d been a time when he’d gone days and days in a worse state during the blip. 

Big cringe memory.  

Dom was unsurprisingly already there, he spotted her immediately where she was seated near the back of the place, at a table against a wall. The restaurant was pretty busy, but she managed to stand out without even trying, rocking a fantastic afro faux hawk with a red leather jacket, over a tight white tank top. She was stunning really, very eye catching.  

“Honestly, she might as well have blue skin.” he mumbled audibly as he made a beeline for her through the layout of table and chairs, ignoring the people in the restaurant who stared at him with wide, shocked eyes and leaned away from him with various different looks of disgust, wariness and disapproval.   

Dom, like everyone else, spotted him, and she raised her eyebrows, watching him approach with a placid and unimpressed expression. When he reached the table, he sat down quite heavily in the chair across from her, the legs squeaking on the floor tiles under his sudden weight. She did little more than bob one eyebrow at him in reaction, before trailing her eyes over his poor state, while taking a sip through a straw from some kind of orange fruit drink. It looked yuck. 

Wade gave her a moment to look her fill and when she met his masked eyes again, he said, 

“Hi.” as lightly as he could, then he added, “You look great.” because she did. But when she smiled in that self-pleased way of hers, Wade was quick to tack on, “About five years younger than you should actually.” before he reached across the table to take her drink.  

As the straw slipped from her lips she leveled him with a deadpan glare, although whether it was because of the comment or for taking her drink, he had no idea, but he also gave no fucks, because he was so fucking thirsty. He dug his fingers into his mask under his chin, just enough that he could pull it out and forward, allowing space for the straw to go under so he could drink without showing his face.   

He proceeded to drain the glass completely, slurping loudly when he hit the bottom. Domino watched him without comment, her eyebrow twitching when he slurped. And just when he finished and muttered that the drink was gross, giving a full body shudder, she said, 

“Well, you look like shit. And you smell like B.O, death and cheap liquor.” yup, that was Dom. Honest as ever, and also, she wasn’t wrong. He did smell like exactly those three things. He knew it. The cabby who’d brought him to the restaurant knew it too. And especially Cinderella, bless her, she’d weathered it like a champion for hours .  

“Thanks.” he put the glass down, slid it aside, “That’s what I was going for when I woke up this morning on the deck of a 150-foot yacht off the Matanzas coast, surrounded by the rotting bodies of dead sex traffickers.” he said quite pleasantly as he tucked his mask back into place. Domino just blinked at him, then shook her head, and she was about to say something when a very wary waitress approached the table. She didn’t seem to want to come too close though, seeing him sitting there, but she was carrying an order of food and Dom waved her closer, 

“It’s okay, just ignore him.” Dom said with a smile to the woman and Wade also tried to smile at her through his mask, but he doubted it was reassuring in any way at all. The waitress specifically approached more on Dom’s side of the table and she tried not to look at him. She set the dishes down in a hurry and left again. Wade wiggled his fingers in a wave at her retreating back.  

He didn’t pick up the conversation after the waitress left. Usually, he ran his mouth a mile a minute, but he was too distracted by his physical discomfort to talk excessively. Fuck, he really just wanted to rip the mask off...the whole suit actually. It had been the kind of day where the spandex and leather were really getting to him, chafing his ever healing-aching skin in a way he found hard to ignore. His skin was probably even bleeding in many places. He was so sticky, hot, sore and uncomfortable.  

“I didn’t order anything for you,” Domino piped up, “didn’t think you’d want to eat in a public place.” she gave him another once over as she prepared to start eating her big bowl of delicious smelling noodles. And shit, Wade was so fucking hungry. But her not ordering him anything, assuming he wouldn’t eat, made sense, since after the blip, Dom had taken notice that he’d stopped removing his mask in public, even just within their small circle. Other than occasionally folding it up to drink, he’d always been wearing it. So he couldn’t fault her for her decision, 

“It’s fine.” was all he managed to gruffly say as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

Domino had just put some noodles into her mouth when she paused and looked at him suspiciously, 

“You seem weird.” she said around her half-chewed food, speaking in a tone that suggested she was confused about his behaviour. Wade couldn’t help it though, he felt very tense and aggravated. He was sitting stiffly in the chair, back straight, one leg crossed over the other to the side of the table, one arm folded over his lap and the other on the tabletop, tapping the surface in no particular rhythm.  

He didn’t even respond to her statement, he just tilted his head.  

She frowned and after a moment of eyeballing him she said, 

“Okaaay.” before continuing to eat. After a few more mouthfuls, she looked at the empty drink glass and sighed, sliding her pointedly annoyed look over to him next, “So, how’d you end up in Cuba? You didn’t even answer my texts and you were late.” she leaned back in her seat, her hair bouncing softly as she folded her arms over her chest. 

Wade tilted his head the other way, 

“I...may have indulged in contraband substances last night which led to me ending up in Cuba however I have very little to no recollection of whatever the fuck followed after the peak of the binge so I cannot regale you with any particular details.” he said it all without pausing, and then inhaled slowly afterward, smelling sweat, blood and stale alcohol breath inside his mask. Gag. 

“You went on a bender?” she wasn’t really asking, already shaking her head knowingly. 

“Basically, yeah.” he nodded slowly, sort of bobbing his head back and forth. 

She made a face then, suspicious, confused, curious. 

“You could have texted me for a raincheck, you know, because you really need a shower, like, yesterday.” she leaned forward, picked up her chopsticks, “I think just you being in this restaurant is a violation of at least twenty health codes.” and she was about to go back to eating when he snapped, 

“I know!” voice a low growl. Dom, despite pausing at his outburst, just gave him another even more unimpressed look.  

Wade forced himself to take in another slow breath, reigning in his temper. His skin, which was hurting as it usually did, felt worse and was getting to him ten times more than usual. But he had to keep things good with Dom, for Peter’s sake, so when he spoke again, his voice was more measured, calmer,  

“Look, I know, okay. I’m stuck in here with my smell.” he gestured to himself with the hand on the table top before continuing to tap, tap, tap his fingers, “But my phone battery died, so I couldn’t contact you, and I didn’t want you to think I was blowing you off because I didn’t want to piss you off, because I really need that favour.” another breath, “So I came here, like this, directly.”  

Domino narrowed her eyes at him then, and it annoyed him that she was analyzing him for being so straightforward and honest, but Wade didn’t call her on it. He’d always actually really appreciated her, she was one of the good ones who he didn’t think should have ever had anything to do with him. Also, she’d always been unfazed by his moodiness, even before the blip, and she’d always been snarky but honest with him. And of course, a little mean. But that was because she’d never seemed afraid of him, just wary. Although, that last point was probably because her unfair super power would keep her safe from him and she knew it. Wade also just liked her though, which meant that he had never felt any inclination to be violent toward her, not before the blip and not much after the blip.  

“Fuck, it’s hot in here.” he said to break the silence that was dragging on way too long. Also, hopefully to stop her staring. And it worked, she stopped staring and slowly went back to eating. Wade watched in silence as she enjoyed her noodles for another two minutes, and then he informed her, “I also spent all the money I had on me getting back into the country, so, you’re paying for your dinner.” She dropped her chopsticks into the bowl and glared daggers at him across the table. Wade raised his shoulders, “What?” splaying his filthy gloved hands, masked eyes wide, “Unforeseen circumstances, it’s not cheap to illegally flee a country.” was the excuse he offered. When she continued to glare, harshly, he added another excuse, “I’d scan my phone to pay for it, but my phone is dead, remember?” oh, but another issue, “Also, it’s a burner and I haven’t actually put any personal app facilities on it.”  

He was just making it worse; he knew it by how her glare intensified and she was working her jaw.  

Then she closed her eyes, shaking her head slowly before she reopened them, saying, 

“Fuck, you are such an asshole.” on an exasperated breath. 

Wade nodded in agreement, while distractedly wrapping his fingers more irately on the table. He was more focused on how shit he felt, hating how the mask was starting to feel a bit suffocating. And he knew she was pissed, and he assumed he’d just fucked up, half expecting her to get up and walk out. So he started trying to work up the energy to beg her to stay. Also, he’d need to apologize and somehow sound sincere about it- 

“You’ve always been an asshole.” she followed up and he nodded again. But then what she said next floored him, leaving him truly stunned when she sighed and added, “You live near here right? Let’s just go to your place.” Wade didn’t even blink, he just stared at her across the table until she rolled her eyes and looked at him like he was a stupid fuck, “That way you can charge your phone, dumbass. And you can get out of that disgusting fucking suit and take a shower, and we can talk about that favour you need without you twitching, snapping and just generally scaring civilians.” and she was making total sense, but he was still trying to process how nice she was being to him. When he still didn’t respond, she folded her arms over her chest again and asked, “Or would you rather stay here?”  

And no, nope, that was a hard fucking no ! He did not want to stay there.   

He was just surprised Dom was being so accommodating to him. Before the blip, he wouldn’t have been surprised, and also, it hadn’t been unusual for her to come around to whatever apartment he’d been staying in back then, even after he’d moved out from living with Al. But after the blip things had been different, they hadn’t done visits anymore. 

Even, so, he wasn’t about to question her about it. He just said, 

“Fuck no.” then he stood up, telling Dom, “I’ll wait for you outside.” before he walked away, weaving through the tables and barging out of the restaurant within a few seconds. He stepped out onto the sidewalk with relieved flourish, causing alarm to the people walking by on the sidewalk. Many of them almost walked into him, some even making noises of disapproval. But if they’d been thinking of saying anything, they changed their minds after getting a good look at him, and all his weapons, and they just kept walking. Everyone else who came along also gave him a wide berth, intent on avoiding him.  

Wade was used to it.  

Dom took a few minutes to come out, considering she had to pay the bill, and when he heard the door open behind him, he did a one-eighty to look at her. She paused with her hand holding the door open to look up at him, and after an awkward moment, Wade turned again and walked to the edge of the curb, where he immediately started trying to spot a cab he could hail in the moderate traffic.  

Dom came over to stand beside him, 

“You’re acting really fucking weird.” she stated. 

“Yeah, well it’s been a weird couple of weeks.” he responded shortly. 

She stared at him sidelong for a moment, and then she facially shrugged before stepping ahead of him, just off the curb, looking from side to side.   

And as if by magic, at that exact moment, a cab literally just turned the corner into the street they were on, and Wade could only gape under his mask as Dom put her hand up and the cab drove right up and stopped in front of her. 

“I hate your super power, you absolute fucking angel.” he said emphatically as he stepped forward, pulling the cab door open for her.  

As she got into the cab she was smiling again, in that smug self-satisfied way of hers. But then she rolled her eyes at him and called him ‘annoying as fuck’ when he didn’t close the door after her and instead gestured for her to scoot over so he could get in on the same side.

Peter watched Wade get into the cab after the woman who was called Dom. He didn’t even look down to where the spider drone had returned and was reattaching itself to his chest. 

Presently, he was sitting on top of the building in which the West 48th Thai restaurant was located.   

He hadn’t intended to swing by the place Wade had mentioned during his phone call the day before, it wasn’t like he’d planned it or had wanted to be so stalkery. But after Wade texted to apologize and then went dark again for the rest of the day, Peter had just been so annoyed and frustrated. And having no way of contacting or finding Wade, always having to wait for the older super to come to him or contact him first, Peter had decided to swing by the only Thai restaurant on that particular street in Manhattan, just in case he spotted Wade.  

In the end, he’d swung by a few times, in between swinging around the Manhattan area looking out for trouble. And when Wade still hadn’t shown up by 45 minutes after the time he and Dom had talked about, Peter had thought it was a bust and that Wade just wouldn’t show up at all. 

So he’d given up, but he hadn’t left Manhattan right away, having gotten caught up in stopping an attempted high jacking turned shoot out with some police, and then stopping a purse snatcher not long after. When he’d finally decided to take his patrol elsewhere, for no real sensible reason he’d swung by the restaurant again. It was almost an hour and fifteen minutes later than Wade and Dom had agreed to meet, so it was really silly for him to be obsessing, but  it turned out to be a good call.  

The merc had shown up. Peter had only just managed to spot Wade too, right before he’d disappeared into the restaurant. Although, if he hadn’t been in full Deadpool gear, Peter probably wouldn't have even noticed him.  

His first reaction had been to immediately get angry, feeling really pissed off, and also more than a little hurt, that Wade would not read or respond to his texts for hours and hours, and then when he did show up, it was to meet some other person. Probably had even rescheduled considering how much later he’d arrived to meet her.  

Peter had landed on the roof above the restaurant after he‘d seen Wade go inside, and he’d taken out his phone, checking his messages again to confirm that, yup, Wade still hadn’t even read his messages. He’d been so upset in the moment, he hadn’t even questioned how morally wrong it was when he’d detached his spider drone, sending it down to stealthily enter the restaurant.  

It hadn’t been difficult for the spider drone to slip inside the restaurant and crawl along the ceiling, and once he’d spotted Wade through the drone’s visual feed, he’d settled the drone bug close enough for him to listen in on the conversation Wade was going to have with the woman. The woman who he’d prioritized over even so much as contacting Peter first.  

It wasn’t like him to be so suspicious and sneaky, not really anyway, but his emotions always fluctuated a lot around Wade, because he liked Wade so much, but Wade was such a wild card, a total rollercoaster personality. So when the merc’s behaviour and mood got twisty, Peter’s seemed to get twisty too. He hadn’t even known he could be so attached to, and affected by, someone else’s feelings until Wade came along. And even listening through the drone, Peter’s emotions had been up and down, jumping from anger, to incredulity, to shock and confusion, concern, then more anger. But in the end, after Wade and the woman had left to go to Wade’s apartment somewhere in Manhattan, Peter was just left feeling  really crappy.  

For one thing, he felt guilty for spying, especially after hearing Wade explain that his phone battery died. And considering the circumstances he’d explained himself being in, he’d obviously had no way to contact anyone, apparently not even the woman, Dom. So Peter, having wanted to see if Wade had just been ignoring his texts or avoiding him, and previously feeling so justified in being angry, was presently left feeling bad for eavesdropping like a total creeper, and for not trusting Wade in the first place.   

But Peter also still felt angry! Because Wade was so inconsiderate and irresponsible! Just going off on a ‘bender’ that landed him in another country! Seriously!? And then there were the feelings of insecurity and uncertainty about the validity of his relationship with Wade. It wasn’t even about cheating really, Peter didn’t think Wade would cheat on him, whether it was because of Wade’s skin or not, and despite the fact that Dom was so attractive, he didn’t think Wade was the kind of guy to cheat. But...  

But he still felt insecure and uncertain for other reasons, like the fact that he was once again reminded of how excluded he was from the details of Wade’s life. He didn’t know any of the people Wade knew, any of Wade’s friends. He didn’t even know where Wade lived. Didn’t know any general information about Wade’s living habits, his lifestyle, which from the snippets he’d been glancing, sounded so ridiculously dangerous and crazy. And still the worst of all the negative points, was that he didn’t even know what Wade looked like! Well, okay, he had that photo, but that was not what Wade looked like in the present. It didn’t count.  

It was so damn frustrating and upsetting...but damnit, as much as he hated to admit it, Peter knew that he was not without fault in the matter. He’d been allowing and accepting a lot of Wade’s evasions and disappearances, letting him get away with it without much complaint or questioning. He’d also been allowing their physical relationship to develop quickly, despite Wade still not having completely revealed his face. Peter knew he could say no, could have said no anytime, could have put a stop to all sexual physical contact, but again, he liked and trusted Wade, trusted him sexually. He trusted that Wade would back off without hesitation if he even so much as hinted that he was uncomfortable or didn’t want things to go any further.  

But even when he was nervous or feeling overwhelmed, Peter still wanted Wade to touch him, so he kept making concessions, while Wade didn’t seem to be making any moves toward opening up about his life, or taking his damn mask off...  

Peter knew he had to draw the line, he had to put his foot down, with himself and Wade. 

“I have to stop.” he told himself, standing up from where he’d been sitting down with his back to the parapet of the restaurant’s rooftop. He started to pace around the rooftop, “It’s on me to make sure I know more about him before I let things go any further.” he was nodding to himself, hands on his hips, “He never comes on strong unless I initiate something first or I let him know I want him to, which is pretty unfair.” he paused in pacing, frowning so that his mask lenses narrowed, “He’s putting all the choice on me which is not cool,” he sighed and shook his head, “but also is cool.” he groaned then, holding his head in his hands, “Ugh. I’m an adult.” he felt like exactly the opposite though, whenever he had to tell himself that, “I can decide when, and what I do, and who I do it with,” he dropped his hands, “but I can’t go any further with Wade until I know...until I know more about him. No, no, not just that, not until I see his face.” he decided with fake confidence.  

He was about to keep pacing, but his spider sense went off with a lowkey warning and Peter immediately moved. He was still on patrol, no slacking off!

It was almost a half hour, and one thwarted –almost turned violent- convenience store robbery, later that Peter was still swinging around Manhattan, but he’d just started moving north, spreading out his patrol of the area. He was changing things up as he swung with a flip here and there, and he also did some running and crawling and jumping on the buildings. It was good exercise and it kept him busy, kept him distracted.  

He’d just landed on another high rooftop, and as he kept running, he decided to reach for his phone. He was heading to jump off the building, thinking maybe he’d do a cool flip or pose in midair and take a selfie to add to his personal collection. But just as he pulled his phone out of the concealed pocket, it pinged with a notification, and Peter started to slow down. He was right near the edge of the building though, so he let the momentum carry him into hopping up onto the ledge, where he stuck himself before crouching down. Comfortably perched and balanced on the building’s roof ledge, he unlocked his screen. 

There was a message from Wade.  

Peter opened it a bit hastily, half expecting it to be some song link, which would piss him off all over again. But it wasn’t. It was an actual text message, which like much earlier that day, was written with less awful shorthand, as if Wade was trying to show he was being serious in his texts. 

The last messages Peter had sent were still there; 

::::D joking  

Are you busy rn?  

They were now showing as being read, because Wade had finally charged his phone and had switched it on to check his texts. Peter read the reply; 

Sorry Pete battery died  

Not an excuse I swear   

Was dealing with bad guys  

I couldnt charge it anywhere  

But Im done now all sorted  

You ok? Still missing u  

That time the message was followed by a single heart emoji and no emoji signature, just like earlier. And just like earlier, the ‘missing you’ is what had Peter tripping up and softening his resolve and wanting to just forgive Wade. Those two simple words were threatening to do the same thing to him right then.   

“Ah man.” he stood up, walking along the ledge as he tried to think of what to do or say. Peter rubbed his masked forehead with one hand while staring at his lit-up phone screen held in the other. He didn’t want to just let Wade keep getting away with inconsistent contact and disappearances and then patching things up with sweet words. He needed to put his foot down...or, or at the very least, get Wade to open up to him more.  

He sighed, stopped walking and dropped his arms, groaning up at the dark sky, 

“Come on, don’t just give in. Don’t be so pathetic. Handle this.” he had to tell himself, because he really wanted to just give in. He wanted to just forget about it and tell Wade to come over to his place, where they could chill and talk and laugh and make o-, “No, nono, no more making out, not until, not until...until he opens up to me a little more.” he told himself. And yeah, he was already lowering the bar he’d set just earlier.  

But, okay, get Wade to open up more. How to get Wade to open up? He couldn’t demand it, Wade certainly hadn’t demanded a friggen’ thing from him. It needed to happen sort of organically, somehow.  Maybe he could ask Wade what he was doing, see if Wade responded with something about Dom, maybe start a conversation about the people Wade knew, maybe Wade would admit she was there at his apart-  

“!” Peter snapped his fingers and his mask lenses widened with his eyes when an idea came to him. It involved some minor orchestration on his side, but still, he wouldn't be demanding or forcing Wade into anything! Peter looked at his phone screen again and typed a message to Wade; 

You’re done, not busy?  

Where are you?  

He sent it and pursed his lips, starting to walk along the ledge again as he watched to see the moment Wade read the text. Anxiety started building in his chest though, when he considered the fact that Wade might, again, not read his text for hours. He was going to be so- oh, Wade read it. The typing bubble appeared and Peter felt a little better. 

Yah, dne wrking  

Job suckd  

Didnt even get $$$  

Butt pro boner wrk is good  

Rite bb boi?  

U proud of me?  

Peter snorted at Wade’s -definitely intentional- misspelling of pro bono right after typing ‘but’ with an extra ‘t’. And then he was smiling fondly all over again, seeing how Wade had gone right back to his awful way of writing messages, as well as noting how a real time typed conversation was very much like how talking with Wade was. As in, he kept going, the typing bubble pending and sending, 

Im at hm  

Gt no clean suits  

Wrkn 925 is hard  

No tym 2 do laundry  

Mayb I shud get a maid  

in a sxy french maid outfit  

Wut size r u bb?  

Bet ud luk so fkn hawt  

Once again Wade had Peter’s head spinning and his emotions fluctuating up and down, because Peter had been about to get annoyed at Wade thinking about hiring some girl to work around his apartment in a skimpy maid outfit. Then Peter was blushing and feeling indignant because Wade was suggesting he’d be attractive working around his apartment in a skimpy girl's maid outfit. Peter was about to type a response because Wade had totally hijacked the convo and Peter’s idea was getting derailed, but Wade’s speech bubble was still going and beat him to it; 

I shud get 1 for myself 2  

I cud def pull it off  

with heels too  

my legs look gr8 in heels  

A bizarre image of Wade in his Deadpool suit with a French maid’s costume over it popped into Peter’s head, and he quickly frowned and shook his head. Then he sighed in frustration, because his imagination had just reminded him that he could barely picture Wade, not even just his legs, without the damn suit on. While Wade had already seen him –and touched him- practically naked!  

Peter felt a weird sense of shame come over him again and he beat Wade to typing when he asked; 

Can I come over?  

Because that had been Peter’s initial idea, to get Wade to admit he was at home so that he could ask if he could come over. Wade technically shouldn’t have any reason to say no, especially after admitting he wasn’t doing anything. So, either he’d say Dom was there, or he’d say yes. Or if he said no...well, then Peter would have to take the painful emotional hit of Wade saying no just because the merc didn’t want him to know where he lived.  

And it was already looking bad, because his message was read, but now the speech bubble wasn’t there, and so...Wade was just not answering him. Peter felt a lump form in his throat as one whole minute passed with no reply, then it became two and then three and he sighed heavily, swallowing sorely. He was obviously doing something wrong and coming across like a fool if Wade thought it was okay to keep brushing him off and dodging him. Peter had thought being accepting and going slow would make Wade come around naturally and be more open, but it seemed it was having the opposite effect.  

He dropped down to a crouch again and then shifted to sitting on the ledge, breathing out another sigh, 

“I, I can’t just keep letting it go.” he mumbled to himself, because he knew he had to stop it, it was just going to get out of hand. So either he stopped it and confronted it, or...or he had to just give up on trying to be with Wade. He didn’t want to end up getting hurt by his own eagerness. If Wade was going to keep keeping secrets and lying by omission and keep avoiding him whenever he wanted to, then Peter couldn’t keep chasing and waiting. His life was complicated enough...  

But the idea of it being over with Wade so soon, before it even really got started, it really hurt. Peter had started to feel attraction to Wade right from that night they’d met again in the Bronx. And since then, despite the time they’d spent together not being all that much, he’d already gotten in pretty damn deep. He liked Wade’s personality, his quirks, his laugh, his sense of humor and his smile. And he definitely liked Wade physically too, as a man. He found Wade’s body type attractive, and Wade’s voice, both when it was normally deep or when he was singing in that ridiculous falsetto. And he liked Wade’s hands, he actually liked...he liked their overall size difference. His face felt warmer even just thinking about it. But while it was embarrassing, it was true and he could admit it to himself. There was also the fact that Wade made him feel good, and happy, and somehow safe and cared for and...and... 

“This really sucks.” he breathed out, eyes starting to burn.  

Peter could only wonder, as his thoughts became more and more negative, whether Wade had ever really intended to take him seriously. Because like everyone else older than him who knew he was Spider-Man and knew how young he’d been when he started, they all still treated him like a kid. Maybe Wade was the same on some level, maybe the merc ultimately saw him as an eager, stupid ki- 

His phone pinged a notification.  

Peter had his hands hanging between his knees, so he just turned the phone over. It’d been almost ten minutes since he sent his text, so the screen had gone black and he had to unlock the phone.   

He was somehow emotionally unprepared for Wade’s message though, because he felt like a massive weight was abruptly lifted off his shoulders and off his chest when he read; 

Sure thing babe  

You cming now?  

305 W13 th Street, aprtmnt 703  

Window or door?  

Peter swallowed around the lingering lump in his throat as he smiled and sniffed softly, placing a hand over his face, 

“Get it together, Parker. Stop being such a damn drama queen.” he told himself and then he took in a steadying breath and typed a reply, 

In my suit, on patrol.  

The window?  

He sent it, saw it was read immediately and the typing bubble popped up again; 

got it  

window wide opn,  

left side of building  

Top flr  

C u soon bb  

Peter stared at the winky face at the end of the message, wondering if he should reply or just get going. He never really knew what to reply to Wade’s emojis and endearments. He’d never been good with that stuff. He and MJ had never really talked or texted like that either.   

Thinking of MJ reminded Peter that he hadn’t replied to her last message from the day before. Her ‘miss you’ had hit differently than the way Wade’s had. And between being mad and sad about Wade and stressing about the unfathomable meaning behind her random text, Peter had been feeling out of sorts. 

But right then...he was starting to feel a little better, happier, actually. 

That was the affect Wade seemed to have on him.  

His attention quickly came back around to the fact that he had Wade’s address and that he’d been given the go ahead to go to Wade’s place. He stood up and did a quick turn around then, feet easily balancing on the ledge as he stepped in a half circle, looking at the buildings around him to gauge where he presently was. He was still in Manhattan at least, and the address Wade gave him would take him only about five minutes by web to reach.   

With a small smile on his lips under his mask, and feeling like he’d managed some small victory, Peter jumped off the building into a flip, then he let himself free fall before shooting out a web just above traffic. And just as he’d wanted to, on his upwards arc, he struck a pose and snapped a selfie.

What had actually happened when Peter had texted to ask if he could come over was as follows;  

Wade fucking panicked.

He’d been sitting on the single sofa in his living room texting with Peter. His phone hadn’t even fully charged, but once he’d come out of the bathroom, after cleaning himself up from head to toe, he’d been as impatient as a motherfucker to see if Peter had texted him back. And Wade had been so relieved to see he had! The sexy younger super had even used the lame eight eyed happy spider text emoji!  

So, Wade had been texting with him while Dom had been sitting on the three-seat sofa, where she’d been blabbing on about some X-Men story that Wade was 100% not interested in listening to. Frankly, back when she’d been a freelance mutant merc she’d had more interesting stories to tell.  

And they hadn’t even started to discuss the blue energy possible-mutant dude because while he’d been in the bathroom, Dom had settled down and was watching TV while eating a bag of chips she’d found in his kitchen. And then when he’d come out of the bathroom, she’d continued watching some show on the massive flat screen, while eating and talking. And Wade, having grabbed his phone before he’d even left his bedroom, had been too caught up in replying to Peter to talk at all. And really, the dynamic between Dom and him was both different and the same in many ways, when compared to how things had been before the blip.  

But if Dom noticed, she didn’t bring attention to it, and neither did Wade, because the background noise was actually nice. Having someone else in his apartment wasn’t giving him anxiety either, as it probably would have not too long ago. Maybe it was because it was Dom, or maybe it was because he’d been changing, going back to sort of how he used to be, all because of Peter... 

Ah Peter. Wade had just paused in typing, thinking of how nice it’d be to have Peter be the one sharing his apartment space, wearing a French maid’s outfit, when Peter’s typing bubble popped up, followed quickly by the message, 

Can I come over?  

Cue the panic.   

Because Wade was not about to say no. No fucking way was he going to say no! But his fucking apartment was a mess and he had no clean masks and Dom was there. But he absolutely was not going to fucking say no to Peter, that was not an option!   

He nearly tossed the phone again when he abruptly got to his feet, but he managed instead to drop it on the coffee table. It was still a hard fall, but it probably would still work, so he didn’t check it, instead he looked down at Dom and said, 

“Wow, look at the time.” she immediately paused with a chip halfway to her mouth and gave him a side look, “You should go back to what sounds like an awfully boring life at the X-people mansion. We can talk next time.” he said in a rush as he, gently enough, grabbed her arm, attached to the hand in which she was still holding onto the bag of Doritos, and he pulled her up to standing.   

She was giving him a narrow-eyed look as he walked her to the door, grabbing her handbag off the table for her as they went. Dom was not fazed by his randomness, but she was annoyed, 

“Are you serious right now, Wade?” her tone was unimpressed, “I came here because you need a favour, now you’re telling me to leave?” yep, she was annoyed. She was going to leave though, she had to, because Peter was coming. Wade held her handbag up for to take as he opened the door and she cocked an eyebrow, but she took it without hesitation and after she put the strap on her shoulder, she munched another chip. She was standing just inside the door when she shook her head at him, “I’m not doing this again.” she said seriously. 

And she really meant it.  

Wade knew then that if he didn’t give her a damn good reason, she would leave and never help him.  

Wade stared at her, his face bare, which she hadn’t commented on mind you, and she just stared back, eyebrow still hiked up. He groaned then, annoyed about having to, but deciding to tell her, 

“I’m seeing someone, okay?” barely managing to not clench his teeth. 

Dom blinked at him,  

“Like, a ghost, or a shrink?” she asked quite seriously, glancing around the apartment. 

Wade didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed with her, 

“No, not-” he cut himself off, and then took in a breath, “No.” the second time he said ‘no’ his voice was firmer, “A real flesh and blood, living and breathing, sexy as a motherfucker, actual human being, with the ass of an angel, who is mad at me because I’m a complete fucking shit-for-brains moron. But now they want to come over, and while it’s possibly to break up with me, I’d like to at least try to keep that from happening.” a pause to take in another breath, “So, I really need you to...” he didn’t finish, but his expression plainly said ‘fuck off’ as he gestured pointedly to the open door.  

Dom continued to stare at him and then she blinked again, both eyebrows rising as her eyes widened. Wade could tell she was actually absorbing what he’d just said, while struggling with disbelief. After too many seconds had ticked by, she asked, 

“Seriously, you’re involved with someone? Someone’s involved with you ?” she sounded confused. 

“Your state of bewilderment is understandable, but yes .” he responded as patiently as he could. 

“Wade.” Dom said with sudden gravity. He clenched his jaw, 

“What?” 

She smiled out of nowhere then, and said, 

“That’s great!” and he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach because she sounded genuinely happy for him, “I thought you seemed different when I talked to you on the phone and even earlier at the restaurant. You’ve been, I dunno’, more like you, like I remembered you from before-” she didn’t finish, her smile turning a little sad, but she was still mostly happy when she went on, “So, yeah, it’s unbelievable,” she sounded like she was teasing him, “but it’s great, seriously, it’s obviously been really good for you.”  

Wade stared at her, mouth slightly open, and in the end, he could only think to say, 

“Yeah, I’ve been...feeling different.” chest and throat a little tight, eyes wide. 

“Well, I think throwing me out for this, is something I can give you a pass for,” she conceded, still smiling, "miracles don’t happen every day.” she tilted her head, teasing again as she winked at him. 

Wade half nodded, then snatched the Doritos from her, making her frown and pout before he said, 

“Get out.” with a half-sarcastic smile on his face. 

Her pout turned into an amused expression, and as she turned to walk out, she asked, 

“You said she’s hot? Really? Not sure how you managed that.” still poking fun. 

Wade waited until she’d turned around to face him outside the door to say, 

“’He’ actually, and yeah, I don’t know how either.” 

Her expression completely changed, 

“ He ??”  

“I’ll call you later about that favour, bye now.” he closed the door in her very surprised face, and then he turned around to look at the awful state of his apartment. What a fucking mess.   

Wade inhaled deeply. Okay, it didn’t smell awful, or Dom might have mentioned it, but the air was a bit stale since it’d been closed up for almost twenty-four hours. But Wade had to let it go, there was no way he could clean up in the short amount of time before Peter...got...there... 

“Fuck!” he yelled and rushed over to the table to pick up his phone, tossing the bag of chips down on the cluttered coffee table as he used both hands on the phone. He hadn't actually answered Peter’s message yet! Shit, he was so fucking useless! Wade quickly responded, just going ahead and sending his address to make super sure Peter was aware he was welcome to swing by, literally, since Wade assumed he was on patrol. Possibly even really close by.  

After texting, he once again glanced around the place, looking at the untidy, cluttered state of his apartment. And he hated putting the overhead lights on, so he never did. He only used two tall lamps at two far corners of the room, which meant the lighting was poor, and the maple hardwood flooring and white walls didn’t have much of an impact against the dark curtains, dark furniture, excessive clutter and partially postered walls- 

His phone pinged in his hand and he immediately read the message confirming Peter was on patrol, so he’d come in through a window. Wade looked across the living room, deciding to choose a window not facing the main street. He was just lucky his apartment was much bigger than Peter’s which meant the window he went over to open was still a part of his living room, not his kitchen, bedroom or his...locked room.  

He texted Peter the location of the window he’d just opened and then he walked back across the room and tossed the phone on to the sofa , before heading into the hall, going to his bedroom so that he could find something to cover up his awful fucking face.

He managed to find something relatively quickly after looking through his messy wardrobes, and after he put it on, he gave himself a once over and decided the thin T-shirt, open hoodie and sweatpants he was wearing with socks, was fine. He didn’t need to change his clothes. After that, he left his room in a hurry to head to the kitchen next, stopping in the doorway to stare at the very sorry state of it. There was no time to clean up, so Wade just took in another deep breath to confirm that nothing smelled like it had gone bad. It smelled okay, which meant it was just many dirty dishes and some empty food boxes and packets lying all over. He switched the light off in there, just for the sake of some concealment. 

Other than that, he’d just have to keep Peter out of the kitchen.  

Wade blinked and then groaned, 

“But what if he’s hungry?”  

He turned and hurried to the living room, finding his phone again to order something. And he was in the app, trying to decide whether Peter would prefer Chinese or Indian food, when he heard the ‘thwip’ sound of Spider-Man's webbing just outside his window.  

Wade turned to face the window, which was halfway across the room from him, and sure enough, between one blink and the next, Spider-Man was crouching on his window ledge and looking around the inside of his dimly lit apartment. 

“Hey, Pete.” Wade said to get his attention, and immediately those white mask eye lenses were focused on him. Wade started to approach, holding up the phone, “You want Chinese or Indian food?” 

The eyes of Peter’s mask narrowed, 

“Are you serious?” he asked as he tilted his head. 

Wade blinked, frowned slightly, 

“If you’re not in the mood for those, I could order Mexican, pizza or McDonald’s, but it may take longer to get here. I’m pretty familiar with their delivery tim-” 

“The mask, Wade.” Peter cut him off, tone annoyed. 

“Uh...” Wade blinked and then remembered what he’d put on to cover his face, “Oh! This,” he pointed to the cheap cosplay Spider-Man mask he was wearing, “I can’t even remember where I bought it, I think I was in China-” 

“You’re seriously going to wear it?” Peter sounded really exasperated and displeased. 

Wade inwardly panicked again, because, okay, he wasn’t surprised Peter was upset with him, he had it coming, he deserved it.  

But about the mask, did Peter mean that he should take it off? Like, completely off? 

“I, uuh...” Wade raised his hand slightly, fingers twitching as he hesitated about what to do. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t, but he would take it off, being as he was past the point of saying no to Peter. 

He wasn’t even sure when that had happened.  

He’d just touched his bare fingertips to the chin of the mask when Peter sighed quite heavily, 

“Can you at least roll it up.” he said, sounding very weary. And his tone kind of stung, but Wade knew he deserved it. He watched Peter hop inside, soundlessly landing on the hardwood floor as he pulled his mask off his head. The younger super was looking around as he walked further inside the dim living room, going right past Wade, who slipped his phone into his pocket, food forgotten. He instead did as he was told, even going so far as to roll the cheap material mask up a bit further, to the bridge of his nose. 

Then he tried to explain, 

“Sorry about the mask, Pete. None of my masks here are clean, and I don’t usually mind reusing one a couple of times, but for yo-” 

“Just forget it, Wade.” Peter cut him off again, sounding dismissive about it.  

Again, his tone really stung, and Wade’s stomach was starting to feel uneasy. Usually, he became extremely annoyed when someone cut him off from talking, but whenever Peter did it, it always just made him feel like absolute shit.  

He turned to watch Peter after he’d finished folding the mask up. The younger super was walking around the living room space, fiddling with his mask in his hands as he looked around at the mess of weapons and boxes and the postered walls. Wade felt oddly nervous seeing the way Peter was looking around, like at any second, he was going to turn around and look at Wade, and ask him what the fuck was wrong with him. Judge him about what a mess his apartment was...  

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Peter did a full walk around, until he was coming back toward Wade near the window. Wade noted that his facial expression wasn’t angry, just sort of tired and neutral, but still as youthfully handsome as always. And his hair was partially flat from the mask, but still a little unruly and slightly sweaty, and of course, Wade couldn’t help noticing how his suit clung to him in all the best ways. Looking as carefully as he was though, Wade actually realized he hadn’t seen the suit Peter was currently wearing before. It had a much larger golden spider-esque pattern taking up most of the suit’s torso area, even spreading down onto the arms. It looked really hot, but also really cool.  

“Another new suit?” Wade asked, to fill the silence. His face felt more naked somehow in such a thin mask, but the bare skin actually showing was nothing Peter hadn’t seen or touched before, so he made a point of ignoring it. 

“No.” Peter answered flatly, “I was just messing around with my upgraded suit, the dark blue and red one. I decided to add some nanotech to it.” he explained dispassionately, as if it wasn’t interesting and he didn’t want to talk about it. And okay, they didn’t have to talk about it. So Wade changed the subject, wanting to get some clarification on a more important matter, 

“You, uh, you still mad at me?” he tried to smile. 

Peter had been looking down at a bullet hole in the wooden flooring, but he looked up and directly at Wade when he asked that question. His response was, 

“How cheap was that mask?” tone entirely unimpressed, his kissable mouth in a half grimace, one eyebrow hiked up. And Wade knew the cheap mask wasn’t anything like his own, so his apologetic expression was mostly lost when he answered, 

“Like, $10.”  

Peter snorted dryly. Shook his head. But he kept walking closer. 

And closer. And closer.  

Wade didn’t realize he was backing up until his back hit the wall just beside the window and Peter still came closer, until Peter was almost pressed up against him and fuck, Wade immediately wanted to put his hands everywhere on that fine ass body. 

“I, I thought you were mad at me?” he asked skeptically, voice lowering now that Peter was right up close. His heart rate had increased instantly and his dick was already stirring. Peter smelled good and he looked good and there was something about the younger super being all silent and intimidating that really turned him on...but then again, there was nothing about Peter that didn’t turn him on. 

“I am mad at you.” Peter answered frankly, unsmiling, and then he grabbed the two open sides of Wade’s hoodie collar and used that sexy super strength of his to pull him down into an open mouth kiss.  

And holy fuck, it was a hell of a kiss. Peter was pissed , Wade could feel it through the underlying aggression in Peter’s kiss. But Peter was still kissing him, so he kissed back, not about to question it. And of course, he couldn’t help himself, his hands eagerly settling on Peter’s hips and sliding down, heading straight for dat ass .  

But before his hands made it there, Peter tightened his grip on the hoodie, pulling back from the kiss just enough that their lips were still damp and touching when he said, 

“Don’t get handsy, Wade. I’m still mad, remember.” his tone quite serious, and cautioning and bossy . And it made Wade’s brain short circuit briefly, his cock twitching in his sweats, because as sad as he was that he couldn’t touch, he was so fucking into Peter telling him what he could and could not do. 

“No hands. Got it.” Wade conceded obediently, voice a little high and a little breathy as he lifted his hands up as if he was being held at gun point. 

He felt Peter smirk against his mouth, and then Peter was kissing him again.  

And it was hella difficult not to feel Peter up, especially since he’d been previously allowed access to do so. But he obeyed, keeping his hands to himself and getting harder and harder in his sweats as Peter kissed him like it’d been on his mind, like he’d been wanting to and waiting to and now he was taking what he wanted. Wade was perfectly happy to let him take all he needed, kissing him back but letting him have complete control of the kiss.  

It was after about two minutes or so that Peter decided to end the kiss, drawing back slowly. Wade couldn’t help chasing his lips for a final peck, he was so fucking turned on his head was spinning. But other than that, he just kept still, kept his hands up, only opening his eyes under the mask to watch as Peter took a step back and released his jacket, the younger super licking and pursing his kiss reddened lips.  

Peter was looking at him though, at his mouth, and he felt extremely self-conscious for some reason, because something felt...off. Peter had just kissed him quite thoroughly, but he wasn’t smiling, he didn’t seem happy or relaxed, and his expression was mostly unreadable, but there was tension at the corners of his eyes. Wade tried to think of something to say, but Peter turned around before he could, his suit boots squeaking softly against the wood before he walked away.  

Wade lowered his hands and valiantly ignored how hard his cock was, watching as Peter walked over to the sofas. He was trying to figure out what felt off about the atmosphere because it was making his uneasiness from earlier return rapidly. Peter had stopped beside the coffee table, and he was looking at the mess on the tabletop. There were two grenades, multiple boxes of bullets, a partially assembled Barret Rec 7 assault rifle, a stick of dynamite, a few different combat and hunting knives, a Luger pistol, some crossbow bolts, an old Hustler magazine, some crumpled up money notes and food receipts, the TV remote and a box of crayons...but of all that, it was the bag of opened Doritos that Peter picked up.  

He held up the half-eaten bag of Doritos and asked, 

“Are these fresh?” quite evenly.  

Wade nodded immediately and then he reached into his pocket for his phone, 

“Yeah, but if you’re hungry, Pet-” he paused when Peter ate a chip, crunching on it loudly, chewing it slowly while looking into the bag, “uh, if you’re hungry I can order some-” 

“You don’t taste like Poppin’ Jalapeno.” he said out of nowhere, voice a little tenser. And...and it kind of felt like an accusation. Wade could only blink at first, as he processed what Peter had said. He knew he probably tasted like toothpaste, since he’d brushed his teeth just after he’d showered earlier and he hadn’t eaten anything yet. But why did Peter sound like...he sounded like he knew someone else had been there. Eating those chips.  

Wade’s eyes narrowed under the cheap mask as he tried to figure out what the fuck... 

Maybe, maybe somehow Peter did know that someone had been there? That Dom had been there? Maybe he was smelling Dom’s perfume? Because Wade had been able to smell it before, it was a nice smell, it lingered a bit. But why-wait, was Peter getting the wrong idea?! Maybe he’d seen her leave, although, how? But maybe, shit, shit , had Peter kissed him to check something? Did he think-  

Wade blinked several times under the mask as he watched Peter drop the chip bag back onto the table. He honestly didn’t even know how Peter could think such a thing! Peter had seen his skin, he’d even told Peter it’d been years since he’d been with anyone .  

But okay, fuck it, he could understand that way of thinking, because Wade knew how insecurity worked. He was riddled with it. It wasn’t unusual to not think rationally when you liked someone –and wow, Peter liked him enough to be insecure over him, what the fuck?? But it was just Dom , which, no, just no. Obviously she was super hot, duh, he had eyes. And maybe there’d been a few times where he’d jokingly flirted with her before the blip, and she’d sometimes jokingly, sometimes not so jokingly, shot him down. But when it all came down to it, their relationship was very, totally platonic. He’d never actually even seriously thought of her that way.  

But of course, Peter had no idea about any of that, he had no idea who Dom even was! So, if he’d seen her, some fucking how, leaving the apartment and he was just making assumptions, then fuck! Wade watched Peter sigh as he looked over the rest of the shit on the table idly, and he realized as he looked at Peter’s face, that the worst part was how the younger super didn’t look pissed off about whatever he was thinking, he just looked sad!  

Wade had to clear things up, asap.  

So he pushed off from the wall and took a few steps toward Peter as he talked, 

“Yeah, I wasn’t eating those. Dom was, uh, Domino, she was here.” Peter looked at him then, eyebrows raised. But before he could ask anything, Wade explained, “She’s a mutant, an X-pers-, uh, she's part of the X-Men. Remember I said I’d ask someone I know about that blue energy guy you had a fight with?” he’d moved close enough that he clearly saw a flash of guilt pass over Peter’s face as he’d explained, as if he were feeling bad about something.  

Maybe he felt bad about thinking Wade was up to something? Shit, it was so weird that this was even happening. All Wade wanted was to not fuck up with Peter, but he was somehow fucking up without even meaning to! Which, on top of all of his other fuck ups, he was fighting a losing fucking battle!  

“Uh, that’s...thanks,” Peter said, his voice less tense, “I mean, I appreciate that.” and the cold, intimidating sort of confidence in his tone and demeanor from before was completely gone.  

Wade was so lost, he just shrugged, 

“Don’t thank me, I didn’t even ask her about it yet.” he admitted. Peter frowned now, looking confused all over again and Wade decided to try to explain in as few words as possible, while still being clear, “You said you were coming over, so I told her to leave. Priorities, baby.” he gestured at Peter, and he thought that summed it up quite well. He even managed a smile too, feeling hopeful that Peter was no longer misunderstanding anything. 

 Peter just nodded, and it was a slow nod, like he wasn’t sure about something, like he wasn’t reassured. 

“Okay, well, it’d be great if she can help because he is a mutant.” he shifted on his feet, “The blood sample didn’t get any hits on identity, but his DNA is definitely mutant.” he explained.  

Wade nodded, 

“I will definitely ask her. I intended to,” he gestured to the coffee table for no reason, “but I needed a shower when I got back home, and then I started texting you and then you said you were coming over.”  

Peter had been looking at him, but now he was staring , there was a difference. And it made Wade feel the need to say more words, especially after mentioning showering while Dom had been there, “I was in disgusting condition from the job, almost 24 hours in my suit, it was fucking gross.” Peter just kept staring, so he just kept talking, “And it’s not easy with Dom, between me and Dom, I mean, what I mean is, I messed up pretty bad the last few times we saw each other, I acted like an asshole to her. And I was surprised she was even willing to talk to me.” he paused, wondering if that somehow sounded dubious too, without more context. Peter was still staring though, so maybe it still sounded dodgy, so Wade just said more words, “She’s one of the few real friends I have, or, uh, had, I guess. Maybe she’s willing to be friends again, I don’t know yet. It’s all pie in the sky, you know.” he laughed awkwardly, hoping that clarified the friend thing, just in case Peter was still worried about Dom having been there for some non-platonic reason. 

So weird.   

Weird, but also so far off the mark. 

Turns out Peter wasn’t thinking about that at all, because he asked, 

“Did you have that stupid mask on your face when she was here?” 

And wow, that question...well, fuck. It seemed Peter’s mind was on something else entirely. It wasn’t about thinking he was fooling around with someone, which made sense because he was fucking hideous, so why would Peter worry about that? No, it was about Peter figuring out that Wade was very specifically hiding his face from him. Because Wade was very specifically hiding his face from him. 

And it seemed Peter had just confirmed it. 

Fuck.  

“You didn’t, did you?” Peter followed up when Wade didn’t answer. And what the fuck could he say? He couldn’t fucking lie to Peter’s face about it. So he admitted it, 

“No, I didn’t.” 

Peter continued to stare at him, his expression becoming annoyed, but his voice was tense and sad when he asked, 

“So, she gets to see you without a mask?” he clenched his jaw after he spoke. 

Wade blinked patiently under the ‘stupid mask’, but he could feel his uneasiness was starting to turn into defensiveness. He didn't want to get angry, but he just wished Peter could get it. That he could understand how scary and shitty and miserable it was to want to be with someone, so, so badly, but to be constantly worried that the moment they saw the full extent of what was wrong with him, they’d leave him. Reject him. Be grossed out by him.   

Peter had said he was okay with his skin, but Peter didn’t know about his skin , not really. Maybe he’d noticed that it was always changing in small ways, and yeah, it could be like that for months and months. As it was, it hadn’t been bad in a long, long time. But it was unpredictable, and it could change so rapidly. And even though it only usually lasted for a few days at a time, a week at most, on those occasions, when the cancer became really aggressive, his skin would get way, way fucking worse. He had fucking cancer for fucks sake. It was a disease that was trying to kill him.   He was perpetually diseased. 

Fuck, even Vanessa...the first time she’d seen it, seen how bad it could get, she’d had a hard time dealing with what it did to his skin. But she’d been so special, she’d been the one, the one who’d loved him through it all...  

And Wade, he wanted to believe that Peter would be okay with it, he wanted to believe that Peter was special like that too, because he was so perfect and accepting and genuine and he didn't seem to mind the normal grossness, which was already so amazing. But Wade had no way of knowing how he’d handle it in the future. And the mask?  

Well, it was only barrier he had left to keep him from being totally exposed.  

At least Vanessa had seen him long before he’d become so hideous. 

Now, all he was, was a disgusting monster lookalike.  

He’d even been called a monster before, more than once.  

Shit. After Vanessa, the rejections he’d faced those few times he’d dared to try...  

That shit could really break the spirit. Wreck the self-esteem. And Wade had made peace with it in his own way when he’d resigned himself to being alone. And to being violent in his response to any insults. Being violent in response to everything. But now that all had to change, because he wanted to be with Peter and the excess violence had to stop, but it was so fucking hard to believe it wouldn’t end badly between them. Even in the moments when everything felt so good and so right, it still seemed inevitable that it would fall apart. And his fear of that just made it hard for him to fully accept, to give in to.  

And when the mask came off, that was it. Putting it back on afterward would mean nothing.  

His broken self-esteem from all the rejections and the stares and the insults, his own self-loathing, self-disgust, his every fear, insecurity and all his misery, it would all be reflected in his eyes. And only Peter would see it, because Peter was the one Wade was afraid of being rejected by. He wouldn’t be able to hide it from him. That he was broken in too many ways. He wished it wasn’t like that, he wished he could just get over it, or that he could pretend like he didn’t hate the world and hate himself, but no amount of bullets to the head or resets he’d tried had ever made that particular misery go away.  

And the fact that Peter was Spider-Man, a fantasy, a fucking dream turned reality, it made Wade want to be brave and confident, but a rejection from Spider-Man  was truly fucking terri-  

“-ade? Wade?!” Peter was saying his name loudly, snapping him out of his internal spiral, but it was too late, Wade felt like he was already slipping over that edge. 

He blinked a few times and just shook his head, voice low and gruff when he spoke, 

“It’s different.” his chest was hurting. 

Peter stepped forward, closer, his expression tense and upset and sad, 

“You’re right, it is different, Wade, because I’m not just a friend. We’ve, we’re, I let you- I mean, we’ve had s-sex and I haven’t even seen you-" 

“That’s exactly why it’s different.” Wade cut him off that time. Every stutter from Peter was hurting him more than he was already hurting on his own. 

Peter wasn’t supposed to have this shit in his life, Wade should not have been in his life, fucking it up with complicated sex and drama and dishonest-  

“What?” Peter sounded baffled, “How is that exactly why I haven’t seen your face yet?” he asked, his voice barely raised and just a little strained. But while Wade had taken a step back, he was on edge, and he felt defensive and upset, so he snapped, 

“It’s because I’m not fucking her that it doesn’t matter what I look like! I don’t give a shit what she thinks!” his voice was too loud. Fuck. He fucking hated himself. Why was he like this? What was he doing yelling at Peter?  

Peter’s mouth had closed when he snapped, his lips now a tense line, twitching slightly as he worked his jaw a few times. And then he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, before he finally asked, 

“What about the serious relationship you had before? The one you said you continued after your mutation?” he raised his hands up slightly before letting his arms drop back to his sides, his mask clenched tightly in his fist, “She obviously saw your face and you were f-fuh, uh, you were sleeping with her.”  

Wade couldn’t even appreciate how cute it was that Peter couldn’t follow through on cussing, because all he wanted to do was make the noise building in his head and the pressure building in his chest stop . He didn’t want to fight with Peter, he didn’t want to lose Peter, but how could he hang on to him if it was inevitable that it would end badly one way or another? 

“That was also different.” he said in a calmer voice, half a whisper, holding his body stiff and still. 

“ How ?” Peter sort of yelled, but his voice wasn’t really made for yelling. 

Wade shook his head, answered as honestly as he could, 

“Because she knew me from before I was turned into this.” he pointed to the lower half of his face, then held up his bare ugly hands. And then he looked at his ugly hands and the bitterness welling up in him made him say, “So at least when I was fucking her, she had the option of picturing what I used to look like.” and it was so unnecessary to say that.  

And it wasn’t even true, Vanessa hadn’t given a shit what he looked like in the end. Even after joking about needing a few drinks and an adjustment period to be okay with him, she’d never hesitated to touch him, to let him touch her. Even when he’d had gross cancer sores all over his body during the really bad times, she’d still touched him, still kissed him...  

Peter’s face did a weird thing then, there was another flash of guilt, and then uncertainty and then he was shaking his head and blinking, his pretty mouth unintentionally pouting, 

“So, when do I get to see your face, Wade?” he asked, his tone flatter. And that hurt Wade too, because Peter now sounded like he was losing interest in trying to fight about it, like he was on the verge of hitting fuck it and just giving up. And Wade was so upset and so scared and confused and his chest was hurting and Peter went on to ask, “Am I going to have to let you sleep with me first before I get to see your face?” Fuck. Fuck . Wade felt like he couldn’t breathe, “Is that it? You’re so sure I’m going to reject you, right?” he went on, sadness gone, anger building, his voice getting tighter, eyes getting a little wet. “Do you figure that if you’ve at least already f-fucked me, then you haven’t totally lost out.” his voice broke right at the end, and he sniffed abruptly, swallowing right after.  

But he didn’t break eye contact, despite the mask Wade had on. He was so angry and sad and beautiful. 

And Wade’s chest and throat were on fire. Tears brimming in his eyes, just as they were in Peter’s.  

And he felt so furious, but not at Peter, only at himself, because he was never supposed to be the fucking reason Peter’s face looked like that, or that his voice sounded like that, like he was hurting, and yet he knew he was the exact and only reason it was happening. Wade still felt so confused and scared too, and in his confusion and his desperation he didn’t know what was the best thing to do or say, but he also still wanted to try to fix it, even though he felt like it was doomed, he wanted to hang on a little longer. 

He was holding himself so still on the outside but inside he was a complete mess.  

It was chaos in his head.  

Reacting to his mess of feelings, he abruptly walked right up to Peter, close enough to look right into his lovely face, looking down at him through the cheap mask. And Peter didn’t move away, even as he sniffed and blinked a few tears out of his eyes, he didn’t budge. He just looked right up into Wade’s half masked face, obstinate and hurting and angry, and unafraid , because he’d said his senses didn’t see Wade as a threat, he knew Wade would never even attempt to hurt him. He trusted Wade. And physically that was true. But he had hurt Peter, emotionally...and now he wanted to try to make it stop.  

“Just say it.” he rasped out, watched Peter’s eyelashes flutter as his breath rushed over his face, “Just fucking tell me to take it off, and I will.” maybe that would fix it, just for the moment? Like a band aid. 

“You will?” Peter asked quietly, voice unreadable, a bit breathy. Wade nodded, 

“Just say it, and I will.” and he would, he would have done it even the last time he’d seen Peter, because he’d already unconsciously forfeited the ability to say no to him.  

“You will,” Peter repeated, and then he shook his head, “but you don’t want to.” he hadn’t blinked in a while, and Wade just swallowed tensely, once again stuck, because it seemed Peter wasn’t interested in his unwilling willingness, “You don’t actually want to show me your face.” 

He didn’t, for reasons he didn’t think he could coherently explain, but he wanted to be able to! 

“Peter, I do-” 

“Not right now you don’t.” Peter cut him off again, and Wade just closed his mouth and clenched his jaw, because Peter wasn’t wrong. Then, more detached, calmer, he asked, “So, when?”  

Wade was at a total loss of how to answer that. He needed to use a different band aid! He needed to try to hold it together somehow, so in a much meeker tone he said, 

“Peter, we don’t have to have sex, you know. I’m okay with that, we can wai-” 

“ How long , Wade?” 

“Is sex really that importan-” 

“It’s not about the damn sex!!” and Peter did yell then, right in his face, the younger super’s voice taking on that rare authoritative tone of his, and Wade went silent and still. “I want to know when will you decide to show me your face, Wade?” he wasn’t yelling anymore, but his voice was still in that tone. This...this was angry Peter Parker, Wade realized it as he stared into the wet and intense brown eyes of the young man behind Spider-Man, “How long do I have to wait just to see your face? When will you trust me enough, when will you believe me enough, to show me?” he stepped forward, brow scrunching up sadly as he bumped into Wade intentionally.   

Wade let himself be pushed back a step.  

He was breathing heavily by that point, emotions spiraling, but his anger had already totally faded away. He wasn’t about to fight with Peter, he didn’t want to, not verbally and definitely not physically, and he had no idea what to say to fix it. He had no clear answer to give. So, he backed down, taking another step back, and then another, moving away from Peter, who remained where he was. And as he put distance between them, he watched as Peter’s eyes got wetter and his frown got deeper. 

Wade just shook his head once he was several steps away, and he said, 

“I dunno’.” almost too softly, voice very quiet. And it was the closest thing to the truth he could think to say, when he added, “You’re probably going to have to force me into it.” it was fucking pathetic, but it was true. He’d been forced into revealing himself to Vanessa too, that hadn’t been his choice, without Francis, he may never have done it himself. “I’m too much of a coward, Peter. I’m fucking weak, I probably won’t ever take my mask off completely, if you don’t force me.” and he hated it, but that’s how it felt.  

That last sentence hung in the air between them for a few silent seconds, then Peter sniffed again and blinked a few more tears out of his eyes...and he nodded, then contradicted his nod by saying, 

“I won’t force you, Wade. That wouldn’t be right.” and there was an empty finality to his voice that made Wade’s stomach feel hollowed out. Peter sniffed again, finally breaking eye contact to look down at his mask as he started to turn it in his hands, “If I force you, I won’t feel right, and,” he sniffed again, shifted the mask to open then seam, “and if you don’t do it yourself, it’ll mean you don’t believe me about how I feel, that you don’t trust me.” the mask was the right way in his hands, the right way to put it on. Wade just stared at it as Peter added, "And I,” he sighed, “I won’t feel okay about that either. Because I trust y-you...” his voice broke and he cut off. Then, after a moment, Peter looked right at him again and the emotional vulnerability in his eyes closed Wade’s throat, “I trust you, I still trust you. Maybe I’m stupid for it, but I do. But, s-so, if you can’t trust me, then, then what’s the point.” he sniffed again, shook his head, “There’s no point.” he added, voice shaking.  

He averted his gaze again, and the shift of light caught the tear streaks on his pretty face, and Wade imagined he tasted salt from his tears when he pursed his lips. Then Peter started to step around the sofa to go toward the window and Wade couldn't speak, he could only watch, his chest aching. The inside of his cheap Spider-Man mask was so wet, because he was crying, every blink releasing tears and his throat felt like it was closed, his breaths just quiet wheezes. He didn’t move, he just stood there as things fell apart. Doomed to end badly, one way or another. He’d known it.  

Peter was breaking up with him.  

That’s exactly what was happening.   

But then it got even worse, because he stopped by the window and without looking back, he said, 

“I do know what you used to look like, Wade. I’ve actually known for a while already.” and Wade’s hollowed out stomach turned over to complete nausea instantly at hearing that, everything around him becoming a little grey and fuzzy. “But I don’t care about that. I never pictured what you used to look like during the times we were together. I haven’t e-even one time. All I’ve been wanting to know,” he paused to sniff, “is what you look l-like, now. I’ve wanted to see the you I know n-now.” his voice was watery by the end and he was shaking his head.  

Wade felt too disconnected to react.  

And maybe Peter waited an extra few seconds for him to say something, but he still couldn’t speak, his throat was too closed and he’d slipped over the edge. So, he could only watch as Peter roughly pulled his mask on, hopped up on the window ledge, extended his hand to shoot a web, and then he was gone .

Wade continued to stand there for a few minutes after Peter left, and then only once his throat opened up enough again for him to take in a deeper, hoarser breath, did he lose his shit.  

He trashed everything around him, so violently that he hurt himself in the process, badly and many times. But of course, he healed. He always fucking healed. It was an endless cycle. In the end the only thing he could do was lock himself in his suicide room, where he shot himself right in the face of the Spider-Man mask.  

...or if we're in pain?

Chapter Text

Is every last soul just fucking me over?

Peter didn’t stay out on patrol. 

He felt too messed up after what had just happened.  

He wasn’t even sure he knew what had just happened. 

He just knew he wanted to get home. Fast.  

He was holding it in, the need to cry, and trying his best to ignore how his stomach was shaking with upset and anxiety as he swung back to his apartment hastily. Although he only landed beside his window about twenty minutes later, much longer than it should have taken by web, because despite how fast he’d been trying to swing, he hadn’t been very steady and he’d had to slow down and even land on a roof top or two along the way to rebalance himself.  

Presently, he dropped in through his bedroom window, less than gracefully, and only bothered to pull his mask off before he walked the few steps required to collapse face down on his bed. Then he let the first quiet sob leave his throat. It wasn’t loud and it didn’t come with a stream of tears, he’d never been that type of crier. It was more of a body tensing, stomach clenching, mostly dry cry that he had, and that’s how he was crying right then.  

Occasionally he’d hiccup out an audible sob, while he sniffed a lot and sometimes his shoulders would shake, but it was quiet in his dark room otherwise. So calm and silent around him, despite how he was hurting inside. He really was hurting a lot. And it surprised and angered him, making him grit his teeth as he pressed his face into his bed covers, because Peter didn’t think he was in love with Wade, and yet still, it hurt so bad in his chest and stomach.  

Slowly, Peter rolled to his side, drew his legs up and curled into himself.  

He remembered how it had hurt after MJ, and it felt similar right then, so...whether it was or wasn’t love, he wasn’t sure it mattered, because it still really damn hurt.  

And he had no idea how it’d turned out so messed up, why had it taken such a bad turn? He’d gone to Wade’s place feeling pretty good, but then when he’d arrived he’d seen the cheesy, knock off Spider-Man mask and he’d gotten annoyed all over again. But he’d tried to shake it off, and he’d been happy to be seeing Wade’s apartment, seeing all the stuff the older super had around gave him some more insight into who Wade was, even if the insight painted a pretty dark, violent and messy picture. And so, even though he’d been angry, he’d also felt a little like he’d made some headway, and he’d still wanted to kiss Wade. He liked kissing Wade, Wade was a great kisser, so he’d gone ahead and kissed the merc...  

Crap...  

It’d been going okay, it’d been so okay, he’d thought he was okay, even after the Doritos thing. Wade had even answered honestly about Dom without Peter needing to wheedle the info out of him, because he wasn’t really good at that sort of thing anyway, and Wade would probably have seen through it if he’d tried to fish for answers. Even without him fishing obviously, Wade had still seemed to catch on to some form of his insecurity, because he’d made extra sure to be clear that Dom was just a friend.  

But that hadn’t been the issue to begin with! And once it had sunken in that Wade hadn’t been wearing his mask around his friend , Peter had been unable to ignore his irritation any longer. There was something too grating in the fact that Wade was so comfortable around Dom, that he really trusted her enough to not have that stupid Spider-Man mask on around her. But then Wade had said it wasn’t about trust...and then he’d raised his voice and it had somehow escalated into an argument.  

And Wade’s tone had been all wrong, he’d been upset and defensive, and Peter had also been upset and frustrated and he’d raised his voice too, and the whole damn thing had just gotten away from him! 

“Shfmt!” he cursed into the rumpled up bed cover, then he sobbed again as he thumped a fist against the mattress. He just hadn’t been able to let it go! And he'd said stupid stuff that he knew wasn’t true! He knew Wade wasn’t just trying to have sex with him, but he’d said it anyway! He thumped the mattress again. 

‘Why did I say that!?’ he yelled at himself mentally. He never knew he was the type to say something just to try getting a response. It was so awful to be like that, he was so mad at himself. Why did his feelings for Wade make him act so dumb!?  

He’d said so much dumb stuff...except, well, what had been true was that he’d never, ever force Wade to take his mask off. And it was also true that he still trusted Wade. But what did it matter!? Because now they were broken up and it was all because Peter couldn’t just let the mask thing go!  

But despite regretting the argument and wishing he could take back some things he’d said, Peter knew he wasn’t wrong for wanting Wade to show him his face, and he knew he wasn’t wrong about the lack of trust thing not being okay. Why didn’t Wade trust him? What had he done to make Wade think he was so shallow, or that he was just going to reject him? What else was Peter supposed to do to convince him differently? He had to draw the line somewhere!  

He sniffed again, the tear damp bed cover under his face feeling cold as he shifted to push himself up to sitting with his legs off the bed. He didn’t know how long had passed, maybe a half hour? But his eyes felt a bit puffy and his nose was stuffy. He hated crying. He hated feeling so crappy. And he hated everything that had happened that evening with Wade, but he didn’t feel like it had been the totally wrong decision, at least not to confront it.  

‘I had to bring it up, ” he knew that much, ‘I just...’ he blinked hard, pursed his lips, wondered if he and Wade were actually broken up, because he hadn’t actually told Wade it was over. And Wade hadn’t said anything. Not a damn word. He’d just stood there, eerily still, and because of that stupid damn mask, his face had been a complete blank! Peter’s face scrunched up again and he clenched his teeth, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Wade was so confusing, why hadn’t he even said anything? Why hadn’t the merc tried to stop him from leaving?  

For a long minute or so, he sat swallowing around the lump stuck in his throat and breathing out the occasional sob and sniff. And then he laughed abruptly, sorely and mirthlessly, remembering how Wade had told him time and time again, from the start, that it would be messed up trying to be with him. He’d said he was unreliable. He’d said he was an asshole. He’d told Peter everything that would happen would be his fault, but Peter’s mistake. He'd been honest, he’d been upfront and straightforward. 

Wade had tried to push him away, right from the start...  

Peter sobbed again, when he angrily thought that maybe he should have let himself be pushed away. Because now he was hurting, and he had new regrets to add to old ones, and he didn’t know how long the ache of loneliness and loss would last for, that time around. And he was full of uncertainty on top of that, not even sure if he wanted it to be over.  

But what was the alternative? If Wade needed to be forced to remove his mask there was no alternative! It was the same problem over and over again. He swallowed a sob that time, managing to keep it in and he drew his legs up, hooking the heels of his booted feet on the base of the bed as he leaned his arms on his knees and cradled his head there.   

He cried softly for a while longer, but as usual, no one would ever know.

For the week that followed, Peter mostly stayed at home.  

Aside from going to campus for some lectures, missing one or two others, going out just once to buy some groceries, and doing his usual patrol every night, he just stayed at home and watched TV, or slept, did some classwork, or sometimes he tinkered with his suits. He had no interest in doing anything else, which wasn’t so different than how it’d been after things had ended with MJ. 

The real low, the crying low at least, had only lasted for about a day and a half.  

As he recalled, he’d definitely done more crying and more moping, and for much longer, after MJ. But he supposed that made sense, they’d known each other longer, had been together longer and yeah, he’d definitely been in love with MJ. Whereas with Wade, Peter supposed he’d just been falling fast.  

Maybe it was better that it ended before he had fallen for Wade completely. He could actually imagine May telling him that to comfort him, if she knew the real circumstances and what had happened, or if she knew at all. But he hadn’t told her anything, he’d just been answering every text from her with his usual, generic ‘I’m fine’ responses. She’d accepted those texts too, she was a champion like that.  

Aside from May, he hadn’t had much contact with anyone else all week. Ned had texted him though, as he sometimes randomly did, and Peter had responded to him. But he hadn’t mentioned anything personal about dating or breaking up. He and Ned weren’t close like they’d use to be anyway, and they lived so far apart, Peter didn’t think it made sense to talk about relationship stuff with him. Also, Ned had his own life, his own girlfriend and new friends, and everything else going for him at M.I.T. Peter didn’t want to bring him down with his drama, especially while trying to explain that his drama involved dating a man.  

And also, he’d have to avoid explaining how Wade was a merc. And also, that his drama was largely self-inflicted, because that would just be embarrassing and would make him sound dumb and naive. He already had enough people who held that opinion of him. But maybe he was kind of dumb and naïve, because Wade had warned him, and warned him. Wade had been really honest. Peter was the one who’d thought he could handle it. He’d overestimated himself.   

He often did that.

He was presently lying on his back on his sofa watching, but also not really watching, some new inaccurate documentary on theories of the universe, based after Thanos and the blip. It was droning on in the background while he scrolled through his social media, distractedly, idly, not really interested, just passing the Friday afternoon before he went out for patrol that night.  

He’d been annoyed with himself all week about social media too, because he just kept checking weaselneverwins69’s Instagram. He was not even sure what he was looking for on there, but it didn’t stop him from doing it again and again. And again right then.  

Nothing had changed in terms of posts, there was absolutely nothing new, but Peter scrolled through the posts anyway. It was all the same, and he wasn’t expecting it to be any different than it had been that morning when he’d looked. He always did the same thing anyway though, scrolling down and down, looking for that picture of Wade and that woman, even though he had it in his phone. It was a sad little habit he’d developed in the last week...  

A sad little habit that was broken right then. when he reached the point in the feed where the picture was supposed to be...and found it gone! Deleted! Or maybe archived. Either way, it was no longer visible. Peter frowned. He’d just seen the picture there that morning. So, did that mean Wade had figured out where he’d seen the picture and he’d made Weasel remove it?  

Peter blinked and lowered the phone from eye level. He recalled very clearly how Wade had said nothing when he’d mentioned that he’d seen a picture of him from before. Why hadn’t Wade said anything? Had he known about the picture and he’d been shocked Peter had found it? Or maybe he hadn’t thought Peter would know it was him? Or...or had he been angry? Maybe he’d had no idea that that picture of him was up on the internet and Peter had brought it to his attention?  

He sighed, thinking maybe he shouldn’t even have mentioned that he’d seen that picture. Wade was so insecure about his appearance; it was possible he hated the idea of former pictures of himself. Peter hoped he hadn’t caused Weasel any trouble if that was the case.  

He thought then about the dimness of Wade’s apartment despite the overhead lights having looked intact. Thinking of Wade preferring to live in dim lighting, even when he was alone, made Peter’s chest ache, made him think again about how Wade had said he’d have to be forced, because he was just unable to think his complete appearance could be acceptable to Peter.  

Peter sighed again and rolled onto his side to stare at the TV blankly, phone balanced in his outstretched, limp hand. He’d been having second and third thoughts all week, wondering if he should text Wade or call him, or now that he knew where Wade lived, just go and see him. Maybe they could talk about it more calmly, nicely, clearly. Of course, Wade hadn’t texted him since that night, not a thing, not even some link to any old song.  

Peter scrunched his eyes shut and turned his head to press his face into the cushion.  Even though he’d stopped crying, there was still a nagging ache in his stomach and chest whenever he thought about it being over. He had no idea what to do, every time he thought about contacting Wade, he thought about how the problem was still going to be the same.  

It wasn’t about Wade being irresponsible, reckless, unreliable, violent or any of that other stuff, Peter had found that he was incredibly tolerant of all that because of how upside down his own life was as a superhero. He could put up with a lot. None of those things really bothered him, they just felt like fixable or avoidable bumps in the road. His main problem was Wade not trusting him. Relationships couldn’t survive without trust, as inexperienced as he was, even he knew that.  

No matter how he looked at it though, he was really stuck on how to work it out, if it was even possible to work it out. He lied there for a while longer, thoughts wandering, and then for the tenth time that day, he found himself thinking of what Wade might be doing. 

“He probably just took some job.” he muttered bitterly, thinking Wade was likely off somewhere taking out his anger or whatever on a bunch of criminals. He then wondered if Wade was wondering about him like he was wondering about Wade. Of course, that just made him feel frustrated, “Argh!” he sat up abruptly, then got to his feet, “Screw this, I’m going on patrol.” and it was way earlier than he usually would for a Friday, it wasn’t even 3 PM, but he was feeling too restless.  

Maybe he also needed to go out and work off some of his anger.

He wore his new self-made suit that afternoon.  

He hadn’t worn it in a while because it had needed some more work, but at that point, despite the fact that he knew there were still some upgrades he needed or wanted to do, it was still very usable and had been adjusted enough to manage all the most urgent things he might need. Also, he felt good in it. He liked the design he’d cut and sewed in the material, the colours too, it had more blue and red, brighter shades as well, and it was a little reflective. He also liked the sharper spider logo he’d designed. It also fit him well. It was just a little tighter on him than his Stark suits, but that was the unintentional result of him not thinking to leave any room for weight or muscle change, and also just being too precise in his body measurements, but it actually looked really good.  

He was making a few other copies of the suit though, just in case the tightness became an issue.   

Also, he needed extra in case a suit got damaged. The biggest drawback was that the new suit didn’t have the same foundational durability as the Stark suits, because the material that the fabricator had developed hadn’t been standard spandex. Everything the fabricator had made incorporated nanotech and other advanced materials. He couldn’t easily replicate what the fabricator could do, not without building a similar machine to do it and having access to what Tony had, and he didn’t have the kind of money, or even the time, to attempt such a feat. So Peter had developed a basic work around which had made the suit more protective in vital areas, but obviously, it was nothing like the Stark suits. For the rest, he just intended to rely on his spider sense and instincts.  

Ultimately, the suit was comfortable, streamline and resistant to most damage where it counted. He hoped to improve it further, he wanted to perfect it, with his own skill and hard work, until it was the best. And it’d be entirely his ow- 

“Sorry!” he yelled to a flock of pigeons who were startled by him. Their sudden harried flapping of wings and feathers flying everywhere had sort of startled him in turn as he’d come around a corner really fast, swinging over a lower building rooftop they’d been gathered on.   

He’d only been out for about two hours so far, but he already felt better. It really was a good idea to stay busy. So far there’d been no major or even minor trouble. He’d only helped a lady whose cat had gotten itself stuck on the ridge of a building beneath an open window of an eight-floor high drop. Peter had no idea how cats got themselves into such situations. The cat of course, had seemed rather entitled about being saved. But Peter still felt happy to have saved it, and the woman’s relief and gratitude were nice too, except when she offered to pay him. It was always awkward when civilians wanted to pay him. Didn't anyone just help someone out for free without expecting a reward?   

Ah, no. Not really. He couldn't help thinking about Wade again, who quite literally expected to get paid for the work he did, although the merc did do some pro boner work. Peter snorted, half amused, half disappointed in himself for not being able to keep Wade out of his head.   

He felt a swell of emotion crawl up his throat as he swung over the busy traffic of cars and people, and he decided to land on a light post to take a break and refocus. He crouched on it in his usual spider pose, looking down at the busy sidewalk as he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the annoying tightness. Some people noticed him there, a few waved, and he waved back. Others took out their phones to take pictures, but most just kept on walking. He’d only intended to perch there for a moment though, just until he’d shaken off the bout of sadness he was feeling.  

But then he felt his spider sense start to hum.   

It was very, very low though, and it made him frown as he glanced around. The hum was so vague and slight, it gave no indication of where the trouble was, and nothing around him looked amiss at all. He tensed and stood up though, when he considered the blue energy guy who previously had literally triggered his spider sense from being no threat, to a very dangerous threat, within a second.  

So he stood ready, he stood alert, but there was nothing, nothing happened. But the hum remained.  

“What the...?” he mumbled to himself, and feeling on edge, Peter shot out a web and slowly started to swing around the general area he was in, which was pretty far south in Queens. He went through a few streets, even landed to walk along a few buildings, but there was nothing and the hum continued. It was unusual though, it was as if something was wrong, but no one was in immediate danger. It was almost as if his senses weren’t even sure if there was trouble.   

“So weird.” he said to himself, the hum not going away. There was nothing else major going on anywhere either, or it would have drowned out the weird consistent hum. So Peter lingered, and he swung around, until he eventually ventured a little further out, further south. Still no change to the hum.

It was just starting to get darker when finally, the hum became marginally more urgent, and two seconds later he heard a gunshot. Peter webbed quickly toward where the sound had come from. It was further south than he’d been lingering, and as he went in that direction the dull hum became more pronounced. And then there was another gunshot, and another! Peter honed in on the location quickly. 

He swung fast at first, but the further south he went he was exiting the city proper, so he had to switch to running and jumping on roofs, walls, electricity poles and sidewalks, since he’d run out of taller buildings.   

It turned out his destination was a house in Springfield Gardens. A relatively nice house too from what he could see, and just as he jumped from one roof to another, landing on the roof of the house directly across the street from his destination, someone came running out of the house’s front door.  

Frantically, and clearly injured, so as a result, not running very fast.  

It was a man. He was thin and fairly dark skinned and his black hair was a mess, half covering his face, but Peter could tell his expression was panicked. He also had a gun held inexpertly in one hand, just a normal handgun, but he wasn’t pointing it anywhere as he started running down the street, and he didn’t look back either. He ran awkwardly because he was injured, but his run lacked the trait of someone running away from a crime they’d just committed. He seemed desperate to get away though, so he must have been up to something.  

It took Peter two jumps to cross the street and one web to catch him.  

He’d landed on the electricity pole just ahead of the direction the guy had been running in, and he’d used one of the few web settings he’d decided to keep from his Stark suits, his trapping web nets, which had some oomph behind them and cast with an open frame. So, when the web had hit the guy, it’d knocked him down and stuck him to the ground.  

Presently he was squirming and struggling weakly on the ground when Peter said, 

“Hey, didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to run with guns.” as he webbed the gun away, before shooting another web to stick the firearm high up on the pole, out of reach of anyone on the ground. “Also, it’s totally illegal to shoot people, and to run away from a crime scene.” he added to the guy, who was trying to roll himself over onto his back under the net. Peter’s tone was not very pleasant, because he was pretty sure he was going to find dead bodies in that house, and that always put him in a bad mood.  

The guy finally flopped himself over, legs kicking and sneakers scraping the concrete sidewalk as he continued to struggle, 

“No, please! Let me go, they’ll catch me! I have to run!” 

He had been saying the same things all along and Peter had ignored him because clearly no one was chasing him. But now, on his back, his tone was more high-pitched, more desperate and louder. Also, his accent was Indian, and it was familiar...he sounded familiar. Peter frowned and squinted his eyes, his mask lenses narrowing and the imaging zooming in a bit to take in the almost unrecognizable state of- 

“Dopinder?!” Peter exclaimed, shocked, quickly jumping down to the sidewalk. 

“-ey’ll get me-uh?” the man stopped crying out to be let go when he heard his name, and his wide panicked eye focused on Peter standing over him. 

“M-mister S-spider-Man?” he breathed out, voice trembling and scratchy. Peter was stunned, looking up close and properly at the state of the cab driver. Dopinder was...he was pretty badly beaten up. One of his eyes was completely swollen shut, and there was blood on his face from a large angry gash in his forehead. There was more blood running down from his left ear and he had many bruises and other minor injuries on his face. It also looked like his right leg was bleeding from just above his knee, and he was really scruffy and dirty, like maybe he’d been held captive or something.  

“Dopinder, what happened to you, man?” Peter asked as he crouched down and easily ripped off the webs binding the cab driver. He was surprised and confused to find Dopinder in this situation. Sure, the guy was associated with Wade, who was a mercenary, which meant he might be close to some generally dangerous stuff, but Dopinder wasn’t a bad guy actively involved in crime!  

Or at least Peter didn’t thin- 

“Mister Spider-Man, they’ll catch me, I- they, I have to-ah!” the cab driver’s gaze shifted to look behind him, and his one good eye widened in renewed panic as he scrambled to get away. But Peter’s senses had already warned him before the two guys now running out of the house had even exited, so he didn’t even need to look as he shot off two web nets. He heard the two men shout out when the webs hit them, knocking them over and trapping them to the ground quite far away. Dopinder was still wide eyed, but he’d stopped scrambling and seemed relieved. He didn’t relax for long though, instead he moved to sit up, and Peter helped him because he was struggling.  

“Tell me what happened, did you kill anyone back there?” he asked more specifically as he helped Dopinder all the way getting to his unsteady feet. He was concerned about what had happened to Dopinder, but also about what had happened in the house, because of the questionable amount of blood, some dry and some wet, clinging to Dopinder’s skin, hair and his dirty, rumpled clothes. His wrists were bleeding and chafed though, which meant he’d likely been cuffed or restrained, and he was shaking like a leaf as he stared right into Peter’s masked eyes, 

“I had to! I had to get away, it’s been w-weeks, they’ve been keeping me here for weeks.” his voice sounded faint and his smile was relieved but miserable, “I’m so glad you found me...I, I...” and then his eyes were rolling and Peter had to catch him and lower him to the ground to spare him the painful fall as he passed out. Exhaustion and relief at being found had no doubt caught up to him all at once.  

Peter was crouching and considering what to do about Dopinder being passed out when his spider sense picked up more incoming trouble, in the distance he could hear cars coming up fast in their direction and the two guys webbed on the ground were yelling at each other in another language. He had no idea yet what was going on, but he had to get Dopinder out of there before he checked it out. Couldn’t have an unconscious Dopinder around any potential danger.  

So, he lifted Dopinder easily into a fireman’s carry and he started running, moving into a jump, first over a fence, then onto the wall of a house, using his one free arm to climb up to the roof, where he took off running again and continued to leap and run away from the scene, house by house. 

He stayed in the general area, going only as far as a small local shopping market on a main road that ran through Springfield Gardens, the roof of which was good for settling an unconscious person down on. It had a decent parapet wall around the roof, and also plenty of structures to hide Dopinder’s unconscious form behind, just in case.  

Once he’d propped and hidden Dopinder carefully behind a solid ventilation structure, Peter checked his pulse to find that it wasn’t too slow, and also, he checked that the man wasn’t bleeding out from anywhere external, even the wound on his leg seemed to be barely bleeding anymore. The A.I in his new suit was still not as comprehensive as his Stark suits so he couldn’t do a scan for vitals or anything. But as he did a quick check, he didn’t find any wounds on Dopinder that would usually lead to internal bleeding, so Peter figured he’d be fine for a while, just until he came back for him. 

“Uh, so, stay put, okay, Dopinder. I’ll be back for you.” he said pointlessly to the unconscious man, patting his shoulder before he stood up.  

 Then he turned immediately and started running and leaping, right back the way he’d come.

When he got back to the neighbourhood about ten minutes later, he crouched on the house directly opposite the one Dopinder had come out of, and Peter tilted his head thoughtfully as he took in the sight of the three expensive, black, and very conspicuous, SUVs now parked outside the house. Also, the two guys who’d been webbed in the yard and on the sidewalk were gone, but the webs were still stuck to the ground and had clearly been cut open down the middle to free them.  

The whole thing seemed weird to him though, 

“Hmmm. Bad guy organizations don’t usually keep kidnappees in suburban houses,” he mused quietly to himself, “especially organizations who can afford to drive Rolls Royce.” he frowned, mask lenses shifting. Usually, the bad guys who traveled in numbers used the standard Mercedes, BMW or sometimes Range Rover SUVs, so the brand of car and the house in a residential area both came across extra suspicious. Were these criminals confused? Or maybe foreigners? Peter wasn’t sure what foreign criminals usually drove, or where they kept their hostages...  

Ah well.  

In three jumps, once again using the electricity poles running along the streets, Peter landed as silently as he could on the target house’s front wall, avoiding the roof for the sake of making fewer alerting noises. From there he ducked close against the wall and crawled his way around the house, around the side and toward the backyard, looking around to see if there were any goons with guns hanging around outside. He found none after a parameter search, which, also weird, but he did pick up on voices talking from inside one of the downstairs, back facing windows of the double story property.  

It was fully dark by then, and not having to worry about being spotted made it easy to crawl down to the window, where the voices were coming through the clearest. He positioned himself so he could sit against the wall above the window on his haunches, feet stuck and holding up his weight. 

“-believe this, bezjēdzīgi tārpi!” a woman said harshly. 

“Ko mēs varam darīt? Mēs neesam super. Viņš ir zirnekļcilvēks.” a man. 

“Tieši tā.” a different man.  

Peter cocked an eyebrow under his suit at the unknown language, and he raised his right forearm, wanting to use his settings panel to get his A.I to activate a translator, but then he remembered he wasn’t wearing one of his Stark suits and he silently groaned and mimicked smacking his forehead. He hadn’t yet installed the translation system! He sighed quietly and was considering just using an internet translator, but then they started talking in English!  

“Why would Spider-Man be in this area, doesn’t he usually stay in the city?” it was the woman with the accent talking. “Are you sure it was the Spider-Man and not Deadpool himself? You said he was wearing a red suit?” and Peter wasn’t too surprised to hear Wade being mentioned, considering Dopinder was involved, he’d already assumed it probably had something to do with the merc. 

“Are the spider webs not an obvious giveaway?” one of the lesser accented men asked, sounding annoyed. He was possibly the second one Peter had heard before. His English was quite good. 

“Deadpool steals and collects weapons all the time!” the accented woman again, raising her voice, “Don’t you remember how he raided our rivals in Estonia a few years ago? He probably still has about thirty percent of their ammo stock! You think he would not steal from Spider-Man!?” 

“Red, blue, and shiny. Suit was shiny. Deadpool, not shiny suit. Suit like blood colour, and swords on back, always.” another, different, thicker accented man, sounded like he spoke poorer English than the others.  

So far, Peter had heard four people talk, three men and woman. He moved quietly so he was upside down on the wall and could peek in through the window, just to see if he was right. But just as he peeked in, a fifth person spoke, a man with an American accent, 

“It wasn’t Deadpool.” he sounded very sure and very disinterested in the conversation, “I saw him. He was too small to be Deadpool.” Peter’s eye twitched, “Too small and too lean and yeah, his suit was red and blue and it was pretty shiny. It was definitely Spider-Man. Seen him on TV enough to know he’s not a big guy,” another eye twitch, “and he has more than one suit. Deadpool always has the same kind of suit, and he’s always armed. This guy had no visible weapons.” he finished, and the other guy was humming in agreement.  

Peter was only partially able to see the people in the room, mostly torsos down and only three of the five. If he leaned any further down, they’d see him, so he couldn’t. From that angle, he could see one of the men was twirling a sharp, silver weapon of some kind between his fingers, his body in a relaxed, cocky stance. Peter assumed he might be the American since that was where the voice had sounded from. Peter also couldn’t help noticing he was wearing an atypical black and white tactical suit that seemed to cover him completely, not unalike Wade’s in some ways, with pouches and weapons strapped to his thighs and waist. Peter couldn’t see his head from that angle though, so he didn’t know if the man’s face was visible. But the suit was unusual enough that Peter assumed he might be a super, so he made a mental note not to underestimate him, just in case.  

“-dpool would definitely have killed these two, he wouldn’t have left like that.” the American added. 

“Yes, agreed.” the heavily accented man commented, and Peter looked at where that voice was coming from. He could see a skinny man in untidy formal clothes, sans a suit jacket, and he was holding a bloodstained compress of some kind to his collar bone. Peter couldn’t see any further up.  

The woman wasn’t pleased, Peter could see her standing with her hands on her hips and he watched as she turned in the direction of the American guy, 

“You saw the Spider-Man and you didn’t do anything?” he could see only the bottom half of her face after she’d turned, her mouth clearly set in an angry pinched line. She was thin as well, with long brownish-red hair that was tied up, he could see the end of her ponytail. And she wore a women’s business suit with heeled boots. Peter could also see that she had a gun in a holster on her hip. 

The American guy shifted as if he shrugged, 

“You hired me to deal with Deadpool. So, that’s what I’ll do. Nothing more, nothing less.” he said casually.  

Everyone in the room was silent as she, probably, glared at him. Peter could only see her jaw clench and her nostrils flare, and then she said, 

“Fucking mercenaries.” before she turned and started to leave the kitchen where they were all standing. After a moment, everyone moved to follow her. The two other accented men came into view then, one was uninjured and he had short red hair, and the other appeared to be bleeding from what looked like a bullet graze on the side of his neck.   

Peter considered the two injured men he’d seen so far. He’d heard three shots fired earlier, but had Dopinder fired all three? Dopinder had had a gun and he’d probably shot at those two guys, who both had wounds in places that could have been fatal if Dopinder’s aim had been better. It made sense to Peter that the cab driver didn’t have good aim. But who fired the third shot? Did the third bullet hit anyone? Maybe not. Dopinder hadn’t been shot as far as Peter had seen, and none of the five people seemed concerned about a dead body.  

He couldn’t try to puzzle it out right then though, he had to focus on the group presently leaving. Peter crawled away from the window and around the house again, glancing in through the windows he passed on the bottom floor, noting that the house appeared empty. There was no furniture of any kind that wasn’t built-in as far in as he could see, and he also didn’t see any dead bodies, thankfully. He wasn’t sure where they’d been keeping Dopinder though, maybe upstairs? He wanted to check, but he had to focus on the group first.  

He stopped crawling at the front corner of the house, peeking around and watching as the group of five walked out of the front door, heading down along the path through the small front yard. The woman was at the front of the line, and she was speaking in that foreign language again, presumably to the other foreigners walking behind her. She stopped at the end of the walk way, making everyone else stop as well to listen to her, and when she was done talking, two of the foreign men went to one of the SUVs and the third one, the red head, went to the other.  

She remained behind with the American, who Peter could now see wore a mask that left his eyes and the lower half of his face visible. The two of them were standing at the end of the garden walkway, and Peter listened as the woman spoke to him in English again, 

“I don’t care how you do it, or what you do to Deadpool, just get me the Matērijas Lauzējs.”  

The mutter-is-law what now? Peter was so confused. 

But the American cleared up some of his confusion when the guy said, 

“Yeah, yeah, must be some special gun. Even got a fancy name.” 

The woman cleared it up even more, 

“It is not just some special gun , it is a sophisticated weapon that you cannot even begin to understand the level of science behind.” she hissed at him, looking him over distastefully. He wasn’t fazed by her insulting him, the man just half rolled his eyes, 

“Yeah, sure. But I wouldn’t be so sure it’s that difficult to understand. When it comes to Deadpool, there isn’t a weapon I haven’t seen him figure out how to use, sophisticated or not.” he snorted, “It doesn’t even have to be a weapon, if it can be used to kill someone, he’ll figure it out.” the guy sounded amused and quite familiar, which made Peter think maybe the guy knew Wade personally. “I heard he once killed a guy with a Zamboni.”  

Peter thought ‘seriously?’ at the same time as the woman frowned quite expressively and asked, 

“A what?” 

American guy sighed and waved it off, 

“Never mind, point is, I’m just surprised he hasn’t used your fancy gun yet.” 

She stared at him for a moment and then she snapped, 

“Just get the fucking weapon!” pausing for a tense glaring moment before adding more meanly, “Or you don’t get paid a fucking cent.” and then she turned on her heel and walked away toward the third SUV.  

Peter had heard more than enough to have figured out they were talking about the gun that he and Wade had taken off that guy that night of the CVS robbery. Wade had said it was probably stolen from someone. Someone dangerous. And those dangerous people were now trying to go after Wade...so they’d kidnapped Dopinder?  

He supposed it made some sense. Even Peter knew Dopinder was Deadpool’s cabbie, or at least, he had been for a while. So other people would know that too, and a cabbie for Deadpool should know some places to find Deadpool; that’s probably what they’d figured at least. But that night when Peter had seen Dopinder again in the Bronx after so long, the first thing he’d said was that he hadn’t seen Wade since before the blip, so that meant Wade hadn’t been in touch with Dopinder at all in a long time. If so, if Wade wasn’t using Dopinder as a cabbie anymore, then the poor guy likely had no idea where Wade even lived after so long. And he also probably had no way to even contact Wade for help.  

So they’d kidnapped him and beaten him for information he didn’t even have. Damn. Poor Dopinder.  

And yeah, poor Dopinder even more, because Peter had to follow the three SUV’s right then and that meant Dopinder would have to remain on the roof of that supermarket for a while longer. It couldn’t be helped though, he had to follow them to see what other bad guy lair they had and then he had to stop them if he could. Wade was in possession of that gun only because of Peter’s forgetfulness, over and over. Now these bad guys had hired another merc to go after Wade and Peter had to take responsibility for that because Wade should never have had the gun in the first place.  

The American merc had left, he’d headed off on foot in the opposite direction of the three SUVs, which were almost out of sight when Peter finally started to follow them. It wasn’t as easy to stay undetected when he couldn’t be high up, so he had to be careful and stay out of sight as he tailed them. He couldn’t help worrying about Dopinder though, and he also thought it would be a good idea to warn Wade about the merc hired to go after him, so even though his heart jumped right up into his throat, he used his suit’s installed com system to dial Wade’s number from his phone contacts.  

But he wasn’t all that surprised, just let down, when he heard the autogenerated ‘this number is unavailable’ message. He hung up the call and sighed, frustrated, annoyed and sad all at once. He wondered what was the phone issue that time; destroyed, lost or just switched off. There was nothing he could do though, he had no other way of contacting Wade, so he had to let it go for the moment.

He followed the SUVs much further south, and even past JFK, and since there were no high buildings, Peter did more crawling and jumping than usual, muttering complaints to himself as he did so, feeling quite physically taxed from all the excess exercise.  

Finally , they reached their destination and he could stop and take a few much needed breaths. He’d landed on the ground and ducked down beside a car, two houses down from where the SUVs had just parked off and from there he watched. The destination was, once again, an odd place, but it had a slightly more typical bad guy hideout feel, since it was in a shadier area. It was also a house though, and the four foreigners made their way into the old and rundown double story, which was on a street that had other equally rundown houses.  

Peter took a moment to consider his options. He had to go in and round em’ up, that was for sure, but he wasn’t sure whether the local police or S.H.I.E.L.D should be who he called afterwards. They all seemed like ordinary people, armed, but ordinary, but they were involved with some real high-tech, possibly alien, weapons development, the likes of which S.H.I.E.L.D usually dealt with.  

If he called S.H.I.E.L.D though, they’d want to know what the bad guys wanted and where the dangerous weapon was, and Peter would have to involve Wade then. But S.H.I.E.L.D currently seemed mostly uninterested in Wade, and Peter didn’t want to mess with that. Also, if they found out Spider-Man was somehow involved with Deadpool, enough to leave a dangerous weapon in his possession, it may get complicated and the misunderstandings and suspicions would start to fly. 

Peter didn’t want that, not for Wade or for himself. 

“Okay, so I’ll disarm and subdue them, call local police, get the gun from Wade myself, and then I’ll turn it over to S.H.I.E.L.D and tell them I had it all along.” he nodded to himself where he was still crouching behind an old Honda.  

Deciding that, he moved quickly around the car, across and down the street, jumped up onto the side of the house and then he snuck inside through an upstairs window. 

There were two other people in the house, Peter discovered them by hearing new voices speaking loudly as he crept his way through the upper floor toward the staircase. The place was very run down and empty of furniture as well, which made every little sound carry. It made the voices distinctly clear, even if nothing was being said in English, but it also meant he had to be extra careful as he crept along the walls, staying off the creaky wooden floors. He made his way until he was on the wall above the staircase. It was the wall separating him from the room where the group of foreign bad guys were gathered. Peter got low and close enough to peek into what turned out to be a sparsely furnished living room area, where he saw six people having a heated discussion.  

Sucked that he couldn’t understand zip. He wasn’t sure that whatever they were saying really mattered though, so he instead started thinking of something clever to say for the moment he made his presence known to them. But then his spider sense started humming and one of the two new people pulled out a gun. A gun that was smaller but had similar characteristics to the one they were trying to get back from Wade.  

Peter immediately shot out a web, yanking the gun away and dropping down to land in the open doorway of the lounge as he said,  

“Hey now, we have enough gun violence in America as it is, take it easy.” while using a web to stick the gun to the ceiling outside the lounge, out of reach, just as they all turned to look at him. Three of them reacted by pulling out normal guns and aiming them at him and he sighed, “That’s, like, the opposite of what I just said, guys.” The woman narrowed her eyes as she cocked the hammer of her gun, glaring, and the unarmed guy with the bullet wound in his clavicle pointed at him and yelled, 

“Kukainis!” 

Peter pointed a finger right back at him, but could only say, 

“I have no idea what that means!” right when his spider sense warned him of the trigger-happy woman’s intentions and he turned the angle of his hand and shot out a web. The trapping web cast wider than they could have anticipated, also it was fast, and it webbed three of them who were standing close enough together. The angry woman, one of the new guys and neck-wound guy all yelled furiously when it hit them, knocking them back and collectively securing them against the far wall. And ouch, they all ended up in uncomfortable positions under the web net, probably hurt.  

He was about to apologize but- 

“Woah!” Peter reacted to his spider sense with a leaping flip up onto a side wall, and just after he landed, a vibration from a blast shook the entire rundown house and Peter watched as a part of the floor, the door arch and the ceiling, all in the spot he’d just been standing, disintegrated! 

So, that’s what the weapon did? Damn.  

The red-haired guy, who previously hadn’t taken out a gun, was the one wielding another of the smaller versions of the big gun, but he didn’t fire again for some reason. Instead, the other new guy who Peter had snatched the first high-tech gun from, took out a normal gun and started shooting at him. 

“So many guns! I feel like- the target in a first –person-shooter!” he quipped as he easily avoided four gunshots by jumping around from wall to ceiling. Before the fifth shot, he returned fire by shooting a net web at the guy shooting at him. It hit the guy hard and knocked him over, trapping him awkwardly against the sofa he’d been standing beside.  

Four down, two to go, and the guy with the injured collarbone didn’t appear to be armed. Maybe the gun Dopinder had had belonged to him? The red head with the disintegration gun was glaring like the angry lady had been, but Peter took note of the fact that he wasn’t trying to fire the gun again yet. So, it had a charging period? It was good to know that kind of stuff, for science reasons, but Peter planned to get the gun from him before he could fire again.  

Surprisingly, the injured guy made a move to reach for something under his jacket, and not taking any chances, from his place on the ceiling, Peter webbed him, wincing when the man yelled out like he was in a lot of pain as he hit the ground. Peter raised a hand, 

“Sorry, man, I was trying to take it easy on you because you’re injured, but you had to go there.” he said, shaking his head. He was actually pretending not to notice that the red head was taking aim at him, obviously setting his spider sense off. Just before the man had the gun properly level, Peter flipped toward him, webbing the gun as he kicked the guy in the shoulder, so that he spun off balance and hit the ground, grunting in pain. Peter hadn’t kicked him that hard but maybe his shoulder was dislocated.  

He landed back near the lounge entrance and quickly webbed the man down without looking, he was more focused on the gun, taking a second to look at it more closely. 

“Yup, pretty similar, like a mini version.” he mumbled, and since everyone was restrained, he walked out of the lounge to where the other gun was webbed, half walking, half crawling up the wall to retrieve it. He dropped back down to his feet once he held both and frowned, mask lenses shifting. He had no idea how to disarm them like Wade had, no idea where to even begin and he didn’t want to waste any time trying to figure it out right then, so he just webbed them together with a few quick shifts and movements of his hands, making a tidy little spider sac, so they’d be easy and safe to carry.  

The webbed down group had been speaking and cursing out aloud for a minute already, but Peter looked up from the webbed package when the woman started to raise her voice, saying something angrily, argumentatively, in their foreign language to one of the other guys webbed separately from her. She sounded a bit desperate actually, like she wanted someone to do something, or not do something. 

Peter spoke over her, 

“Guys, I’m gonna’ call the cops now! So, just sit tight and they’ll come and get you-” 

“Fuck you!” the red head who was nearest to him, webbed down to the floor, spat the two words harshly, and then Peter’s spider sense was rushing through him.  

But his senses told him the danger was coming from the other guy, the one webbed to the sofa, so he leapt that way, past the guy, to the other three who were near the man, webbed and helpless. 

The explosion that followed was pretty harsh, but not massive, so aside from some of the blood and flesh splatter and the heat singeing the surface of his suit, Peter avoided getting caught in it or hurt by it, as well as managing to save the other three webbed goons.   

But it was only after he’d landed on the furthest side of the room near the corner, ears ringing a bit and heart racing, did it catch up to him that there had been two explosions, one almost immediately after the other. His spider sense was great for detecting danger, but when it had alerted him a few seconds earlier, he hadn’t been able to tell it was reacting to two imminent explosions, it’d honed in on the one that had been going to go off first!  

He turned to look back to where he’d been standing. He’d leapt clear across the room from there, away from the red head...who’d been the source of the second explosion. Peter then looked down to the three people he’d saved, they were still captive in the web net, awkwardly struggling in an uncomfortable heap on the ground, still cursing and speaking in their foreign language.   

He was standing in front of them, his instincts to protect them had made him put himself between them and the explosion. But even though he’d saved them... 

Peter was starting to breathe heavily as dread filled his stomach. He turned and walked back across the living room, and the damaged sparse furniture and crumbling wooden flooring had him stepping carefully until he was standing a meter away from what was left of the red head. Peter swallowed thickly, clenching his fist into the thick web layer of the spider sac in his grip, 

“Shit.” he muttered, “Was that some kind of kamikaze attack?” he shook his head, brow furrowing under his mask.   

He trailed his eyes to look at the second body near the red head. The injured guy. Peter hadn’t known the second explosion would happen, and so he hadn’t thought to save the guy...now he was dead. And Peter felt like it was his fault. The sight of him was horrific too. He was still intact enough that his half blown off facial expression would haunt Peter for a long time. Peter swallowed down his nausea and trailed his gaze back to the red head, narrowing his eyes. The red and the other guy who’d blown himself up, they’d both been carrying the high-tech guns.  

He swallowed again, stomach turning, but he was desensitized enough that the blood and guts didn’t make him throw up anymore, or at least hardly ever, not for a few years now. But he still got nauseous, there was no avoiding that. The more prominent emotion he was experiencing was anger. Their ridiculous kamikaze attack, which had definitely and foolishly been intended for him, would have just killed all of them if it hadn’t been for him! How could they be so stupid! They must have realized they couldn’t catch him unawares!  

He whirled around to look at the three who were still struggling, 

“You knew they were both going to kill themselves!” he yelled as much as he could, but his voice pitched weirdly, sounding distorted with the modulator. They all stilled and looked at him, “Why didn’t you say it in English!? I could have stopped them! Or –or at least,” he clenched his teeth, “at least I could have saved him, too.” he glanced at the half-destroyed body of the other man, and then he looked away, shutting his eyes, mask eye lenses closing, and he let out a deep sigh, “Why-...damnit.” he said more quietly, feeling weary and defeated.  

He felt sick and guilty. He already knew why they wouldn’t want to alert him, because they’d stupidly been hoping he would have been caught in the explosion.  He felt even more then, like it was his fault, because he’d chosen to wear his new suit when it wasn’t ready, it was far from ready. The Stark suits, the suits Tony made for him, they would have helped him. Those suits all had real time translators. Those suits had everything, because Tony always thought of everything.   

Peter hadn’t ever felt further away from living up to his mentor’s standards than right then.  

Clenching his jaw, he glanced from the damage of the furniture and floors to the dead bodies, to the blown out glass in the living room windows, then back to the dead bodies. His stomach felt like it was slowly getting heavier as he stared at the dead bodies, but in the end, despite being so tense and feeling so sick and angry, all he could do was sigh again...and then he connected his coms to the police, in case they weren’t already one their way.  

He didn’t stick around for long, after making certain the three were securely webbed, he went out of house and waited nearby, hidden from view. Once he saw the police arrive and head into the house, he left, crawling and jumping away as discreetly as he could, because some people who lived in the rundown neighbourhood had come out to see what had happened. No one noticed him leaving, but the police would find his webs and they’d know he’d been there and the newspapers would possibly –probably- write up something awful about him if the details of the crime scene were leaked.  

Peter couldn’t do anything about it.  

So, feeling really down about how things had turned out, he just headed back the way he’d come, he had to go back to where he’d left Dopinder.

He was honestly pretty exhausted by the time he got back to where he’d left Dopinder. That angry woman had been right, he did mostly stick to the city, where his webs were his primary means of getting around. Being out in residential areas or places with little to no high buildings, it was tough for him to cover far distances. He’d have to think of a way to work out something for that in future. Or he’d need more practice at it.  

He landed soundly and quietly on the rooftop of the supermarket. The streets below and the supermarket itself were still quite busy since it was only just after 9 PM, but the roof was quiet and in relative darkness. After landing Peter jogged across the roof to where he’d left Dopinder...only to find him gone. There were just some dried blood stains left behind where he’d been. 

“What? Ah, man come on.” he groaned to himself, “This really sucks...” Peter sighed, sagging his shoulders. He knew he’d been gone for quite a while, so he knew he shouldn’t be surprised the guy had woken up and left, but it still bummed him out. He had questions .  

He turned in a small circle, looking around at what he could see of the rooftop, just in case, before he started to walk toward the roof ledge., resigned to just leaving. 

He had one foot up on the ledge wall when he heard, 

“Wait, Mister Spider-Man, don’t leave me!” 

Surprised, he turned around to see Dopinder jogging, or more like limping as quickly as he could, toward him from across the roof. He looked like he was coming from where the door of the rooftop was. 

“Hey, I thought you left.” Peter said as he dropped his foot and turned to go toward Dopinder, grabbing his arm to help him steady himself once they reached each other.  

“I tried to, but the door to the roof is locked and unfortunately, DP’s lessons on how to pick locks were never something I could quite master.” he answered, voice sounding tired, matter of fact and regretful at the same time. 

“Oh.” was all Peter could manage right then, “Uh, here, man.” he mumbled, helping Dopinder to walk over and sit down on an equipment mounting structure. Dopinder mumbled a thanks and then there was a beat of silence, before Peter couldn’t help it, because he still had questions! 

“What happened, what did those people want with you?” 

Dopinder looked up at him with his one good eye and he looked like he might cry, but also like maybe that was just his stressed face, 

“It happened a few weeks ago. I was about to begin another day of tedious and soul sucking, but relatively safe, cab driving, when I was unexpectedly accosted and kidnapped. They put a bag over my head,” he frowned thoughtfully, “which I always thought would be terrifying when I saw it in the movies, and it turns it’s much, much worse when it actually happens.” Peter blinked, mask lenses shifting slightly, “And then they took me to that house where they kept me locked in a room. And they would come to the room once a day and ask me questions about DP, beating me savagely when I didn’t say what they wanted to hear.” Peter frowned, bemused and concerned, “At one point I was sure they were going to kill me, I was on the verge of dying. I could feel death’s cold, spindly fingers clutching at my soul.” he was nodding, fingers held tense like claws as he stared off into the distance. Then he looked into Peter’s masked eyes and added, “Being kidnapped and tortured has certainly lived up to my expectations.” and he sounded quite serious, but overall, he seemed okay. 

Maybe Peter was underestimating Dopinder. After all, if he was friends with Wade, there had to be something different about him. He certainly wasn’t reacting normally to being kidnapped and tortured.  

Peter’s frown eased as he considered that, looking over Dopinder, and yeah sure, he’d been beaten up some, but he was fine otherwise. On the verge of death? Peter wasn’t so sure about that. Maybe Dopinder had a penchant for the dramatic? He certainly had one for talking, which made sense for why he and Wade hit it off.  

“They were so cruel,” he picked up on his monologue, “they only gave me something to eat once a day, cold McDonald’s sliders with warm bottled water ,” Peter cocked an eyebrow, fighting a smile, because yeah, Dopinder was a lot like Wade, “and they let me go to the bathroom twice a day, but they wouldn’t let me bath and I think I’ve developed a rash on my-” 

“Dopinder, man, listen,” Peter cut him off, crouching down so he was looking up at the other man, not really keen on hearing where the guy was going with that rash story, “I’m really sorry this happened to you, I’m sure Wa, uh-Deadpool had no idea, or he would have come for you.”  

Dopinder tipped his head, frowning a bit, 

“Pool always told me that if anyone ever held me hostage because of him,” Peter held his breath, wondering if Dopinder had talked and now he felt like he’d betrayed Wa-, “that I should sing like a canary in Spring and tell them everything they want to know.” Peter’s eyes widened, Dopinder glancing at him curiously when his mask eyes made the quiet ‘zzt’ sound, “So, I did as he said, I told them what I knew.” he sighed, hunched shoulders sagging further, “Pool was right, he knew that I would not survive torture, he told me that during my merc training.” what the hel-, “Trying to hold out was never an option.” Dopinder added, nodding to himself.  

“Huh.” Peter managed, then he shook his head to get back on track, “Uh, okay, so, okay, what did you tell them about W-Deadpool?” he had to stop slipping up with that! He didn’t need Dopinder thinking Spider-Man and Deadpool were anything other than two supers who were somewhat familiar. 

Dopinder shrugged and reached up to touch his head, only to wince when he touched the large gash there, and Peter started to think he should actually just get Dopinder to a hospital. 

“I don’t actually know anything about DP anymore,” the man admitted, “I haven’t seen him since before the blip.” and he sounded genuinely sad about it. 

Peter briefly pursed his lips, mask eyes narrowing slightly before he asked, 

“Did you blip?” 

Dopinder’s whole expression became sad then, when he answered, 

“I did. We all did.” 

Peter couldn’t help but to ask, 
“We?” 

“Hm,” he nodded distractedly, staring at his dirty hands, “Me, Weasel, Dom, Miss Althea.” Dopinder sighed, “Even the big shiny man and the cute lesbian couple from the X-Men.” he sounded like he was talking more to himself now and Peter was not about to stop him.  

He was learning more about Wade right then than he had in the weeks they’d known each other.  

“But not Wade.” Peter mumbled, forgetting again and using Wade’s name. 

At least Dopinder didn’t seem to notice, 

“No, he didn’t blip.” the cab driver shook his head, “And Weasel wouldn't help me get in contact with him after we all came back, he still won’t. He keeps saying DP isn’t the same, that he could hurt me for no reason.” he was frowning again, “He said Pool hurt him, when he got angry or something.” Dopinder raised his head and looked at him suddenly, eyes a bit wide, “I don’t know if I can believe it, Mister Spider-Man.” he said earnestly and Peter just averted his mask eyes, not being so sure he didn’t believe it, having seen how volatile Wade could get for some small things, “DP was always violent and it was dangerous to be around him, but he wasn’t dangerous to us, and we chose to be around him anyway, we were fa-” he cut himself off and Peter knew he’d been intending to say family, but instead he said, “friends, we were friends. Pool was my friend.” he finished sadly.  

Peter had no idea what to say to that. He didn’t want Dopinder thinking too hard about how well he and Wade knew each other, so he thought it was best to stay quiet and not give an opinion. But it was making sense in broken bits and pieces, when connected to some of the things he’d managed to learn about Wade. Damn, even now, when they weren’t together, he still wanted to know more about Wade. 

And he knew he shouldn’t, he really did, but he asked anyway, 

“Have you seen W-” he cleared his throat, “Deadpool, have you seen him without his mask on?” 

If Dopinder thought the question was strange, he didn’t show it, he just shook his head. But his answer was the opposite, 

“Oh yes. Unfortunately, I’ve actually seen far more than that.” and Peter didn’t like the word ‘unfortunately’, it made him clench his jaw, but he was also confused by what Dopinder meant. He didn’t have to ask though, because Dopinder elaborated, “No man should have to see what it looks like for another man to lose, and then slowly grow back, entire missing sections of the body,” he paused, shifting his good eye around, before adding, “Although, truthfully, seeing what I’ve seen because of DP has really strengthened my constitution a-”  

“I think we should probably get you to a hospital.” Peter interrupted him, standing up, feeling himself getting annoyed with the negative way Wade’s ‘friend’ was talking about his appearance. He wondered if they all did that? Was that part of the reason why Wade was so intensely insecure? Why would they do that? What kind of friends did that? Maybe he just didn’t understand it.  

He frowned and wondered whether, if things had been different and he and Wade had only established a friendship between them, would he say things like that too? Jokingly or not, he didn’t think he would, he’d never been the type...but as Spider-Man, he sometimes said things that were on the jesting side of mean. That was a habit he’d developed over the last few years, being sarcastic and saying cleverly mean things. He hated to think he would have done the same insensitive thing to Wade under different circumstances.  

“-ospital.” Dopinder had said something, but Peter hadn’t heard him, 

“Uh, I didn’t catch that, can you say it again.” he tilted his head, looking down at him. 

Dopinder was moving to stand up and Peter helped him, 

“I said I don’t want to go to the hospital.” 

“Why, man?” Peter frowned, “You could have a concussion, or some kind of fracture.” 

“DP had his body torn clean in half more than once,” Dopinder stated and Peter’s mouth dried up as that image came into his mind, devastatingly clear, “I think I can bare a concussion or a bone fracture.” he sounded proud of himself. But, 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Peter mumbled, discomfited by what Dopinder had said about Wade, but still, it was Wade, who had a ridiculous healing factor, while Dopinder was just a dude. And even though he definitely hadn’t been beaten within an inch of life, he was still pretty clearly in pain and needed some medical attention.  

“I can’t go home, they know where I live.” Dopinder sighed, sounding like he was complaining more than fretting, “I will have to go to Weasel’s apartment. He will have some prescription drugs that will make me pass out and feel no pain for a few days.” the cab driver managed a wavering smile when he looked at Peter again, and Peter was very concerned about...well, everything Dopinder had said to him so far. But it wasn’t his place to force the guy to go to the hospital, so, all he could do was offer, 

“Uuuh, okay. Well, I can take you to this Weasel guy’s place.” 

Dopinder’s eyes widened then, and for the first time Peter saw the criminal -e sque side of him considering whether it was a good idea to let Spider-Man know where Deadpool’s contract killing job handler lived.  

Peter reached out and patted Dopinder’s shoulder. He was tempted to pat it just a little harder than necessary, because the cab driver was somewhat of a criminal after all, but the guy was already hurt, so he just patted with a normal firmness –Dopinder still winced- and he said, 

“Don’t worry, I already know Weasel is Deadpool’s job handler. You can relax.” and it was true, Wade had told him that himself. 

Dopinder seemed to relax, but not completely, 

“Oh, so you are familiar with what Mister Pool does?” he asked, and Peter nodded, amused by all the different ways Dopinder referred to Wade, all other than by his name, “And you’re okay with it?” he sounded confused now.  

Peter thought for a second about how to answer that question, and finally he settled on, 

“I...understand it’s necessity, to an extent.” and it was true. It’d be better if Wade didn’t kill his marks and rather just helped in catching them, but Peter also understood that some of the high-end criminals always evaded arrest and prosecution through underhanded means. So the justice system, flawed as it was, wasn’t always reliable.  

Yeah, he understood it’s necessity.  

“Ah, okay.” Dopinder did relax then, “DP must be happy about that, he was always a fan of yours.” the cab driver smiled, wincing when it split the cut in his lip open. They started to walk toward the edge of the roof, Peter smirking under his mask when he asked, 

“He’s a fan?” 

Dopinder didn’t miss a beat, 

“Yes, he would often say you were the only Avenger who was a real hero.” well, Peter didn’t agree with that, but it was sweet anyway, “And he always had two plush toys he was fond of, a unicorn one and a Spider-Man one.” Peter’s smirk turned into a smile, while Dopinder frowned thoughtfully, “But I always wondered if something happened to the Spider-Man one, because at some point I stopped seeing it around his apartment.”  

Peter’s smile faded. He could only assume Dopinder was talking about before the blip, because the guy hadn’t seen Wade after, so then...Wade maybe got rid of that plush after he’d found out Peter was a kid back then? That would be a bit crappy if it was the case, it was just a plush toy after all.  

He held back a sigh and when they stopped at the roof’s edge, he turned to face Dopinder while mentally working out the best arrangement for swinging. Aside from MJ, Peter had only occasionally, and for brief periods of time, needed to carry people while swinging.  

But for Dopinder, the distance would be longer and- 

“Is that a s-spider egg sac?” Dopinder asked out of nowhere, voice sounding uneasy, and Peter frowned, looking down to where he’d securely webbed the sac to the front, right side of his abdomen and hip, 

“Wha-no, I mean, it’s a web sac, yeah, but it’s not eggs. It’s guns.” and to Peter that sounded worse , so he was about to try to explain that, but to Dopinder that was apparently far less weird, because he said, 

“Oh, good, if it were a sac full of spider eggs that would have been absolutely terrifying.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes and decided to mess with him a little, 

“You know, you’d be calling my kids terrifying, if it was my spider egg sac.”  

Dopinder's eyes widened again and he put his hands up apologetically, 

“I don’t mean any offense Mister Spider-Man,” he said with a nervous smile before he became very somber, “I am just very, very afraid of actual spiders.” he looked really sincere about it. And Peter was about to snort, and to tell Dopinder he was just messing around, but Dopinder added, “Aside from being spiders however, I’m sure your babies would be perfectly adorable and acceptable arachnids...all several hundred of them.” he wasn’t able to say it without a full body shudder though, looking very disturbed. 

Peter really had no response to that comment though, because a) Dopinder had seen his face, and he could see Peter had a human body, so he knew Peter wasn’t an ‘actual’ spider. And b) he was male.   

So, moving on, 

“Uh, okay, so I think you should get on my back.” he changed the subject and started to check his web fluid supply, “I’ll swing you over to Weasel’s place, sound good?” 

When Dopinder didn’t respond, he looked at the cab driver to find him staring wide eyed and pale, 

“S-swing, as i-in, above the ground, high above the g-ground. Like I’ve seen you do on the news?” Dopinder sounded terrified all of a sudden, far more than having been kidnapped and the spider egg sac thing had managed to scare him. Peter finished checking his web fluid and he shrugged to Dopinder, saying, 

“Yeah, don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.” because he wouldn’t. 

“I think that is an extremely bad idea, I have a fear of h-heights.” 

Actual spiders and heights? Okay, but, 

“It’s the fastest way.” 

“I will probably die.” 

Peter couldn’t help that he laughed, half incredulous, half offended, 

“Wha- no way, I won’t drop you, dude.” 

“No, no, Mister Spider-Man, I’m not doubting you. I believe you are very capable.” he said seriously, then, “I think the shock may kill me.” and he glanced back to the roof door, “If you could open the door for me, I will just walk.” he tried to smile, wincing at his cut lip again.  

Peter raised an eyebrow, one mask lense widening with the action, 

“Walk huh?” he looked over Dopinder’s condition and then to the city buildings in the distance, “Where exactly does this Weasel guy live?” 

“Uuuuh.” Dopinder said, and then he looked toward the city with a defeated expression. “He lives in Hunts Point.”  

Damn, that was even further than Peter had thought, 

“Yeah?” Peter put his hands on his hips and tilted his head, “You gonna’ walk there?” he asked, but they both knew that was nuts. So when Dopinder didn’t answer, Peter turned around halfway to offer his back to the cab driver, “Come on, it’ll be quick.” 

Dopinder hesitated, then asked, 

“M-maybe you could loan me money for a cab.” quite hopefully, “I will definitely give the money back to you.” he assured. 

And, yeeeeah, actually, Peter could do that, he did carry some money on him when he patrolled, in case he ever needed it for something. But that wouldn’t work for him, because he kind of had the ulterior motive of learning more about Wade’s life, which included knowing where weaselneverwins69 lived. So, he needed to come up with an excuse, 

“Uh,” what was it that Wade had said to Dom on the phone that day? Oh, right, “sorry, man, I never carry money when I’m patrolling, it ruins the lines of my suit.” he held his hands up to as a gesture to show the skin tightness of his suit.   

Dopinder barely glanced at him, but Peter couldn’t help thinking of the inappropriate –but not unwelcome- looks and comment Wade would have made. His ears got a bit hot and he thought ‘ I miss him’. He had to hold back another sigh.  

Dopinder looked defeated all over again, so Dom had been right, that excuse worked on him, he didn’t even seem to suspect Peter was lying to him. Poor guy. 

“I’ll go slower, okay.” he offered, but that was a lie too. Going slow when webbing was really hard. Peter didn’t like speeding in a car, but on webs? There was no stopping him. Also, the distance was far . 

“Slower.” Dopinder repeated, Peter nodded and then, hesitantly, the cabbie stepped a little closer. 

“Yeah.” yeah, nope, there was a lot of ground to cover, no going slow. 

“Okay.” he lifted his arms to put them around Peter’s neck from behind. 

“Okay.” Peter bent at the knees and once Dopinder was close enough, he grabbed him behind his knees and lifted him. To Peter, he essentially weighed nothing, and they were basically the same height, so it wasn’t too awkward either. But Dopinder made a very nervous sound and he held on tighter, which was better for what came next.  

Very quickly Peter webbed Dopinder’s arms together around his neck, not trusting him to hold on himself without slipping or possibly fainting on the way. Dopinder pulled on his arms and started saying, 

“Ohnoohnoohohno-” before Peter had even taken a step. 

Peter just spoke over him, voice light and pleasant, 

“It’s gonna’ start out a little bumpy until we get to some higher buildings.” and he started quickly backing up away from the edge of the building so he could get a running start, 

“I think I’d like to change my mind!” he’d backed up enough, so Peter started running toward the edge, “I’ll just hitchhi-iiiaaahnonononohnoohno!” 

Over the sound of Dopinder’s renewed ‘ohnos’ Peter said,  

“Whatever you do, don’t throw up!” and at the edge, one foot hitting the ledge first, he jumped.

Dopinder definitely held on, and he didn’t faint.  

But Peter’s ears were ringing because the cab driver had screamed almost the entire way, especially once the taller buildings had come up and Peter had started swinging. The higher they went, the louder Dopinder got. But other than clinging to him like a monkey and screaming like a little girl, it was fine. Oh, and Peter was exhausted as hell, but other than that , it was fine.  

They reached Hunts Point about twenty minutes later; the best thing about webbing was that there was nothing to slow the way once he reached taller buildings, effectively cutting the travel time in half. 

Peter had landed as gently as he could at the mouth of an alley, which was across from the building address he’d managed to get out of a faint Dopinder during a brief pause enroute, where he’d stuck to the side of a tall building, much to Dopinder’s horror.  

On solid ground presently, and having arrived at their destination, Peter ripped the webs off Dopinder’s forearms and patted his legs, which were still tightly hooked around him. 

“Hey, we’re here, it’s okay to let go now.” 

Dopinder made a startled relieved sound, like maybe he’d had his eyes closed and hadn’t realized it was over, and he let go all at once, which meant he fell right down onto his butt on the ground.   

Peter quickly turned around to check on him, but he’d already rolled sideways and was kissing the ground, whispering his relief to the concrete. So Peter just awkwardly stood by and mumbled, 

“That’s not very sanitary, man.”  

After a few weird seconds of Dopinder getting reacquainted with the ground, the man finally reoriented himself and Peter held out a hand to help him stand up. His legs were wobbly but he managed to stay upright and he even managed a smile and a thank you, although his smile looked a little terrifying and he was windswept in a very comical way, so Peter had to hold back a small snort.  

“It’s no problem. Just glad I could help.” he said levelly and then glanced across the street to the dodgy looking building that was the address Dopinder had given him. “That the place?” he asked, aiming for casually curious. He felt like he nailed it. 

“Yes, I have been here quite a few times, not recently, but in the first few months after the blip.” Dopinder was looking up, and Peter followed his line of sight to the fourth or fifth floor of the building. 

“You sure he’s home?” there didn’t appear to be any lights on in any of the windows. Maybe the building had no power? 

“I don’t know.” he half shrugged. After everything, now when he seemed to feel safer, he looked exhausted and Peter felt bad for him. He wanted to help, 

“I can wait, you can check, if he’s not here I can take you somewhere else?” he felt like it was a favour he could do for Dopinder, who’d once driven him home maskless and hadn’t even batted an eyelash or asked a single question.  

Dopinder looked at him and after a moment he nodded, but then shook his head, 

“Thank you, but it’s okay. If he’s not here, I’ll just wait.”  

Peter just nodded, he didn’t want to push, it was still possible that Dopinder didn’t feel comfortable about Spider-Man knowing any criminal connections involved with Wade.  

And since Dopinder had never pried, Peter wouldn’t either. 

“Okay, sure, well, I’ll get going then. You should probably stay off the streets for a while,” he took a few steps back, “they might keep looking for you.”  

Dopinder nodded, but didn’t move, as if he was waiting for Peter to leave. For Spider-Man to leave.  

So, he did...

...at least as far as Dopinder would see.   

He jumped and leapt and swung out of sight, then crawled and jumped and leapt his –tired- way back around. And when he returned, back to where he’d left Dopinder, Peter was actually surprised to see the man walking further down the block, away from the apartment block address the cab driver had given him. And at the end of the block, he disappeared around a corner.   

Peter followed him, crawling and jumping silently along the buildings for two whole blocks, into a different street, on which Dopinder went up to the cracked glass doors of another taller apartment building, where he looked at the building’s buzzer panel. 

So, he’d lied about the address? Okay, fine, fair was fair. It’s not like Dopinder had any reason to trust Spider-Man. Peter wasn’t even mad. 

It didn’t matter anyway, he was still finding out what he’d wanted to; where Weasel lived. He used the zoom function in his eye lenses to see which buzzer Dopinder pressed, it was apartment three on the third floor. Peter couldn’t hear anything from that distance, but Dopinder leaned in to talk into the half busted buzzer panel, which meant Weasel was home.  

He waited and watched from a relative distance, as Dopinder took his finger off the buzzer and turned to push one of the cracked glass doors open, letting it fall closed behind him as he disappeared inside the dimly lit foyer of the building. Peter remained where he has, thinking and thinking again whether he should go to the third-floor windows or not, to see if he could spot Dopinder and the Weasel guy. Was that too creeper-ish?  

He was curious though, he still wanted to know more about Wade but...but he and Wade were broken up, weren’t they? Or, maybe they hadn’t even actually been an item? They’d never even discussed it properly. But anyway, if they were broken up, then Peter shouldn’t be snooping around Wade’s life.  

He should just leave.  

He sighed where he was sitting against the wall on an apartment building which was one other building down and opposite from the one Dopinder had gone into. Peter pursed his lips, contemplating a little while longer, indecisive on what to do or not do, and then he sighed and reached into his concealed pocket. Pulling his phone out, he quickly pulled up Wade’s last contactable number. It was the last number called in his recent log, and he decided to try one more time. He told himself it was for Dopinder’s sake when he tapped the call button, then he took in a breath and put the phone to his ear.  

After a second, the call connected and the phone started ringing.  

Peter held his breath, eyes widening and heart starting to race when it actually started ringing... 

And his gaze was absently focused on the building Dopinder had gone into, so Peter saw it clearly, the very moment when glass shattered on the side of the very same building, and something small went flying with force out of a...third floor window.  

The phone kept ringing as Peter watched the small thing sail through the air, too small to catch the light from the buildings around it, and then it was falling and the second it hit the ground...the call went dead on Peter’s side. He blinked. And blinked again. And again. 

That...was a coincidence, right? Peter frowned as his stomach tensed up, and when he took his phone away from his ear, he zoomed in his lenses in order to get a better look at what had gone careening out of the window. And sure enough, there on the ground surrounded by shattered glass, was a non-descript black smartphone.  

His stomach felt super heavy and tense and when he looked at his phone screen, heart hammering, he tried to call the number again, but that time the call didn’t even connect before returning him to the call log screen. So, was that Wade’s phone lying on the ground? Had...had Wade thrown his phone out of the window just because Peter had been calling him?   

Tears were welling up in Peter’s eyes quite suddenly. 

Because ouch...that really, really hurt.  

He blinked some wetness out of his eyes and swallowed sorely. He felt angry, but mostly helpless and vulnerable right then. It was a different kind of pain, knowing that his phone call pissed Wade off so much, the merc had thrown his phone out of a window! Peter slipped his cell back into his concealed pocket and he told himself to just go home. There was nothing else he could do right then. He knew though, that he’d probably just spend the night cryi-   

Sudden movement in the foyer of Weasel’s apartment building made him refocus his watery eyes, and Peter watched as the glass doors were slammed open, the previously cracked glass easily breaking completely and falling to the floor noisily. It was loud enough that Peter could hear it from all the way over where he was. There were a few other people milling around or walking by who noticed the commotion and some stayed to watch, while others walked faster. Some lights were even being switched on in other apartment buildings, but Peter hadn’t taken his eyes off the doorway, not once he’d realized it was Wade who was coming out of the building.  

He was in his full suit, armed as usual, and he’d crunched through the glass underfoot as he walked with some seriously intimidating intent away from the apartment building, walking into the street and not on the sidewalk. Peter blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from his eyes, the need to cry giving way to curiosity when, a moment later, another guy came out of the building. The man slowed down to look dubiously at the broken glass, before continuing, walking over it and jogging after Wade. They were more or less heading Peter’s way down below in the street and he stayed completely still as they got nearer.  

The unknown man was a tall, blonde scruffy guy, and he was getting nearer and nearer to Wade as he jogged, and just when he was a few feet away, he said, 

“Wade!” in a nasally sort of voice, stretching a hand out. Peter watched, seeing that he wanted to grab Wade’s shoulder, but then he seemed to think better of it and he dropped his hand, saying, “I need to be able to call you when I track down the information! You need a phone, Wade!” he’d moved something from one hand to another and when he got close enough, he waved another non-descript black smartphone just beside Wade’s face as they kept walking.  

Wade snatched his wrist so fast Peter actually blinked twice in surprise, a bit impressed. But he was less impressed when Wade stopped walking and dragged the guy forward, half twisting his arm as he did so, and catching the phone when the guy dropped it. 

His grip was obviously painful, since the guy said, 

“Fuuucck, Jesus, fuck, fuck, Wade! Let go, you, ah, fuck!” as he bent his body into the angle of the grip like he wanted to relieve the pain. Wade didn’t hold him for long though, letting his wrist go shortly after taking the phone.  

“Make sure Dopinder gets to a fucking hospital.” Wade snapped and kept walking, not even looking back at the guy, who’d stopped following and was holding his wrist and glaring as Wade walked away, “Use one of my business accounts to pay for the bill and take him to stay at my place in Foxhurst. And Weasel,” Wade stopped abruptly and turned around to look at the blonde, “you’d better fucking stay with him.” he said it like a threat, pointing at the guy, who was apparently Weasel.  

He wasn’t what Peter had expected. He was about the same height as Wade, just lanky and weak shouldered, instead of broad and built. Peter had expected someone more weaselly looking. Smaller, with a sly appearance or-  

“This isn’t my fault, Wade!” Weasel surprised Peter by how moody and unafraid he sounded. Wade had continued walking, and Peter could feel his spider sense start to tick up in regards to Wade, which meant the blonde should be more afraid. 

Wade didn’t do anything violent though, but he about faced and yelled, 

“Not your fucking fault!?” but the spider sense warning was moderate, which meant things might get violent. Peter wouldn’t let Wade hurt Weasel though, but he didn’t want to step in, not before his sense warned him that he absolutely had to. He’d rather not reveal himself if he could hel-. “You’re the one who wouldn’t let him contact me!” Wade continued to yell, voice very aggressive, very threatening, and Weasel stepped back, even though Wade was about twenty-five feet from him, “ you’re the reason I didn’t fucking know those cuntbags even had him!”  

Peter noticed how tense Wade was, and with his senses humming he knew Wade wanted to lash out. But the merc was holding himself back, as if he, himself, didn’t want to hurt Weasel too badly, as if he knew he had to keep his distance from the other man or he might not be able to stop himself.  

“Was I supposed to send him straight to you after the blip!?” Weasel yelled back, nasally voice both wary and tense, but still he seemed to be brave enough to yell at Wade and say, “You’ve gone fucking nuts and you know it! If I’d sent him to you like he’d wanted, and he’d said the wrong thing or looked at you the wrong way, you’d probably also have shoved a gun in his face, or nearly broken his fucking arm!” Weasel gestured to his own injured arm. “The only fucking person who’s safe around you is Domino, and that’s because of her mutant powers!”  

“I’d never- ” Wade started, but then stopped suddenly. And Peter noticed how he tensed up a little more, but it was a different kind of tenseness. 

“You’d never what? Kill us?!” Weasel went on, “Okay, Wade, that’s just fucking great, there’s a shit ton of loopholes for you work with in there, but fine, you wouldn’t kill us.” he said sarcastically, then shouted, “Are we supposed to be grateful to you?!”  

Wade didn’t respond.  

He just turned his head very slightly, left...Peter was up high on the building to Wade’s left. And his spider sense was still humming, but he felt it change from an alert of danger, to the warning sense that someone was possibly aware of him, about to find him.  

“I was trying to protect him!” Weasel kept going, watching Wade as he yelled and seeming to gain more bravado the longer Wade didn’t react to him. Maybe he thought he was getting through to Wade or making him feel bad, but Wade wasn’t focused on him, not anymore. Peter knew Wade was aware of him, focused on him now. Somehow, Wade knew he was there. His spider danger senses had gone completely quiet, leaving behind only the warning that he was about to be discovered.  

So, Peter moved, very slowly and very silently, up the building and over the ledge, slipping out of sight. He didn’t need to see it to know that Wade had just looked over his shoulder, had looked up to where he’d just been. His senses were quite accurate in some ways, the warning buzz changing enough so he’d known when Wade had been about to turn, and because he was trying to stay hidden, he’d known just when to move out of sight. So Wade, while having known he was there somehow, would not have actually seen him. And his spider sense went quiet again, meaning Wade was not going to look for him.  

Peter let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  

Yet, he didn’t even know why he wanted to hid-...or actually, no, he knew. It was because he was still feeling vulnerable. His chest was hurting again, but he ignored it. He focused rather on remaining hidden, and no longer able to see what was happening, he tried to hear what he could.  

But there was no more talking happening, instead he heard the sound of tar scuffing underfoot, fading out at a steady pace. That was Wade’s walk, Wade’s pace, Wade’s boots. Walking away. And then he heard Weasel mutter ‘asshole’, before he started to walk away too, his footsteps less heavy, less sure, steps dragging and getting further away, in the opposite direction.   

That was it. There was nothing more to stick around for. He regretted coming there and he just wanted to leave. To go home. Peter didn’t even look back over the ledge, he just stood up, ran across the roof toward the edge and he jumped, shot out a web and swung away. 

He left, just as Wade and Weasel had done, but in the direction of Queens.

A lot had happened that evening and he was tired...but most of all, he was hurt, all over again.  

He’d called Wade and the older super had literally thrown his phone out of a window.  

So, Wade was that angry at him?  

Wade was that uninterested in talking to him?  

Wade found his calls that annoying?  

Fine. It was...fine.

With tears on their shoes and ice on their shoulders.

Chapter Text

...broken hinges on my casket.

SOME HOURS EARLIER   

“-sus Christ.”  

Wade heard the words filter through to him, cutting into the noiseless black void he’d been suspended in. It sounded muffled, like he was inside a closed box, not far away but also not too close. He recognized the voice too, although he couldn’t place it...but something in his reptile brain was displeased by being interrupted and it decided the voice, the person, was not welcome.    

He twitched his fingers, finding both his hands in working order, and finding something held in his right hand. A squeeze of his palm and flex of his fingers confirmed there was a gun in his grip. His brain was screaming at him to shoot whoever was trespassing. So, he raised the gun in the general direction of where the voice had come from and he squeezed the trig- 

CRASH  

”Ah, fuuck!!” he yelled and dropped the gun, body jerking forward as he was abruptly forced to open his aching eyes and bring the world into focus. He first squinted at his arm, seeing blearily that it looked broken, his forearm misaligned. What the fuck? And it hurt, but there was already a lot of pain happening in his body as it was, so he was honestly more startled by whatever heavy thing had just fallen on him.  

“Were you about to shoot at me?” the familiar voice asked.  

Wade lifted his head as he made himself sit up properly. Despite his mind being fragmented and foggy, he was at least aware that he was in his suicide room, sitting in his big, plush, brown leather recliner armchair. And once he was sitting up properly, he blinked a few times and focused his eyes on...Dom. She was standing near the door to the room, looking at him with an expression that was half annoyed, and half, well, something else Wade couldn’t clearly read.   

But she was nowhere near close enough to have done anything to him, like breaking his fucking arm, so what the fuck? And how’d she get in? Didn’t he lock that fucking door?  

He couldn’t actually remember. 

Ah fuck it. Wade ignored her, looking down at his arm again, and with a grimace he jerked the limb, snapping the bone back in to place. As he flexed his now empty hand, his gaze drifted to the heavy steel ceiling fan lying on the ground and partially against his right leg at an awkward angle, one of the blades digging into his knee cap.  

Ah, so that’s what had fallen down on him.  

He blinked unevenly, one eye narrowing as his brain started up properly and he recalled that Dom had asked him a question. And yeah, he had been going to shoot her, because he hadn’t been totally aware of anything other than that he felt like she was an intruder...but as luck would have it, as her luck always had it, the ceiling fan had fallen on him at just the right moment.   

Had it even been damaged, how’d it come out of the ceiling? He didn’t-  

Looking up, he blinked slowly, seeing there was actually a lot of damage in the ceiling. He lowered his head again, and trailed his gaze around the rest of the mostly empty room. It looked pretty wrecked, with extensive damage to not only the minimal furniture, but the walls, the door, the flooring... 

Shifting his eyes to stare at the ceiling fan again, he vaguely remembered going ape shit. 

And then he remembered why.  

Fuck. It. All.  

Fully awake now and pissed off at being conscious too soon, Wade asked gruffly, 

“How the fuck did you get in here?” finally looking at Dom again, who’d walked further in and was looking around the destroyed room. When he spoke to her though, she looked at him directly and she made a face like she was smelling something bad, and okay yeah, there was a lot of old blood and brain matter stinking up the room, but he probably also looked gross. Could have been either one. 

She was shaking her head when she sardonically asked, 

“Into your apartment? Or your fucked up little hobby room?” but she also sounded annoyed, and oddly upset. Maybe it was because he’d almost shot her? But obviously her stupid super power had saved her, so what the fuck was she mad about?  

He was the one who was dealing with an unwanted fucking visitor at a time when he needed to be left the absolute fuck alone, 

“Okay, I’ll change the question.” he said through clenched teeth, “What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled out as he looked at her, being obvious about how pissed off he was. But as per usual, Dom was not intimidated by him and she glared right back, even walked over to stand closer, stopping not too far away from him and folding her arms over her chest, 

“I’m here because you wanted to ask me for a favour, you jackass,” she informed him, unimpressed, “but then you didn’t call and you didn’t answer your phone for five fucking days.” her voice was bordering on pissed off now, but still upset. “I finally made myself come here again, even though I tried to talk myself out of it, told myself you were just being a dick as usual, and then I find this .” she unfolded her arms to gesture around the disgusting, death scented room, “What the fuck is this, Wade?”  

Wade stood up abruptly, taking a step toward her and getting right in her face, glaring down at her, 

“It’s none of your fucking business.” he snapped, baring his blood-stained teeth, voice a low, gruff warning. Dom surprisingly actually took a half a step back when he’d stood, easily towering over her. But her brief wariness didn’t last long, and then she was suddenly leaning closer and looking up at him with a frown on her face, 

“Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with your eyes?” 

Wade blinked, her question throwing him off because...she could see his eyes? Where was his mask? He brought a hand up to his face, feeling that it was bare. When had he taken his mask off? Or- wait...wait. He hadn’t been wearing a mask, or at least not his own mask, he’d been wearing the cheap Spider-Man mask.  

Spider-Man. Peter. Five days? Dom had said five days. He’d been isolating and shooting himself in the head every day and night for five days. Now that he was thinking about it, he also remembered tearing the place up, and smashing his face into a few walls. He also recalled that the building manager had come to check on him at some point and he’d threatened him at gun point. There’d been no police who’d showed up though, so Wade had either been particularly persuasive with his threats or he’d bribed the guy into silence. He couldn’t recall all the details. He knew he might after a few hours or days, but sometimes the time he lost never came back to him.  

He preferred when he didn’t remember. Once upon a time, after Vanessa, before the blip, trying to kill himself had been creative and experimental. But after the blip? Every time he did it, it was always just fueled with so much ugly rage, bitterness an-  

“Fuck, it’s weird. One of your eyes is normal, but the other is, like, just, white.” Dom informed him without prompting, still frowning up at him. 

Wade had been staring at the floor, but he met her gaze again and then he looked down at himself, a frown forming on his face too. He was still in the same clothes he’d been wearing the night Peter was there. And fuck, wow, his sense of smell was finally back online and the stench of the room was repulsive. The smell of blood, flesh and possibly even piss, trapped in the room was...disgusting.   

Everything stank, and he felt so revolting. How was Dom not gagging? 

She was just standing there, looking at him, expression disturbed, upset and concerned all at once.  

He stank like death, felt like it and he was clammy and filthy and no one was supposed to see him like that. But Dom was seeing it...and she was somehow still standing there. Standing him. 

“Wade?” she prompted, sounding wary and concerned and it made Wade feel sick, “What happened?” 

He looked her over, and under his anger and rising feelings of shame, he managed to feel bad that she was standing in his dried blood splatter and piss in her nice, expensive red leather combat boots. 

He just so badly wanted her to get the fuck out.  

“It happens, after head injuries.” he managed to say as he stepped around her to walk toward the door, wanting to leave the disgusting room. Wanting her to leave the disgusting room. He walked out into the hallway and after turning too quickly, he found himself swaying a bit and bumping into the opposite wall. Apparently, his brain was still healing. He continued down the hall a bit slower, using the wall for support and smearing more blood along the away from his soiled clothes and hands.  

He had to step over some larger things and walk through others, all strewn around as he went, and there were cracks and missing chunks in the walls and floor too. The place looked really fucked up.  

Five days of spinning out would do that, he supposed.   

“What?”  

Wade almost started at the word, not realizing Domino was following so close behind him. He half rolled his eyes, half grimaced, head still hurting, brain still connecting all the wiring. She was annoying him.  

He wasn’t ready to be around people.  He wanted her to fuck off, but some less messed up part of his brain was preventing him from telling her to do so. Instead, it made him answer, 

“Sometimes, they heal wrong,” even though his jaw felt stiff and he wanted to keep it clenched shut, “my eyes heal wrong, after too many times.” he gruffly explained, then cleared his throat and without looking at her he put a finger gun to his temple and he mimicked shooting himself, making two clicking sounds with his mouth.  

He’d reached the kitchen entrance and he walked in, heading to his fridge, not even wincing or hesitating as he walked over the shattered glass and different food stuff all over the floor, just focused on the task of getting something to drink. 

“Okay.” Dom said from somewhere behind him, “I didn’t know that.” 

“Neither did I.” he said tensely as he yanked the half-broken refrigerator door open, “Not until the first time I gave myself enough head injuries in a row for it to happen.” reaching for a bottle of water lying on its side on the lowest shelf. His throat ached, mouth tasted awful.  

There was a beat of silence as he uncapped and drained the bottle, and only once he’d crushed the plastic in his hand and tossed it on the floor, did Dom speak again, 

“So, that room, the, uh, the shooting yourself in the head thing, when did that start?” she sounded upset again, and oddly disapproving. It was irritating the shit out of him and he slammed the broken fridge door shut, breaking it further by doing so, as he turned to look at her, mismatched eyes fixed on her,  

“What the fuck does it matter-” 

“Because it’s fucked up, Wade!” she spoke loudly over him, cutting him off. He hated being cut off. 

She jumped when he slammed his fist hard enough into the side of the fridge that it hit loudly against the wall, jerking with a shift and settling in a crooked lean. The motor rattled inside the appliance loudly for a moment before it cut out and the steel side was left with a heavy dent where his fist had connected. Wade didn’t take his eyes off Domino, 

“I am fucked up! Or haven’t you fucking noticed!?” he approached her, moving more steadily, faster, and she took half a step back, but he just walked past her, even as he bumped her into the door frame. Because he was broad and she was in the fucking way!! “Isn’t that why you chose to stay away from me before?!” he was half yelling as he walked into the trashed living room, “Why the fuck haven’t you left yet? Isn’t this all too fucked up for you?!”  

The part of his brain that had been keeping his mouth shut, was now failing him.  

Dom though, she was some kind of resilient when it came to his bullshit, 

“So, this started after the blip, right?” and she was following him again.  

Wade tried to ignore her, feeling his temper rising more and more. He focused instead on looking for a mask, even a dirty one would be fine. He just wanted to cover his face. But he wasn’t finding anything as he scanned his eyes around the room, pushing and tossing shit around aggressively.  

All he did see and hear were memory flashes of Peter standing there, in that room, in the dim light. Peter’s brown eyes that had been wet with tears. Peter yelling right in his face. Peter’s shaken voice. Peter leaving through the window... 

Wade was starting to breathe heavily.  

That was exactly what had been happening for the past five days. Every time he walked into that room all he saw was the memory of Peter leaving. Leaving him. It made him feel crazy and that was exactly what he’d feared would happen to him if he was rejected. He’d known he would spiral.  

But he hadn’t been rejected. He’d just let Peter down and had made him cry and made him hurt and so Peter had chosen to leave him and that was somehow so much fucking worse .   

It would have been deserved for him to suffer by himself, but Peter had been hurt too and it-  

Dom touched his shoulder.   

Wade did not want to be touched. 

He reacted on his temper, turned around and grabbed her by the throat, took a large step, lifted her off the ground before slamming her right up against the nearest wall, hard.  

She looked startled, surprised and frightened, her eyes wide as she reached up and grabbed at his wrist.  

Looks like her luck had just run the fuck out.  

She fought though, lashing out at him, kicking his thigh hard, kneeing his side, trying to hit him in the face. And Wade felt it, but only barely, because while Dom was a strong woman, against him, especially with no superhuman strength, she wouldn’t be able to dislodge him. Or overpower him. Even as she brought her legs up to wrap around his upper body, grabbed his shoulder, tried to pull him off balance. Nope. That wouldn’t work. He had her by the throat. End of story. In terms of strength, Wade had her beat. He stared into her shocked face, thinking of how he could just keep choking her until she passed out. She couldn’t stop him, not without a weapon to possibly help her, or without that fucking probability altering super power of hers.   

As he held her there though, it sunk in that he was waiting for her power to kick in. She was looking paler as he squeezed on her carotid arteries, his large hand totally covering her vulnerable throat. He stared right into her wide eyes...Dom staring right back at him. Angry and maybe a little scared. 

Why wasn’t her power kicking in? When would it stop him? It had to stop him, it had to, he didn’t want to...  

Wade’s haze of anger faded and he blinked rapidly as he let go of her and backpedaled,  

“Fuck, fffffuck...fuck, fuck, fuck! What am I doing!” he yelled at himself, grabbed his head, but he had no time to be angry at himself because it was barely three seconds before Dom came at him. She was pissed , kicking him in the side hard enough that in his disoriented state he went down hard, landed on the cluttered ground gracelessly, and then she had a booted foot on his chest and a sawn-off shotgun, looked like the one he usually left near the apartment door, aimed right in his face.  

He felt sick all over again. He was sick of himself. 

“Please.” Wade breathed out, “Please fucking shoot me.” he asked her, begged her, his mismatched eyes wide as he lifted his head so his forehead bumped the muzzle. He felt desperate. He wanted as many resets as it took until maybe it’d fuck up his brain enough that he’d forget what a pathetic fucking piece of shit he was.  

He was tired of hurting people he cared about. He was tired of hurting himself. He was tired of hurting every moment of every day in his cancerous body. He was so tired.  

“Please, Dom.” he thumped his head back on the ground, just lied there, looking up at her, defeated, “Just do it. Just shoot me and leave. Get out of here. Get the fuck away from me.” 

And he honestly expected her to do it. He’d just choked her. Killing him was the least she should do. But she surprised him all over again when she just shook her head and abruptly lowered the gun. She still looked pissed as she tossed it aside and took her boot off his chest, 

“Get the fuck up, Wade.” she instructed.  

He didn’t. He didn’t want to. She placed her hands on her hips, glared down at him and paced shortly. Wade watched her, noticed some bruising forming on her neck. Fuck, he was so fucked up. 

“I’m sorry.” he said sincerely, swallowing thickly, “I’m sorry I choked you, I-” 

“You’re an asshole .” she said irritably, still pacing, full of pent up anger at him. 

“I am worse, so much worse.” he said quietly. 

Dom stopped pacing, glared at him and then shook her head again, 

“What the hell happened, the last time I saw you, you were different, doing better, you were...” she trailed off, Wade watching as she frowned like she was remembering something and then she sighed and looked at him again, slightly less angry, “The person you were seeing, did it, did he-” another sigh as she absently rubbed a hand over her throat, “your relationship, it ended?”  

Ah, she remembered him saying he might end up being broken up with.  

“Worse than ended.” Wade breathed out, in so much pain. The emotional always compounded the physical, hurting deeper and more severely than any cancer or weapon could.  

Dom’s eyes widened, 

“Did something happen to him?” she blinked and frowned, absently touching her throat again, “Wade, did you hurt him-” 

“Fuck no, never .” he breathed out in a harsh whisper, still lying useless on the floor, “I’d never...” he trailed off, but his tone had all the conviction needed to be sincere, and he watched the tension leave her body. But he had to admit, “But I...I made him hurt, because I’m a coward, I, I let him down.” voice starting to get a little tight, sadness and misery trumping his anger. Then he shook his head, rolling it side to side on the floor, “He’s too good for me anyway, it’s better this way.” he said quietly, the words coming out raspy, less convincing than before when he’d been saying them.  

He really wanted to shoot himself again. How far had Dom tossed that shotgun?  

He moved to get up, intending to head back to his suicide room. He looked to the side to locate the gun as he got to his feet, and with Dom watching, he took a step to pick up the gun, 

“Sorry again, about choking you.” he said to her without looking as he started to walk back to the hallway, “You should go, and don’t come ba-hey!” he turned to glare at her after she’d grabbed the shotgun out of his hand. She just glared right back, tossing the gun further away that time, in the direction of the overturned sofa, 

“Enough of this blowing your brains out bullshit.” she scolded him. He continued to glare at her, but there was no more heat in his anger, “You did this same suicide shit after Vanessa, right? Weasel told me.” she asked directly, and he looked away from her, feeling sick all over again at having that brought up. Why was she mention-, “But Vanessa died , Wade.” Dom said pointedly, “So you couldn’t change anything, you couldn’t do anything.” Frowning at her words, Wade turned away and walked into the hall anyway. Dom was brave enough to keep following him, “This guy, the one you were seeing, he’s not dead. You can make it right, Wade.” she sighed a bit loudly, “Or you can at least apologize to him for whatever you did. That’s worth something, right?” she sounded like she thought so.  

But nothing felt like it was worth anything to him right then...  

And he’d intended to ignore her, to go inside his suicide room and close the door on her, but when he reached the room, after walking past the threshold he paused inside and stared at the door. Seeing it again reminded him that it was broken, specifically around the lock area, like she’d kicked it in. So, he couldn’t close it at all. Shit.  

“What was it? What happened?” she was standing not far behind him, she sounded like she was expecting whatever answer he’d give, “Did you lie about what you look like? Or, you didn’t tell him anything and he found out?” boy oh boy, was she wrong, “Maybe he was just a super chaser, Wade.” her tone changed, she sounded sympathetic, like she’d had some experience with that, “You know the type, they just want to be with someone who’s super, they want to know what it’s like, if it’s different somehow. But maybe this guy you were with wasn’t expecting you to loo-” 

“Shut the fuck up!” he snapped, angry all over again as he kicked the broken door so it came off the top hinges completely. He felt so volatile as it was, and all the shit she kept talking about how he looked just reminded him that that was not the fucking issue. The one thing that was always usually the problem for everyone, was not the problem for Peter.  

Peter was fucking perfect. Dom had no idea what she was saying!  

His anger fluctuated in the silence that followed, leaving as quickly as it had come on, but he made sure to take in a breath before he turned to face her where she’d stopped just outside the door. 

“Don’t you fucking say shit about him,” he warned her, tone fairly abrasive but still calm enough, “you have no fucking idea how perfect he is, how he...he wouldn’t, he didn’t , he-” he stared into Dom’s patiently expectant face, then he just admitted it, “He knew, he knew my skin was fucked up, I told him.” he breathed out, voice stressed, “I let him see. He’d seen me with my mask rolled up, seen my hands bare,” he raised his gloveless hands absently, “my...hands and even my arms. He knew.” Wade swallowed sorely, shaking his head, “But he, I,” he clenched his teeth, “he wanted me to take my mask off, like, completely and I, I...” he shook his head again, trailing off, dropping his hands.  

Domino’s reaction was to look very baffled and surprised, 

“Wait, wait.” she paused and they stared at another for a few seconds before she asked, “So, just to be clear, he knew what you looked like and he was still dating you?” and then she looked a bit awkward when she specified, “Like, properly dating you, in a physical sense? He was okay with your skin, physically?” Wade just waited, annoyed, as she seemed to have trouble finding the words, “Like, were you guys, like, actually...” she trailed off, giving up instead to raise her eyebrows at him with a ‘you know what I mean’ look.   

Wade could only say, 

“Jesus Christ.” because he’d never thought he’d be having this sort of conversation with Domino of all people. But then, Dom and him had always been honest and straightforward with each other, and he had no dignity left to lose, so he supposed he might as well just tell her what she wanted to know. “Yes, for fucks sake, we were physically intimate a few times. As in, he was okay being with me, sexually.” Dom made a strange face that he couldn’t read, but he couldn’t help taking it the wrong way, “I know it’s really hard to believe, but we were, and he was fine with me. Better than fine. I think he-” his throat closed up a little, “I think he actually wante-” he couldn’t finish the sentence. Throat too tense. And fuck. It was true. Peter was so perfect, so accepting, so amazing.   

God, he was such a fuck up!   

In a moment of anger he couldn’t control, Wade grabbed the leaning door with one hand and slammed his fist clean through the wood. Then pulled back and did it again in a different spot, sending wood chunks and splinters flying. He’d really just needed to hit something.  

Dom just watched him, barely reacted besides leaning away a bit and blinking. She seemed more interested in what he’d told her. So when he was done, just holding the still half hinged door and breathing heavily as he glared at the holes he’s made, she continued the conversation, 

“So, this guy was fine with what you looked like. He was even sleeping with you, but you didn’t want to take your mask off to show him your face?” she sounded perplexed, she sounded very perplexed. Wade didn’t even bother to correct her about the ‘sleeping with him’ part, because the situation was so daft and he was such an idiot, the details didn’t even matter. 

“You make it sound like it should have been easy to just show him my face.” he said bitterly, half grimacing as he let go of the door. It barely stayed attached to the frame. 

She made a ‘hell yeah’ expression, 

“ Wade , you fucking idiot,” well, okay, tell it like it is, “if the guy was fine with your skin, if he was okay to be together with you, like, in all ways, in spite of what your skin is like,” she gave him an incredulous look, “do you really think he would have had an issue with your face?” 

“It’s not that simple.” he said, teeth clenching and unclenching. 

“Uh, yeah it is.” she blinked at him, expression sarcastic, “He obviously really liked you.” she gave him a pointed once over, “Someone would have to really like you, Wade.” she added.  

Right, always honest. That was Dom. And it might have been funny a few years ago and he’d have joked about it with her. But right then he just wanted to choke her again for her insulting words. 

He didn’t though, just clenched his jaw again and said, 

“My mask is the last, it’s the last barrier I have...” he didn’t say ‘to hide behind’ out aloud. His mask was expressive, but ultimately, it hid the pain in his eyes, it hid the truth of his low self-esteem and misery, of how pathetic and lonely and lost he was.  

Vanessa...it had been the same with her, he’d never wanted to show her his new, hideous face, but his hand had been forced when he’d revealed himself to her. And even then, it had been different, because she’d known him before, seen him before, and that had somehow made it less daunting in the months that followed after the reveal. Also, he hadn’t been so broken emotionally and mentally back then. So while it’d been hard, he’d still been able to joke about it with her, he’d been able hide his low self-esteem behind jokes and exaggerated stupid behaviour. She’d been used to him already anyway, so it hadn’t seemed too odd to her.  

But he was different now. His psyche wasn’t the same. He didn’t think he could hide it from Peter, he didn’t think Peter wouldn’t see through the lie. Pity him for it. Especially when things would inevitably get worse with his skin. At that point, the pity would start to feel humiliating...  

“But you were with Vanessa,” Dom’s voice made him blink out of his sinking thoughts, “she saw your face and she was fine with you, right?” Dom pointed out the obvious. Nobody could understand the difference though, and Wade just shook his head, turned away to stare at the terrible state of his suicide room, 

“It was different,” he made a noise of frustration and walked a few tense paces away before turning back to face Dom, but not look at her, “You won’t get it, it’s different with people who saw me before this,” he gestured to his face, “I feel like they get it, like they see me properly, because they’ve seen me when I was, I was...” he trailed off, finding his own train of thought useless and his excuse sounding very weak. Especially because Peter had admitted to knowing what he looked like before. And that somehow felt worse! He still had no idea how-  

“Well, that’s just bullshit.” Dom said matter of factly, tilting her head, “I hate to break it to you, Wade, but I’ve seen what you looked like before.” Wade stiffened, eyes shifting to lock on hers. She cocked an eyebrow, “And it hasn’t had much impact on me knowing what you look like now.” he stared at her, processing. “I mean, I guess I felt kind of sympathetic at first, because going from how you looked before, to,” she vaguely gestured at him, “this, can’t have been easy. I get that. But knowing doesn’t really change anything about how I see you.” she stopped then, and seemed to consider what she’d just said.  

Wade continued to stare at her, but his mind was working, focused on something else, one notable thing. See, when Peter had said he knew what he’d looked like before, it had been shocking and confusing, but he’d assumed maybe it was because of the Avenger thing. He’d assumed that maybe S.H.I.E.L.D had some pictures of him from his military days or some shit.  

But Dom had seen him too? That made no sense.  

He blinked once quickly, eyes fixed on Dom, 

“There are no pictures of me from before.” he said quite calmly, even though he could feel himself becoming more and more tense, getting angry again, “I destroyed all that shit, years ago, when I blew up my apartment after Vanessa died.” he admitted frankly, “So, where the fuck have you seen me?” he took two steps closer. 

Dom had stood up straighter and she was frowning now, but she stood her ground and folded her arms over her chest as if daring him to try to touch her again. She answered honestly though, 
“There’s a photo of you and Vanessa on Instagram.”  

Wade blinked a few times, then once more, hard, before shaking his head to clear it. Because, what? He couldn’t even, that was... what ? 

“ What? On Instagram? What the fuck?” he breathed out, totally baffled. And Dom looked like she was about to say something, but he cut her off with, “Show me.” and he raised a hand, made grabby fingers for her to hand over her phone as he walked to stand right in front of her, “Show me the picture.”  

Now she seemed uncertain, hesitant. 

“Uh, why?” she gave him a squinty look, “You look like you’re getting angry, I don’t wan-” 

“Show.Me.The.Fucking.Picture.” he growled his demand right in her face and she closed her mouth, looking very annoyed. But instead of leaving it up to her luck that he wouldn’t forcefully take the phone from her, she sighed and reached into her back pocket for the device. Since she was cooperating, he made himself wait impatiently as she unlocked her phone and went into the app, and he watched upside as she went into her followers and searched W E A-  

He grabbed the phone.  

“Jesus, Wade. Calm down.” she said immediately, but he already had the phone, had already clicked into weaselneverwins69 and he was scrolling through the photos until he came to it. Posted in plain sight. Just there, for all the world to see. Weasel’s god damned profile wasn’t even set to private! Wade clicked on the post, saw that it was a secondary photo, taken of the original polaroid...the one Weasel had asked to keep from long ago, from when Wade had first been diagnosed with cancer.  

How the fuck did Weasel still have that fucking picture!?  

“He saw this.” Wade said out aloud, eyes wide and body tense as he stared at the photo of himself and Vanessa from so many years ago.  

“What? He who? Weasel?” Dom asked, coming closer to stand next to him and look at the picture. 
“Peter.” he said with a tense exhale, “Before he left here the other night, he told me he’d already seen what I looked like.” he shook his head, “This must be where he saw me.” 

Dom nodded, shrugged facially, 

“Makes sense. Pretty much everyone is on social media, he probably has Instagram and your name is in the tags.” she pointed beneath the caption to where his name was, “All your guy would have to do is search your name and this would come up somewhere in the results.” 

“‘When you looked alive’.” Wade read the caption, unblinking, “Hashtag Wade Wilson.”  

“Yeah. This is probably the only picture of you out there though, I’ve never seen any other.” she reached for her phone then, and Wade let her take it from him.  

He was fucking seething . Weasel had no fucking right! It didn’t matter that Wade had given him that photo, he had no right to put Wade’s former face out there so publicly!  

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Wade breathed out, and then he was moving, out of the room, down the hallway,  

“Wade!” through the living room, yanking the door open and striding into the building hallway, “Wade, wait, you need to calm the fuh-huh?” Dom cut herself off, sounding confused from somewhere behind him, when Wade opened the door to next apartment, 702, and went inside.  

Yes, he owned two other apartments in the building, which amounted to the entire top floor of the apartment building. 703, 702 and 701.  

Wade strode into the clean –unused and paint fumed- apartment, which had almost exactly the same layout as his other, except with minimal and basic furniture and a lot of unpacked boxes everywhere filled with supplies. He headed straight through to the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him, starting to strip his clothes off, and pausing only to reach into the shower stall to open the mixer faucet before undressing completely. 

“You own this apartment too?” Dom asked from outside the bathroom door.  

He didn’t answer, instead he prepared to get in the shower. The apartment was stocked with basics in each room for times just like right then, but nothing was unpacked since he had never used the apartment before. So he had to rip open several different delivery boxes to find his different bulk purchases of hygiene products. And with no idea of why he’d ordered so many five liters of ‘pink pearl’ bodywash, Wade grabbed what he needed and got into the shower, proceeding to clean himself of several days' worth of blood, sweat and death grossness.  

Dom didn’t say anything else while he was showering. She also stayed away and said nothing even when she must have heard him smash the bathroom mirror. He’d done it right before he brushed his teeth, since seeing his mismatched eyes only pissed him off. When he was eventually done in the bathroom, he opened the door and walked out, stalking straight toward the bedroom. He intended to grab a pair of underwear and then head back to the other apartment for clothes, because he only kept very few bare clothing necessities in that apartment.   

When he walked into the bedroom though, he wasn’t expecting to see Dom, and she wasn’t expecting to see him...wet and buck naked. 

“What the fuck!?” he shouted, backstepping and half turning to hide his crotch at the same time as she shouted, 

“Fuck! Wade, what the hell!?” turning to the side as well to look away. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here!?” he yelled. He hadn’t been totally naked in front of anyone, besides Vanessa, since his mutation –fucking Francis didn’t count!-, and he felt really uncomfortable. 

“I was looking around and saw you had no clothes in this place!” she yelled back, keeping her head turned away as she pointed to the bed where there was a bunched-up pile of clothes, “So, I went to get you clothes from your other apartment, hoping to avoid this.” she waved a hand at him, more or less, “Why aren’t you at least wearing a towel!?” she yell-asked, tone irritated.  

Wade half rolled his eyes, also feeling irritated. Trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling of being naked around another person, he made sure Dom wasn’t looking before he walked toward the built in wardrobes where he kept some underwear and guns. You know, bare necessities. 

“I don’t keep towels here either.” he informed her stiffly, glancing over again to make sure she still wasn’t looking before he pulled two doors open. 

“Why not!?” she sounded baffled. 

“Because I own the whole top fucking floor and I live alone, Dom!” he said it like she was an idiot, “The fuck would I need a towel for?” he asked rhetorically, then added, “I wasn’t expecting you to be waiting in my bedroom , you absolute pervert .” he used a scandalous voice at the end, ripping open a box on top of a triple stack.  

And yeah, he was still naked and she was right there, but she wasn’t looking and it was fun to annoy her.  

Sure enough, his last comment pressed her buttons, and she turned to look at him just as he’d found underwear and was about to pull on the plain white boxer-briefs, 

“The chances of me perving over you are non-fucking existent.” she informed him flatly and honestly, and she glanced down as if to make a point, making a face before looking away.  

But theeeeen, she looked again, and Wade, who’d been frozen in shock after she’d first turned, gasped loudly at her doubletake, to which Domino grimaced and closed her eyes, appearing as if she was deeply regretting her choice to look again even before Wade said, 

“You just checked out my dick!” and despite everything, he wanted to burst out laughing. But he was more focused on quickly putting on the underwear and getting covered up.  

Domino had finished her regretful moment of silence and she sighed and shrugged, 

“Last time I saw it, it was the size of my pinky finger.” she raised a hand up and wiggled said finger, “I wasn’t sure there’d be much difference.” she hid her embarrassment by mocking him, which was funny! 

“Heh, pervert.” Wade said in an amused scandalous voice, already having grabbed and pulled on the jeans she’d brought. Dom just rolled her eyes, but said nothing else as he finished dressing, pulling on the ugly old Hawaiian button up, “Why would you choose this shirt?” it wasn’t even one of the nicer shirts he had, like the one with the pineapples or attractive sunsets. 

“Oh, shut up, you used to wear those all the time.” she pointed out, and she must have noticed out of her peripheral that he was dressed because she turned to look at him again, “At least you’re not naked anymore.” she added. 

Wade raised his brow at her, 

“Don’t judge me, I went through a phase.” he said lightly, plucking at the faded green and orange shirt he was wearing, before giving her a pointed look, “and you’re the one who crotch-checked me, Neena.” he turned back to the wardrobe and moved aside a box to open a different one, filled with some off brand wholesale trainers, and with his back to her, he had to add, “But at least now you know it’s much more than a sip.”   

He imagined she was rolling her eyes, faking a gag, or giving him the finger. It made him smirk.  

He was still feeling a bit uncomfortable about her seeing him naked, but now he mostly felt amused, which was a notable difference for him. Before very recently, someone invading his privacy, even unintentionally, would have made him choose violence. But how he presently felt was not dissimilar to how he’d been before the blip. He hadn’t always covered up back then, not like he did now, and he’d never been embarrassed if someone he knew saw him in a state of undress, whether it was their fault or his.  

So, his reaction to Dom was similar but still different. Because he was different. An improvement though, he supposed. He was in a weird place emotionally over all, especially after all the resets of the last few days, and as he haphazardly tied the laces on the sneakers, he found himself wondering whether he’d been looking at the issue of his face, and Peter seeing him, all wrong.  

How long was he going to be afraid of his own reflection? Especially when the person who wanted to be with him, who was so patient and understanding and accepting, was also so okay with what skin he’d come into contact with? And Peter was not stupid, he knew it was cancer, so he probably wouldn’t be shocked or horrified to find out it could occasionally get worse.  

Wade suddenly felt like he was underestimating Peter, underestimating his feelings and understanding and just everything that was so fucking good about him. All Peter asked for was his trust...he had to stop being such a pussy!  

Peter, Spider-Man, was a once in a lifetime dream come true...if he had a chance, any chance, he had to take it, right?? Peter wanted to see him, so he should let Peter see him, completely, and then he’d just have to be upfront and honest and deal with whatever came after. He’d had nothing left to lose besides Peter, and he lost him anyway, so what was the point of holding on to hiding his fucking face?  

Wade’s mind was racing all of a sudden, his emotions fluctuating; he was definitely in a weird emotional space. He’d been looking at the issue all wrong and now he’d fucked up and he didn’t know if he could make it right but he...he could try, and he wanted to, he, he...- well, firstly, he still wanted to strangle Weasel. He knew that much at least, and maybe it would be better if he got that out of the way before he focused on anything else.  

So, after reaching into the wardrobe one final time for a handgun sitting on an empty shelf, he checked that it was loaded –of course it was, there were always loaded weapons in any place he owned- before putting it into the back of his jeans, and then he turned to leave the room. 

He still didn’t have a proper mask though. Fuck. 

“I’ll have to go to a safehouse...” he said mostly to himself as he walked out into the passage. 

“For what?” Dom followed. “Wade, you know Weasel didn’t post that picture for any bad reason.” she tried to reason with him, walking a short distance behind him as he left 702 and walked back to 703, needing a hoodie and something to cover at least half of his face.  

He ignored her and went into 703. She didn’t follow him all the way into the apartment, but when he reemerged three minutes later with a hoodie and surgical mask on, his phone and a fold of cash on him, she was waiting by the door, patiently impatient, and she continued to follow him when he walked out to head toward the elevators. 

He glanced at her once he stopped at the elevator, pressing the button too many times, 

“You headed home?” he asked, not subtle at all in trying to get rid of her. 

She shook her head, 

“Nope, I’m going with you to make sure you don’t do anything too bad to Weasel.” 

Too bad? 

“Does that mean I can do something minorly bad?” he asked curiously. 

“I’m not your keeper, Wade. Or Weasel’s.” she said with a hiked eyebrow and a shrug.  

Yeah, Wade had always liked her. She’d step in if he tried to kill Weasel, probably, but she wasn’t going to get involved to any major extent. Dom had her own lines, X-woman or not, she knew some things had to be settled a certain way and that everything wasn’t black and white. 

Peter seemed to get that too, actually. 

Maybe it just depended on what people went through in their lives, whether or not they understood that sometimes shit had to get ugly before it got better.  

DING  

The elevator arrived and they both got in.

With Dom’s luck, getting a cab was easy and they ended up at one of his nearest safehouses ten minutes later, where Wade was able to suit up properly and –finally- put on a fucking mask. He was hyperaware of his mismatched eyes after seeing them in the mirror briefly earlier and he wanted them covered up.  

It hadn’t happened in a long time.  

In the past, during the blip, when he’d reset more often, whenever his eyes got mismatched, he’d just give himself as many head wounds as it took to get them right again. Or if they both ended up white, or blue or whatever, he’d leave them that way. It was somehow less weird if they were at least matching, you know?  

But now that Dom had seen it, and now that he was...tentatively, thinking about finding Peter and groveling and actually taking his mask off willingly –holy fuck it was tentative-, he needed his eyes to be back to normal, as in brown. Because that was his original eye colour...at least in the movies.  

Once he was ready, they left the safehouse together.

And one more fifteen-minute cab ride later, they arrived at Weasel’s apartment in Hunt’s Point.

“Open the fucking door, Weasel.” Wade growled into the buzzer system of Weasel’s apartment building. 

“First tell me why you’re angry.” Weasel sounded both annoyed and worried. 

“I’ll tell you when I have my fucking hands around your neck.” 

“That’s a terrible incentive for me to open the door.”   

Wade slammed a fist against the glass part of the wooden lobby doors and the glass cracked, 

“I’m only asking you to be nice, Weasel, this fucking door can’t keep me out and you know it. And if I end up having to break my way inside, I’m gonna’ shove my taser up your as-” 

“Weasel, just open the damned door.” Domino spoke up from just behind Wade, voice annoyed and firm as she returned the masked glare Wade turned to give her. 

“Dom?” Weasel asked, sounding confused and relieved. 

“Yeah.” she responded, “It’s me.” 

“Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on,” Weasel asked , “and please don’t let him break the door, I’ll end up having to pay for it and I really can’t afford it.”  

“We can talk inside, you should open the door.” she advised, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“But-”  

“Open the fucking door!” Wade punched the glass again with the side of his fist and the doors rocked on their frames, some pieces of glass falling out. 

“...Jesus, fine.”   

BZZZZ  

The door unlocked and Wade pulled it open harshly, causing more glass to fall out, which he walked over, enjoying the satisfying crunch of it under his boots. Dom followed with much less fanfare.  

Inside they discovered that Weasel’s shitty building had no elevator, so they took the stairs.  

On the second flight, as they walked almost step in step, she asked, 

“So, do you even still need that favour?” 

Wade’s mask eyes widened as he remembered that yes, he did need that favour, 

“Yeah, actually. Fuck, I almost forgot about it.” he shot her a grateful look and she raised her chin, 

“What is it?” they were on the third flight of stairs. 

“You seen the news lately? There’s some asshole who’s using some kind of blue energy and destroying shit in the city, some people even ended up dead.” he informed her, and he knew because the morning after the second sighting, while Peter had been asleep, he had ended up watching the footage of Peter from that night, and reading up on what happened. 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I saw something about it, but we’ve been kind of busy with stuff happening outside of New York lately.” they’d reached the third floor and turned to walk down the shabby and dimly lit passage, “There are so many supers in New York, we try to stay out of it, too much politics.” she rolled her eyes. 

“Amen, sister. Buuuut turns out he’s a mutant, so you guys should get involved.” 

She seemed surprised, turning her head to look up at him as they neared Weasel’s apartment door, 

“Oh, yeah, how do you know?” 

Wade hesitated, but figured if he just kept the connection vague and distant it’d be fine, 

“I kind of ran into Spider-Man, who’s been dealing with him,” Dom raised her eyebrows, looking only slightly surprised, “he mentioned it’s a mutant, he got some kind of DNA sample during their last fight, and you know, Avenger’s don’t have much dealings with mutants, so I said I’d see if I could help him out.”  

Dom looked amused as they came to stop at Weasel’s door, 

“Wow, this guy you’re involved with must really be something,” Wade internally panicked, there was no way she could have connected those dots! “he’s even got you trying to help out heroes. You hate heroes.” she was smiling, looking amused but impressed. 
Wade laughed awkwardly as he knocked on Weasel’s door calmly, 

“Yeah, he’s amazeballs.” he said honestly, panic settling a bit. 

“But then, you always did like Spider-Man, so maybe it’s not surprising you’d be willing to help him.” 

More awkward laughter from Wade, 

“Yeeeeeah, Spidey’s a national treasure.” he partially whispered.  

Thankfully, Weasel interrupted,  

“Does Wade have a gun?!” he asked from the other side of the door and they both looked at the very easily breakable wood. Dom rolled her eyes and looked at Wade as she spoke to Weasel, 

“Of course he does, probably, like, four,” Wade raised a hand with all five fingers up, mask eyes becoming moon crescents, “but he promises not to use any weapons at all.” she brought a hand up and pulled his hand down, then waved a finger at him and spoke more quietly, “No weapons. Try to stay calm, don’t overdo it. Think about your boyfriend.” 

Wade pouted through the mask, 

“That’s not fair.” using Peter against him. 

“You say he’s too good for you, but you want to get him back, right?” she asked him pointedly and he just narrowed his eyes at her, “You have to be better, Wade.” she smiled up at him and it was probably because those words were exactly what he’d been telling himself that they hit him so hard. 

The sound of the door unlocking could be heard as they stared at each other and Wade eventually gave in, leaning his head back and groaning irritably, 

“Fiiiiine.” just when the door opened.  

Wade slammed the door open fully immediately and grabbed Weasel by his collar before the man could even take a step back, shoving him inside and then dragging him over to push him up against the wall and lift him off the ground. 

“What the fuck, Wade!” Weasel shouted, holding onto Wade’s forearms, shoe tips scraping the floor. 

“Wade, calm down.” Dom said as she followed inside and closed the door calmly. 

“You posted a picture of me and Vanessa on Instagram!” Wade growled into Weasel’s face. His glasses were askew on his nose and he looked worried and confused, 

“Wha- Jesus fuck! Is that what you’re pissed about?” 

Wade pulled him forward just to slam him against the wall again and Weasel cursed when his head hit the wall, 

“You had no fucking right!” 

“What the fuck is the big deal!? It was a great picture! A memory of a better time,” Weasel was scared, it was evident in his face, but he still glared at Wade, “a time before you turned into a raging asshole.” 

Wade held him up with one hand and reached for his gun, 

“Wade!” Dom appeared beside him, “ No weapons, stay calm! He’ll delete the picture, right Weasel?” she asked with a pointed look at Weasel. 

“I would have fucking deleted it if he’d just fucking asked me to! Jesus Christ!” he was still trying to touch his toes to the ground. Wade grabbed the other side of Weasel’s collar again, lifted him higher, 

“It’s too late, Peter’s already seen it.” he was speaking through clenched teeth, angry all over again just thinking about it. 

“Who the fuck is Peter!?” Weasel was very confused. 

“It’s a guy Wade is dating.” Dom informed. 

“ Was dating.” Wade growled, clenching his hands in Weasel’s collar and narrowing his eyes, 

“Okay, was, whatever,” Dom sounded exasperated, looking from Wade back to Weasel, “the point is, Wade’s appearance is an issue between them and he saw the picture on social media and it’s just complicating things.”  

“How the fuck was I supposed to know? Christ, fine, I’ll delete it! I don’t even care!” he frowned down at Wade. 

“Okay, of course he didn’t know, he’ll delete it, let him go so he can do it.” Dom said from Wade’s side. 

Wade held on for a few seconds longer, shoved Weasel one more time hard against the wall and then let him go, turning to walk away and pace, trying to walk off his sudden onset of anger. Weasel landed on his feet easily, but leaned heavily against the wall as he quickly reached for his phone in his back pocket, tapping into it as silence fell in the room. 

After a moment he held the phone up, screen visible to Wade and Dom, 

“Okay, it’s deleted, you happy now?” 

“Shut up, dumbass.” Dom warned him before Wade could get mad again, and she took his phone, looked at it and then gave it back to him, 

“It’s deleted, Wade, that’s all he could do. The rest is up to you.” 

“What’s the rest?” Weasel asked, pulling his T-shirt and shirt collars right as he stood up properly. 

Dom looked at him, 

“Wade doesn’t want it to be over, so now he has to try and make it right.” she said, sounding pleasant and positive about it. 

“Huh.” Weasel was looking at him, Wade could feel it as he kept pacing in the small, awful space of Weasel’s one bedroom flat, “This guy has some issue with how you look, the before versus the after? What’s the point of chasing after him?” Weasel sounded genuinely confused. 

“That’s not the problem.” Dom said, and Wade was glad she didn’t elaborate, because fuck Weasel. She changed the subject though, “You don’t seem surprised to find out it’s a guy.” and, okay, he wasn’t sure he preferred the new conversational direction. Weasel snorted, 

“You don’t know Wade as well as I do.” he responded, sounding quite recovered and even a little smarmy. Typical Weasel. 

“Oh, okay. So, not the first guy?” Dom sounded curious. 

Wade had taken his phone out of his pouch, found it completely dead, and he was presently plugging it on to charge at Weasel’s burner phone set up, where there were many phones and many cables laid out on a table against one of the walls, all the while trying to ignore their asinine conversation. 

“Heh, back when he was single and attractive,” Weasel was saying, “he had sex more than some of the working girls in the bar, and he was really open minded.” 

“That’s an exaggeration.” Wade muttered from where he was holding his phone with a charger plugged into it, waiting for it to be able to start up.  

And it was actually an exaggeration. Sure, he’d been open minded and he’d flirted a shit ton and fooled around with a fair number of guys, mostly with hands stuff and a few incidences of oral sex. But actual sex-sex with guys? Like, his dick in their ass? Nah, not that many. He could count them on one hand. Vanessa had been the one to really ‘open up his mind’ about sex, but after her, well, you know the story...  

“That sounds like a sure-fire way to catch something.” Dom made a face. 

Wade kept his focus on his phone, which was being so laggy! 

“Did you see the picture?” Weasel asked her, raising his phone in gesture of it, “God, I hated how good looking he was. He dressed so badly too, and it didn’t even matter. People still wanted to sleep with him.” Wade’s eyebrow twitched.  

What the fuck? There hadn’t been anything wrong with his baggy tank shirts and his beloved red shearling fur coat! And jeans and sneakers worked so well with everything! Also, why the fuck did he have the urge to make a joke right then!? 

“I saw the picture.” Dom said, again not offering any elaboration on her opinion. 

“Would you have done him?” Weasel had a sleazy smirk on his face and Wade’s eye twitched again. 

“I’m not answering that.” Dom said flatly. 

“That doesn’t sound like a no-” 

“I also have a gun, Weasel.” 

Weasel cleared his throat and didn’t finish that particular comment, but he couldn’t keep the sleazy smile off his face, until something else occurred to him and he frowned, 

“You saw the picture? How come you don’t follow me on Instagram?”  

Dom rolled her eyes and Wade, finally tapping his way into his phone, snapped in irritation, 

“Would you shut the fuck up! I’m trying to think of a plan to get Peter back.” he really wanted to think, honestly. But their familiar, stupid back and forth banter was super distracting.  

Ultimately though, he had no messages from Peter. He wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt.  

“If the plan you come up with, is going to take two years like it did with Vanessa, then I’m gonna’ opt out.” Weasel deadpanned as he walked away from the wall, “You talked about killing Francis so often I was having dreams and nightmares about him and his accent  before I ever even had the displeasure of meeting him.” he passed Wade and went over to stop at his desk, where he flopped down into his computer chair. The majority of his money went into the multiscreen computer system set up he had, along with a bunch of other devices and tech scattered around the rundown apartment.  

Wade grimaced at his discouraging comment, wanting to actually strangle him that time. And Dom didn’t help when she shrugged and said, 

“I really hate to, but I kind of have to agree with Weasel on this one, Wade.” he looked at her, watched her slip her hands into the pockets of her leather pants, “You should just go right to him and talk. You shouldn’t drag it out. It’s already been almost a week.” 

Yeah, he fucking knew that, and he knew the more time passed the worse his chances would get.  

Whatever mystery Peter had been attracted to in him was long gone, he wasn’t going to wait around. And that was not even counting the fact that he could meet someone literally anytime, and there was still that picture of his ex on his wall. If Peter really wanted to, he had options. Better options than himself for sure... 

“Fuck, I should just leave him alone. I’m so fucked up.” he said the same old words he’d said a thousand times about Vanessa, the same logic he’d always run through his mind. He felt like it still made sense, still applied. Just stay away. Just keep existing alone. It was easier, it was less messy. There were no expectations of him and at the end of the day, he could eat a bullet and go blank for several hours.  

It'd worked for a long time. Five years and some extra. It-  

“No, Wade, you should call him, meet up with him, and talk to him.” Dom said. 

“I agree with, Dom.” Weasel piped up, “I mean, it’s good that you’re trying again with someone, Wade. After Vanessa, you were a wreck.” he commented, having been close enough to the situation at the time that he’d seen Wade at his lowest. Wade felt his chest get tight with his complicated emotions again, because right then he was a wreck too. Peter leaving him had messed him up. “I’m still confused about what the fuck is even going on, but I still think it’s good.” Weasel added. 

Dom raised her eyebrow, 

“I know what’s going on, and I’m still confused. Honestly, I think Wade is just being a dumbass.” Wade groaned. Weasel nodded as if agreeing to that point just made all the sense in the world. “Anyway, I just came along to make sure Wade didn’t hospitalize you.” Dom changed the subject again, throwing out a pleasant fake smile at Weasel before she turned toward the door, “I have to go, I have actual important things to do. I’ll look into that favour you asked me about, Wade.” she paused to look at him seriously, “But this time, if you don’t pick up your phone when I call, I’m not coming looking for you.” and it sounded mean, but Wade got what she was saying.  

Stay alive, stay contactable, stay on the no suicide wagon. Shit, that was going to be difficult.  

“You guys have been discussing favours? What the hell, did I miss some important character development story arc?” Weasel complained. They both ignored him. 

Wade just hesitantly nodded at her and then she nodded back and turned, hand on the door handle, but she stopped again and sighed, shoulders sagging before she looked at him again, 

“And look, your skin does take some getting used to, but it’s not impossible to get used to.” and she sounded a bit like she was just trying to placate him, but Wade got the feeling she was not being totally insincere, like maybe she was saying it from someone’s perspective other than her own.  

From Peter’s possible perspective.  

He didn’t even get to say anything in response, because Weasel said, 

“I knew it, you’d so have done him back when he was hot.” 

Wade turned to look at him like ‘ what the fuck is wrong with you can’t you see we’re having a moment ’, but Dom didn’t miss a beat, giving Weasel the finger and tilting her head with a fake smile, then she turned and opened the door, 

“Bye lose-.”   

The apartment door buzzer cut her off, and they all froze for a second, before exchanging glances.  

Then, 

“Weasel? Are you home. I really need your help.” they were all surprised to hear Dopinder’s voice. Wade immediately looked at Weasel and pointed an instructive finger from him to the door buzzer intercom on the wall, 

“Fucking answer him.” he said firmly. 

Weasel made a face but he was already getting up and walking toward the door, Dopinder going on in the background, 

“ I can’t go home. Some very unpleasant, and definitely criminal people, kidnapped me a few weeks ago ,” Weasel paused with his finger above the intercom talk button, and all of their eyes widened as they listened, “ they’re looking for DP and wanted me to contact him, or tell them where they could find him. But I have no contact and I have no idea where he is, so I only told them some of the places I remembered from before the blip. I managed to get away from them tonight, but they know where I l- …" Dopinder went on, but Wade yelled over his voice, 

“Open the fucking door!” at Weasel, so no one heard whatever else Dopinder said, and Weasel muttered ‘fuck okay’ as he pressed the button to open the door downstairs instead of the talk button. Dom was standing right there, and she pulled the apartment door properly open just when Weasel opened the downstairs door.  

Her and Weasel both took absent steps back from the door as they waited...and Wade, Wade stood still, tense and pissed all over again for many new reasons. He hadn’t seen Dopinder since before the blip, which hadn’t bothered him before. But since all of his feelings were resurfacing, he felt like a total rat bastard for never getting in touch with Dopinder, or at least giving him a way to reach him, and now Dopinder had been kidnapped fucking weeks ago because of him!  

Shit, that-...but wait, why didn’t Dopinder have a way of contacting him? He was there at Weasel’s apartment, so he and Weasel were in communication, so Weasel could have given Dopinder a way to contact him. What the hell? Also, that meant it wasn’t Weasel who’d told those two super powered assholes where to find him, because Dopinder knew about at least ten of Wade’s safehouses, not just in NY.   

Fuck. It was really frustrating being pissed at Weasel one minute and then having a reason to not be pissed again in the next!  

Dopinder finally came into view in the doorway and of course, the first thing Wade noticed was that his one eye was swollen shut, and how beaten up he was, and the blood on the leg of his jeans... 

The first thing Dopinder noticed was Wade. 

“Oh my God, DP.” and he smiled, lip splitting and teeth a little bloody and Wade was fucking furious because Dopinder was as fragile as a potato chip, and he was never supposed to get beaten up, at least not because of Wade. He was approaching Wade now, limping, and then he was hugging Wade and that was...super, super fucking weird. They’d never hugged before.  

His skin only crawled a little at least, much less than it had back when Dom had hugged him that one time after the blip. It obviously had to do with the fact that his feelings were being weird. He was somehow becoming more susceptible to contact from other humans again. Yeesh. 

“Jesus Christ, Dopinder.” he didn’t hug the guy back though, and he shook the hug off as gently as he could in order to hold the cab driver’s bony shoulders and look at him, 

“It’s so good to see you, DP.” did Dopinder have tears in his eyes?  

“What the fuck happened to you?” 

“I tried getting in contact with you through Weasel so many times but he wouldn’t tell me your number or where to find you.” 

“What the fuck ?” more angrily now, Wade looked at Weasel. 

“Oh, boy.” Domino sighed and closed her eyes, taking another moment of silence for her regrets of ever getting involved. 

“Okay, that sounds really bad out of context.” Weasel defended, eyes a bit wide, hands coming up as if in surrender as he took a step back.  

“You said he was dangerous and I should stay away from him.” Dopinder blinked –not so innocently- from Wade to Weasel and back. Yeah, little shit was pissed at Weasel and was trying to get him into trouble. Man, Wade was starting to realize he might have actually missed his little dysfunctional family. Wade let go of Dopinder’s shoulders and turned to face Weasel and Dom said, 

“I already saved your ass once today, not doing it again.” throwing Weasel a look. 

Weasel kept his hands up, 

“Wade, listen, I am scared that you’ll beat the shit out of me. I won’t even lie about that.” he stepped back when Wade took a step toward him. But typical Weasel, for all that he was chicken-shit, he wasn’t a coward, “But this is exactly why I told him to stay away from you.” he pointed at Wade to make his point, “Because you’re different. Because you’ve been violent with us since coming back. I have a scar from when you pistol whipped me months ago,” he pointed to his head and Dopinder frowned, “I also have a bump on the back of my head from where you slammed me into the wall ten minutes ago,” Dopinder frowned even more and looked at Wade, confused and sad, “And Dom’s voice is a little scratchy, like maybe those large hand bruises on her neck are really fresh...” he trailed off when Wade clenched his fists so tightly the leather squeaked.  

Silence settled in the room then, and Dopinder looked at Dom, who sighed and shook her head, but in that way that said ‘it’s complicated’, not ‘it’s not true’ and Dopinder swallowed audibly and looked sadly at Wade again, who was breathing tensely.  

Wade just stood there, thinking about what Weasel had just said, and Weasel went on, 

“I’m not trying to be an asshole about it,” he said warily, stepping closer to Dom, who just side eyeballed him, “but I was trying to prevent him from dealing with you, like this.” he waved a hand at Wade, who clenched and unclenched his jaw, furious at...himself.  

He was such a fuck up. He’d mistreated and abused his friends, the people he’d once called family. And one of them had ended up kidnapped and beaten because of him, and where had he been? Avoiding that friend. Oblivious.   

And then there was Peter, whose patience and acceptance Wade had been taking for granted. 

He really had to be better. Peter deserved better. His fam-...friends, also deserved better.  

“How did you get away?” Dom asked, looking at Dopinder curiously, clearly not being able to picture him fighting his way out. Dopinder smiled now, 

“Oh, I was very fortunate this evening. I never imagined I would be saved by an actual superhero, and while it was wonderful, it was also surprisingly stressful.” he admitted, indeed looking quite stressed. They all looked at him expectantly, “Tonight I had the thrilling and terrifying experience of being saved by Spider-Man himself. His suit is so shiny and he’s so skilled and very strong. I feel very privileged.” Dopinder made eye contact with all of them as he complimented the well-known super, but his gaze lingered just a little longer when he looked at Wade.  

And Wade had just been starting to calm himself down, but hearing Dopinder say Spider-Man had saved him, Peter had saved him, and knowing the whole mess involved the fucking gun that he’d been keeping from Peter, it quickly had his blood boiling again. Because he’d meant to keep Peter out of all the shit with that fucking weapon! Peter was not supposed to have to deal with contract killing mercs or shady criminal arms dealer organizations going after him. Wade had intended to deal with it alone . 

Peter had a life to live, people to be a hero to, an identity to hide!  

Now it was all going wrong. Everything was even more fucked up. He had to do something fas- 

His phone started to ring... 

Wade looked down at it where it was sitting on the table still connected to the charger. 

It was Peter.  

Peter was calling him.  

No prizes for guessing why Peter was calling him.  

It was too much to deal with right then, nothing was going right and quite suddenly his mental shit hit the ceiling. His temper, anger and stress and worry and irritation, all blew up and he grabbed the phone off the table, cable still attached, and pitched it full force in the direction of the nearest window.   

It went through the glass, breaking the pane, and fell out of sight, the default ring tone sounding weaker and distorted as it sailed down to the street below. The cable had snapped out, the plug too. 

Everyone was silent again.  

And Wade was so pissed off, so pissed off at himself for how he seemed to fuck everything up, that he needed a reason to get the fuck out before he broke everything in Weasel’s sad little apartment. So, turning on Weasel, he abruptly approached him, making the startled man backpedal right up against almost the exact spot he’d been earlier. Wade was saying, 

“If you were keeping him from me to protect him from me, then you should have been protecting him in general, keeping an eye on him.” 

“He’s not a child, Wade! And you’re the one who dragged him into the merc business, remember, am I supposed to babysit him?” 

Wade stopped right in front of Weasel and put his fist through Weasel’s flimsy wall, right beside the man’s head, making him jump and curse and try to lean away as Wade told him, 
“Check on him, you were supposed to check. On. Him. I used to check on him.” he ground out through clenched teeth, “And then I sent him to you for merc training, because I knew he’d be safe at the bar and nothing would actually fucking happen to him.” he admitted out loud.  

Silence fell again, a really awkward, tense silence. Dopinder hadn’t known that. Neither had Dom, and while Weasel ‘knew’, they’d never actually discussed it outright...that Wade had intentionally been keeping Dopinder from becoming a ‘merc’ for his own safety. 

He felt very exposed all of a sudden, with three sets of eyes on him. Weasel was looking right at him, surprised he’d just admitted that out aloud, and Dom, he could imagine, was no doubt looking surprised and pleased at finding out, while Dopinder probably had some sappy-sad, disappointed look on his face.  

Fuck. There was a time when admitting something like this would have been done in a joke and he would have laughed it off, even if they would all have known it was true. But admitting it right then, that he’d been so considerate and caring, made him feel like flaying his own fucking skin. 

The only reaction he could think of was to choose violence, which he was supposed to be controlling. But fuck that.   

He had his gun out with the muzzle pressed under Weasel’s chin before he even really realized it and the silence in the room was suddenly very different.  

Weasel’s eyes were wide with actual fear as Wade let out a slow breath, 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, are you listening?” he asked in a fake nice voice and Weasel nodded, “Good. First, you’re going to get Dopinder some medical care, because his breathing is shallow. He probably has a fractured rib and I’m pretty sure he was stabbed in his leg.” Weasel’s eyes darted over to Dopinder and back, before he nodded again. “Then you’re going to find out,” he pressed the gun a little harder under Weasel’s chin, “who the fuck it is I need to kill for what they did to Dopinder, and to my safehouses.” he cocked one side of his masked brow. 

Weasel nodded again, 

“Yeah, I got it.” he said in a shaken voice, answering the last unvoiced question.  

Dopinder spoke then, his voice very self-sorry and serving to drain away some of the tension, 

“DP, I’m sorry if I caused you trouble, I told them about the safehouses I remem-” 

“Shshshshshsh,” Wade turned away from Weasel to look at Dopinder, but he was still holding the gun under Weasel’s chin as he raised his free hand, his index finger held up to silence the sad cabbie, “you did nothing wrong. You are in no way to blame for this shit show and I am going to kill each and every fucker connected to this in anyway, in every way. Shit’s gonna’ get messy. Like food poisoning diarrhea on a really hot day in a crowded swimming pool kind of messy.” he clarified, making both Dopinder and Dom pull their faces, grossed out.  

Then he turned back to Weasel and whispered quietly enough that only he would hear, 

“You’re a pussy, I didn’t even take the safety off.” he removed the gun from under the man’s chin and held it up for Weasel to see, before he turned and walked away, not looking at anyone or looking back as he slammed his way out of the apartment.  

He made his way down and out of the building quickly, but Weasel followed him out into the street, calling after him and running up to him. Wade was still too keyed up about everything though, and when Weasel waved a phone by his face, he was reminded of the fact that he’d chucked his own out of the window when Peter had called him, and it pissed him off enough that he grabbed a hold of Weasel’s wrist, and squeezed and twisted way too hard.  

He didn’t hold on long though, and he took the phone because he did actually need it and fuck he’d tossed his phone out of the fucking window! Fuck fuck fuck! That phone that had Peter’s number on it! Son of a fucking assmonkey! He really needed to stop disregarding his phones like that! 

At least though, he had Peter’s number written down on a piece of paper...which was somewhere in his totally trashed apartment living room. 

“Fuck, I’m an idiot.” he muttered to himself right when Weasel said, 

“This isn’t my fault, Wade.”  

Jesus fuckballs. Wade did not want to have a shouting match with Weasel in the street, and he also didn’t feel like he was out of the danger zone in which he may be a hazard to Weasel’s wellbeing. He tried not to react, but he found himself doing so anyway, yelling back, until... 

...until something distracted him. He noticed something felt odd. Something triggered his more concentrated awareness of his surroundings, especially since he was already wired up.  

See, Wade was a fuck up, he was a mess and very prone to doing stupid shit. But when it came down to it, he was a mercenary, he was a very dangerous mercenary. He’d gotten really sloppy over the years of having a healing factor, he really let things go and he often let himself get injured or killed during jobs. He tended to fuck around, wreak havoc and do stupid shit when he worked to keep himself entertained. But under all that, when he took shit seriously, however rarely he did, Wade was every bit The Mercenary he often claimed he was.  

And right then, with what had happened to Dopinder and knowing he had to find the sons of bitches who wanted that weapon and deal with them before Peter had to, Wade was on high alert. So, he noticed that he was being watched, his instincts making him hyperaware that there was someone else present besides the neighborhood-nosies watching to get their drama fix.  

And Wade wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but he was at least eighty percent certain, that it was Peter. It was Spider-Man. High up somewhere, watching. Something about the notable eyes on him didn’t feel like danger. It made him feel self-conscious, and like he was being observed. And Peter had saved Dopinder, right? Peter knew Dopinder knew Wade. Peter knew Wade had that gun. Peter was Spider-Man and Spider-Man was a superhero, superheroes didn’t just let shit like that go, especially not real, true superheroes like Spider-Man. 

 In all likelihood, he could easily have followed Dopinder to Weasel’s or something, but whatever it was, Wade was sure Peter was there...possibly on his...left? He turned his head a little, ignoring whatever the fuck Weasel was saying, and then he turned his head enough to look up behind him, at the face of a different apartment building half a block down.  

There was no one there, but his instincts knew better.  

Peter was there. Or he had been. 

Fuck it.  

Wade wasn’t ready to talk to Peter yet, first he needed to deal with the arms dealers, assassins and the gun. Then, and only then, when things had calmed down and no one was left to possibly go after Spider-Man, he would go and see Peter, like a normal, decent human being. He’d even knock on his do-...okay, on his window, not his door. No doors. But he’d knock, and then he’d try to explain his dumbass ways and reasoning and then he’d...maybe...maybe take his mask off.  

He was already walking away down the street, Weasel forgotten. He needed to handle his shit, and he needed to do it fast.

Peter had to help May with promoting one of her blip placement fundraisers.  

How he did that, was by showing up to the function for twenty minutes or so to impress NYC’s wealthier inhabitants and the press, with his being a superhero, and an Avenger and blah blah. The attendants were mostly superficial, unpleasant and very entitled people with money to burn, which made it suck to be paraded in front of them, but their money was for a good cause, so Peter didn’t complain. He was mostly used to it by that point anyway, however, depending on the attending crowd, it could either be awkward, or more awkward, or very awkward for him.   

The event he was presently attending was close enough to being very awkward, which meant while no one outright offered to pay him a lot of money to reveal his identity, or to be their personal bodyguard, or worse, like a handful of times, people had offered to pay him for sex, it was still pretty bad. Bad enough that people asked too personal and invasive questions about his superhuman spider physiology, and that he got flirted with excessively, as well as asked how much he’d charge for one-on-one ‘interviews’ or to do a sexy calendar photoshoot. And it was only by the grace of his heightened senses that he was able to avoid getting groped, three times! Twice from behind and once from the front.  

Geez. People could be so...ugh.  

And it seemed to get a little worse every time.  

He wondered if New Yorkers who attended the events were getting bolder because they felt he was within reach? More accessible to them? He doubted anyone would ever try to grab Cap- uh, Steve Roger’s butt or crotch, or actually, not even Sam Wilson’s for that matter! 

That final thought, about Sam, occurred to him right when his appearance time ended. So, he was able to duck out of the room, slip down a hallway and close himself off in the conference room reserved for May -and him- to use in the hotel during the event. Once inside, he sighed heavily, but not just about how exhausting his brief appearance had been. Also because, like a completely pathetic idiot, thinking of Sam Wilson , had made him think of Wade Wilson .  

And just like that, Wade was back on his mind.  

Peter sighed again and pulled off the mask of his integrated suit. He’d already checked that there were no cameras in the room when he’d arrived, so he was free to breathe without it as he dropped his mask on the table and flopped into one of the conference room chairs. Since the night before he’d been trying so damn hard not to think about Wade...about how Wade had thrown his phone out of a window just because he’d called him. 

It still hurt to recall the sound of the call cutting out when the phone had hit the pavement.  

He swallowed thickly and sighed yet again, moving to sit forward with his elbows on his knees, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes as he groaned quietly. Hearing it, seeing it, had hurt him more than he’d thought it would, because Wade doing that somehow made it feel like it was really over. Apparently, before that, he hadn’t truly thought it was over. Maybe because they hadn’t said it was, because Wade hadn’t said anything, so Peter had been unconsciously holding on to the hope it could be fixed.  

But if Peter calling him had pissed him off that much...well. It was definitely over.  

Ugh, it sucked. It hurt. He hated it. 

“Come on, get it together, you don’t have time for thi-!” he grabbed his mask off the conference table quickly and had it halfway over his head a second before the door to the room opened, his shoulders tense and hands still holding his mask material just above his mouth.  

It was just May though, and she entered and closed the door behind herself without even noticing his brief panic. Huffing out a breath, Peter pulled the mask off again and sat back heavily just when she looked at him and asked, 

“Hey, you okay?” he met her concerned gaze and nodded, but she frowned, “I noticed some of those rich jerks trying to get fresh with you.” she sounded pissed about it. It was his turn to frown though, wondering where she’d picked up that expression, but he didn’t ask, just answered,  

“I’m okay, they didn’t actually touch me.” he reassured her blandly. 

“Your Peter tingle warned you, right?” she asked, and Peter was too tired to tell her that he had started calling it his spider sense, so he just nodded and tiredly said, 

“Yeah.”  

May obviously noticed something about his tone after that, because the papers and folder she was busy with across the conference table from him, were forgotten as she lifted her head just enough to look at him contemplatively over the rim of her glasses. 

Peter just knew she was going to want to know what was wrong, even before she leaned on the table with one hand, pushed her glasses up her nose with the other and cocked an eyebrow at him, 

“I wasn’t going to ask,” really? Crap, he should have hidden it better, “but I already noticed when you got here earlier that you seemed off. What’s going on, Peter?” 

He blinked, feeling so down and drained that he just raised his eyebrows and tried to fake it off, 

“Nah, I’m fine, May, just tired.” he cleared his throat, which suddenly felt a bit constricted. 

She stared at him, 

“Are you aware that your eyes are puffy?” 

Peter blinked twice and subconsciously rubbed his left eye, sitting up straighter, 

“Tired, May, I, you know, sleep and-” he had to clear his throat again, because it felt tighter, like he wanted to cry. What the hell? “I, uh, need s-sleep.” he cleared his throat again. 

He glanced at May then and she looked like she wanted to cry. 

Peter’s eyes started to water.  

She was coming around the table and leaning down to hug him very quickly, and Peter stood up into it and hugged her back immediately, blinking his eyes, some moisture escaping to wet his lashes. He didn’t cry, he didn’t even sob, but his eyes were wet and his chest and throat hurt just like they’d been doing for days.   

She drew back after a moment, her eyes also wet as she sniffed and fussed with wiping some moisture from the corners of his eyes, 

“Something happened with Wade?” she asked quietly. Peter took a moment to swallow, before he nodded, sniffed softly. She shook her head, “I never thought I’d say this to you, Peter, but some men can be real jerks sometimes. I’m sorry, sweety.” she patted his shoulders and then squeezed. 

Peter managed an unhappy, watery smile, 

“Yeah, I am a real jerk.” he said softly, and she looked genuinely surprised, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to her that he might have been the problem.  

She frowned, folding her arms loosely across her stomach, 

“What happened?” 

Peter swallowed, sniffed, eyes drying already but throat and chest still sore, 

“I was rushing him. He wasn’t ready.” May’s eyes widened and now she looked really surprised, and when Peter realized what it sounded like he shook his head, “I mean, uh,” how to word it? Maybe, “c-commitment wise, May, not,” he managed to snort sadly, “not what it sounded like.”  

“Seriously?” she said right away, sounding unimpressed, and he’d thought it was with him, but then she shook her head and went on, “Did you ask him to move in or get married or something? What the hell is wrong with people these days?” she was upset on his behalf, and Peter knew Wade didn’t deserve her being angry at him, but he couldn’t tell her the whole story, so he just let her rant, “You know what Peter, he probably just wants to avoid commitment so he has an out when he goes and sleeps with someone else. Some people just don’t like monogamy, they don’t like being ‘tied down’.” she used her fingers to make air quotes, shaking her head again, “They don’t appreciate how nice it is to have one reliable, dedicated and safe partner, and it’s sa-”  

“May, May, no, come on,” he couldn’t let her go on when she had it all so wrong, “it’s not-, it’s not about that.” 

“Did you ever find out about the kids or divorcee thing?” she looked so cross. 

“Yeah, I did,” he said quickly, swallowed around the lingering lump in his throat, “he doesn’t have kids, never been married. It's not about that, its...it's complicated.” he didn't know what else to say. So, he should have left it there, but he hadn’t realized he’d wanted to talk about it until May was there, listening, “And I thought, after we sort of argued, that maybe I could still fix it,” he fiddled with his mask between his hands, looking down, “but he, uh, he won’t take my calls.” understatement of the year for sure.  

May’s nostrils actually flared, and she looked pissed off now, 

“That’s,” she paused, took a breath, “ that is just an asshole thing to do.” 

“ May .” Peter was surprised that she cursed, “Hey, just calm down. I’ll be fine, okay, I’m young, aren’t I supposed to have a few heartbreaks or something.” he tried to joke, forced a smile, nose and eyelids a bit red and burning, he sniffed again. May looked both sad and angry now, then randomly she said, 

“Let’s go watch a movie or something, when this fundraiser is over, huh?” she grabbed one of his hands and checked the watch on her other wrist before looking at him again, “Take the night off,” Peter made an uncertain face, “unless something serious happens, take the night off. You just had a break up, you need a night to relax.”  

He wasn’t sure that was what he needed, it’d just be more time to possibly think about Wade, but he also didn’t want to just say no when May was so plainly worried about him. So, he gave in, 

“Yeah, okay, unless something serious happens.” he nodded and she smiled, 

“Great, it’s been a while since we did a movie night, huh?” she patted his chest lightly with the back of her hand, “It’ll be fun. Just some family time. No relationship nonsense.” she said surely as she started to go back around the table.  

And Peter just nodded, but inside he was hurting, because of that fact that it’d barely even been a relationship in the first place...

Nothing serious happened that night.  

He and May went out to watch a movie and his spider sense only hummed very lightly a handful of times. And he kept his attention on the minor alerts, but each one faded without any spikes and he ended up not having to run off. So he actually enjoyed the evening with May. They watched a new sci-fi movie and both had a laugh at it afterwards when they sat down to eat something at a restaurant which they both favoured.  

May was very careful about not mentioning anything relationship related and Peter pretended like Wade wasn’t still on his mind, and it was fine. Fine enough. He’d actually done something similar with May after MJ. It wasn’t so bad, he’d be fine...eventually.

And he felt fine when he got home that night.  

He still felt fine as he meandered around his apartment, as he prepared to suit up and go out on a very late patrol, because he felt guilty about slacking off and also because he didn’t think he would be able to sleep anyway.  

He had just switched off the charging chamber for the Iron Spider suit, which was on the floor beside his desk, and was securing the ‘watch’ to his wrist, when his phone chimed. Foolishly, and so pathetically, he hoped it was Wade, but when he pulled his cell out of his pocket and lit up the screen, his stomach both sunk and flipped over...because it was MJ.  

Unconsciously, Peter glanced to the half visible photo of her still stuck up on his wall. He’d often considered taking it down, but then he’d remind himself that he and MJ had been friends too, before dating, so taking it down felt like it was wrong, even though keeping it up felt like it was weird. Confusing and weird. Then again, the fact that she was texting him, more in a single week than she had in the months since they’d broken up -i.e not at all-, was confusing and weird for him too.  

He didn’t get it. 

“What is happening?” he mumbled to himself, unlocking his phone and opening the message notification, blinking one time too many as he read it before his eyes widened and he just stared at the message. It read; 

Hey, sorry to text you again. Maybe you   

don’t want to hear from me? Anyway, I just  

wanted to let you know that I’ll be in NYC  

later this week. I thought maybe we could  

get dinner on Saturday or something.  

Let me know.  

He hadn’t answered the last text she’d sent, the one which had ended with ‘I miss you’, and now she was texting him again? Did it mean anything? Did he want it to mean anything?  

He glanced at the picture on the wall again, and then reached out and plucked it off the wall to look at it. MJ was so beautiful...and so familiar and comfortable. He frowned, not sure what to make of the feeling in his stomach as he thought of whether he wanted to get back together with her or not.  

She may not even be interested in that, he knew, but for some reason he felt like he had to consider what he wanted if that turned out to be the case...because Wade. Wade was still on his mind. Almost always on his mind. Peter lowered his gaze, and then he put her photo on the desk and navigated out of MJ’s text, into his photo gallery, where he pulled up the picture of Wade from before his mutation. He barely noticed the woman beside the merc anymore when he looked at the picture, it was just Wade’s face that he looked at.  

He looked at that smile that he’d seen many times already, those lips that he’d kissed. It was not the first time that he’d looked at the picture and tried to picture before-Wade with no hair, with the disfigured skin. And having seen Wade’s skin, it wasn’t that difficult, but of course, he had no way of knowing whether he was getting it right. He also couldn’t acurately picture what Wade’s eyes, his full nose or his brow would look like. Not even his ears. But hed tried. Sometimes to test himself. 

And even when he pictured it, it still didn’t bother him.  

Damnit, it all seemed so stupid.  

He really wished Wade would trust him, would believe him, then none of what had happened the previous night would have happened and they’d be okay, they’d still be working on it, figuring it out. He felt his throat getting tight again and he sniffed hard and forced himself to shake it off as he closed the picture...then went back into it. He looked at it for a moment longer before tapping to bring up the ‘delete’ option. It took a few seconds, his finger hovering over the option, but he followed through, and then felt his throat get tighter.  

“I was never supposed to have the damn picture in the first place.” he reminded himself, thinking of the fact that it had even been deleted from Weasel’s IG. He sniffed again and was about to put his phone on the desk so he could activate his suit, but then he remembered MJ’s text. 

Having already not answered her once, he felt like twice would just be super rude, so he went into her message, reread it and then made a split decision. He typed; 

Hey, sorry for not answering, been  

busy. Yeah, it’d be nice to get dinner.  

Saturday should be fine, but I’ll let  

you know ahead of time if I can’t  

make it.  

And he even added a smiley face.  

He’d actually come a long way from his early Spider-Man days. He realized that as he reread the text he’d just sent. There was a time when he would have promised he’d make it, would have said he’d be there for sure, or any other empty pledge. He didn’t do that anymore. He knew better now.  

Peter’s gaze dropped to the picture of MJ on the desk, and then he pulled his desk drawer open, pausing again when he saw Wade’s unfinished drawing in there, the one with Deadpool, the probably-a-taco and a sleeping half coloured Spider-Man. He sighed loudly, then used the pads of his fingers to drag MJ’s picture into the draw, where it fell to partially cover the unfinished Spider-Man side of the picture.  

Peter closed the draw. 

He was pretty much back to square one. 

Alone. Just him and his Spider-Man duties. 

And he had to stay focused on what he had to do.  

He nodded to himself, as convincingly as he could, then locked his phone and activated his Iron Spider suit. After putting his phone away, Peter left stealthily out of his window, determined not to think of Wade for at least the rest of the night...because come tomorrow, he was going to have to go and get that weapon from Wade, and he really wanted to have his shit together when he saw the older super again.

He didn’t manage not to think of Wade. 

Especially not when he tried to listen to music on his phone during patrol and the first playlist option was the 80s list he’d made because of Wade. Worse still, even when he went browsing for other music, the app kept recommending 80s songs that he ‘might like’. 

Peter shouldn’t have, but like a total idiot, he clicked on one of the recommended songs that seemed super popular, some song called Open Arms, by a group called Journey. 

Big mistake. No. 

Huge mistake.  

Peter spent the next few hours out on patrol fighting the urge to cry, only returning home just before the sun came up, at which time he deactivated his suit and lied on his bed, continuing to fight the urge to cry. Stupid song.  

Of course, he didn’t manage much sleep. 

Screw Wade and his stupid 80s music.

Peter stayed in the next day, all day, skipping his plan of going to see Wade about the weapon. The only time he left his apartment was that night when he went out really late to patrol, eyes red and puffy under his mask.

Playing with matches, we knew this would happen now...

It took him a whole extra day to work himself up to it, before he finally went to Wade’s apartment.   

He went in the early evening as Spider-Man, before his patrol, but the windows were all closed, or almost all closed, and the curtains were drawn over all the windows as well, and Peter wasn’t about to enter Wade’s apartment without the man’s permission, even if Wade had done so to him. So he knocked on the window he’d entered through when he’d last been there, but only twice, and he only waited for a short while.     

When no one answered after a little more than a minute, he left in a hurry. 

He did the same thing the next night and the next, knocking and then waiting a bit longer each time, but still, there was no answer.  

Peter ended up feeling equal parts annoyed and worried and angry.

By the fourth day, it was a Friday and he knew his patrol that evening was going to be busy, so he decided to take a chance and see if going to see Wade in the daytime would make a difference.      

Presently he’d just walked around a corner, Wade’s apartment building coming into view.     

He’d webbed his way into Manhattan wearing his Iron Spider suit for the convenience of not having to change clothes, and once he’d been about two blocks away from Wade’s place, he’d landed in a back alley, deactivated his suit, then he’d exited the alley and walked the rest of the way.  

Coming from NYU though, meant he had a backpack with him, and he felt so much younger carrying it. But he also didn’t feel like leaving it webbed in the alley. He was way past the days he’d done that sort of irresponsible thing. He wasn’t presently on patrol duty anyway, so he’d carry his bag, screw whatever Wade thought. Screw their age difference and how young he looked.  

It didn’t matter anymore.  

He’d been repeating that to himself over and over in the past few days, getting himself into as detached a mindset as he could manage in order to deal with seeing Wade again.  

He walked into the entrance of Wade’s...very nice apartment building complex. It was a gated entrance, an open walkthrough, so fancy. After walking across the outside entrance path, he entered the foyer area, where two sets of elevators were off to the left. There was also a staircase and a small reception area, and Peter awkwardly waved to the security guy sitting there. Typical New Yorker, he barely responded, but that was fine. Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to be remembered having visited there.  

It was probably going to be the last time anyway.  

He walked up to the elevators and pressed the button, waiting as calmly as he could pretend to, wishing he wasn’t so nervous and wishing he had more control over his emotions. He also wished he was wearing his suit because he felt so much more exposed without his mask on, especially regarding his inability to keep his feelings off his face.   

The elevator arrived after a minute and he got in. Luckily it was empty and he quickly pressed the top floor button. The doors closed and he stood stiffly, but it wasn’t long before he started fidgeting with the sleeves of his white and dark grey plaid shirt, which he was wearing over a T-shirt with another ‘nerdy’ design on it. His jeans were dark denim, nothing special, nothing new or especially fitting, they were even a bit faded, and on his feet he wore his equally worn in black and white Vans. He’d made quite an effort to dress ‘normally’ that morning, as if he didn’t care what he looked like when seeing Wade.  

He watched the floors climb and when the elevator finally dinged on the top floor, Peter swallowed dryly, suddenly feeling nervous. The doors opened and he walked out, passing 701, and then frowning slightly when he walked past 702, hearing someone listening very loudly –and with a lot of bass- to Katy Perry’s, Dark Horse. He recognized the song because Ned had really liked that song once upon a time. 

Blinking his attention away from the thumping music, he continued down all the way to 703 and took a deep breath just before he stopped in front of the door, only to blink again and then frown at it, because it was open. Just open, almost half way actually. Peter quickly focused on his surroundings, double checking his spider sense, but he got nothing; it was totally calm.  

Feeling like something was off, Peter stepped forward, raising a hand up to push the door open, but it got jammed against something, something that looked like a part of a broken cabinet. Peter pushed a little harder and it moved easily, and then he stepped forward and looked inside the apartment...and his eyes widened, his breath catching in his chest, when he saw the utter destruction everywhere inside.  

What had previously been Wade’s dimly lit, cluttered and very lived in living room, was now a totally trashed and destroyed mess.  

Just then the Katy Perry song ended and there was silence all around...before it started up again. 702 was apparently listening to it on repeat. Ned had done the same thing actually.   

Peter tried to block the music out as he walked further into the apartment, stepping over the large and smaller pieces of broken...everything. All the furniture was wrecked. The mounted, large flat screen torn down, broken almost in half. Even the walls were damaged, light fixtures, skirting boards, the nice wooden floors, there were bullet holes and scorch marks and-  

He brought a hand up to cover his nose and mouth, almost gagging when, as he stepped into the passage of the apartment, the smell of something rotten caught up to him. That smell definitely hadn’t been there when he was there last, the place had smelled like a mixture of take-out foods from what he recalled. The smell he was getting right then was like a dead bo...dy...  

Peter’s mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. 

He quickly assumed that there must have been a fight, and someone was dead.  

And even though he knew Wade couldn’t die, it didn’t stop him from panicking, heart immediately kicking harsh beats in his chest as he shouted, 

“Wade!” dropping his backpack and rushing down the hall. 

He skidded to a halt halfway down the passage, some broken stuff on the floor shifting and sliding out of the way when he came to an abrupt stop.  

With wide eyes, Peter took a moment to absorb what he was seeing, while also swallowing down the nausea he was experiencing from the intensity of the rotting smell emanating from right where he stood, in front of a door that was ‘closed’. Although it was plainly just leaning in the frame, barely on its hinges and with holes that appeared to have been punched through it.   

The smell was absolutely coming from inside the room, and as if he were in some kind of horror video game, on the door and parts of the wall, there were large red spray-painted words that read;   DO NOT ENTER .   

What the hell??? 

No way. 

Screw that.   

Confused and worried, Peter kicked the door in...

...watch it all go up in flames.