Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Feelings were messy. Unpredictable.

That is why Peter always preferred sciences. Engineering was straightforward. Rooted in indisputable facts of geometry and physics. Clear definitions. He enjoyed creating pieces with photography, the editing process, and crafting upgrades for his suit. Artistry coming out at the right angles. 

Love was like a technical error. No formula to fix the issues that always arose.

Work-life balance is a struggle even when you are not a friendly neighborhood vigilante. The ones he gave his affections to always wanted Peter. Or Spider-Man. Keeping his two lives separate was for their benefit. To protect them. Him too. Even if it was detrimental to those he held dear. 

Another long night. Another fight. Another sleepless night in the small room he called home. Alone. Even though Peter was exhausted, he could not sleep. Contemplating his failing relationship. Again. He ruminated the declarations of missing important milestones. Rehashing all the times she had been in danger because of Spider-Man. Unintentionally, of course. Spider-Man got in the way of Peter being the partner she needed.

She was right. He regretted all the times he was absent. Made her worry. Then angry. It was making him lose his mind, becoming helpless to the spiral he was creating. 

The end was coming, as it had so many times before, but this one was bad. It was going to be hard to come back from it. If ever. What would be the point, anyway? It was not like it would not kill him, even if it felt like it.

Peter scooped away a layer of cream from the pint. Curled against a vent on a low perch, the bustling of the city below him paying no mind to his sorrows. Lifting the mask just above his nose for bites. Occasionally, plopping a spoonful in his open to-go cup of coffee.

Maybe love was not for him. Or Spider-Man. Or Peter Parker. Whoever. That’s when his senses perked at the sound of a familiar gait.

“There you are! What’s shakin’, toots?”

Spider-Man nestled his knees toward his chest, cradling the pint between them. He felt like disappearing from the world at the moment. 

Deadpool inspected the ball of red and blue shielding itself. Curled tight with a metal spoon protruding from pouty lips.

“Yikes,” Shifting his weight. “Trouble, I assume.” 

“Assume,” Spider-Man grumbled.

Grimacing as Deadpool casually sat beside him, hands resting behind his head. He wanted to be alone, recently reminded of how nasty he could be in a foul mood. Although, Deadpool did have a knack for distractions. A couple of those would be welcomed right about now. Truthfully, the company was bringing a sense of relief. 

“And?” He inquired. “Details.”

Peter did not want to rehash the last twenty-four hours, which needed oh-so-much context. Deadpool did not need to know everything about Peter, or anything for that matter, and he was not going to start here. Losing his grip under the frustration, he crumbled under the anxiety flooding in as his thoughts swirled. Opting to reply,

“Spider-Man, basically.”

“They know, or-”

“Yeah. That’s who I am. I like it. I need it.” The Merc waited during the defensive pause. “But it’s not a normal life. I get that. So does she. It’s just not enough anymore.”

“Ah,”

“She deserves better,” Peter stated, taking another scoop. Instead of the sweet cream, his bite was laced with the reality of his words. They deflated him as he said them out loud.

Deadpool chimed with a rare sincerity, “Well, I’m sure you are doing your best. Those situations can be…tough.”

He thought of Deadpool’s wife. His ex. Ex-wife. Now that was messy. The city was in shambles when their relationship blew up. Deadpool had filled him in on some details after. Simply, not enough Deadpool. Too much Wade. She struggled to accept Wade as he changed. The more Peter admired the new version, the more Deadpool’s wife rejected him. Shit, was that my fault, too? Taking another scoop. He hoped he had not contributed to that, but what was another wallop of guilt?

Peter knew Wade could relate. In a twisted way, it was reassuring. A companion in turmoil. He was relieved to know Wade was beside him with all his melancholy.

“Sometimes, love isn’t enough.” Deadpool continued.

“Yeah,”

A brief moment passed in silence.

“Well, this is a pity party.”

“Mhmm,” Peter confirmed with another bite.

“You know what you need? A night out! Two bachelors out on the town. My classy establishment has a new act I think you’d get a kick out of.”

“Knowing you, I don’t think so.”

“Imagine,” Deadpool said, waving his hand above him toward the sky.

“Nope.”

“C’mon. You’re telling me you’d rather wallow up here than see a show that will sear into your eye sockets for the rest of your life?”

“Yup.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Mmmhm.” Peter exaggerated. 

The briefest moment of silence graced Peter’s ears when Deadpool perked up again.

“How about,” Spider-Man did not indicate encouragement to this line of questioning. “A good rebound. That’s the best way to get a move on. I’ll be your wingman. The ladies usually jump on me, but I can shoot a few your way.”

Peter groaned, twisting the spoon in the cup to properly mix the chunky contents. Being around other people sounded like torture. Besides, he was being productive right here with his pint.

“I don’t do things like that.”

“What, like sex? You don’t have sex?”

“N-no! I mean, yes! Uhg, I mean, I don’t do one-night stands.” Peter corrected in a raised pitch.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Deadpool lifted his head as if recollecting something. 

The eyes of Sipder-Man’s mask squinted in his direction.

“You know I read something, somewhere,”

“No.”

“That you and Ms. Black Cat-”

“Not talking about.”

“Oh! So it’s true, then.”

Peter gripped the spoon between his teeth with a sigh. Flopping his head to the side in irritation. 

“Alight, alright,” Deadpool shook his hands in front of his chest, figuratively letting the topic go. With another sweet silent millisecond, “You know, I’m pretty flexible too. Would you make me purr , Spidey?”

Peter hoped his annoyance was being perceived clearly.

“Seriously! Or would you prefer I rustled up instead, mopey.” Deadpool shook his hand atop Peter’s head, pretending to mess up the hair under the mask. “So tense.”

Peter recoiled, offended. Anxiety flaring from the contact.

…Though, they were pretty synchronous in more ways than when they teamed up. During the lulls between patrols, they got to know each other well. As much as two masked men could. Deadpool always got Spider-Man his own plate during stakeouts, noticing how he took note of Spider-Man's favorite joints. When Spider-Man got hurt the not-so-gentle way of Deadpool helped him mend. On the nights when Spider-Man did not go home, Deadpool would set up a secondary system and T.V. in one of his hideouts so they could play online. ‘That split screen shit messes with my KDR.’ How Deadpool would wear that shit-eating grin when busting Spider-Man’s chops. Like the one he had right now. 

They were more alike than he would like to admit. Covering up the craziness of their lives with moronic dispositions. Peter acted as if he hated it, but he looked forward to the plays and quips of someone who could relate to him. It was easy. Familiar. Deadpool was flexible, too, wasn’t he? It was becoming difficult to reject the passing thought completely. 

What was he contemplating? Feelings for this guy? No. Spider-Man had grown fond of his annoying teammate. They were partners.  

“More like lovers.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

 Peter chuckled to himself. Deadpool cocked his head, raising his brow with a smirk. God, why was he looking at him like that? Acting coy, like it was endearing or something. Deadpool's levity made Peter want to give in to his instincts to avoid this heartache. The corner of his mouth curled up. Even though Deadpool was unpredictable at times, he was a safe place Spider-Man could come to.

Making a mistake felt so natural. Necessary. He pressed his lips to the spoon, slowly pulling it away from his mouth, getting off the last bit of cream. Deadpool watched as the spoon slid through Peter’s lips. Upon release, white eyes met back up at Spidey’s.

Peter acknowledged his trust in Deadpool, and The Merc’s looseness clouded his better judgment, but what was the harm? Love was dead, but pleasure wasn’t. 

Taking a small scoop from the pint, he lifted the spoon to Deadpool, who hesitated before taking the cue. 

“Don’t mind if I do.”

It could ruin everything—irrefutable damage to his friendship with this big weirdo.

The scarred lips were open just enough for Spider-Man to push the spoon through. He could feel the pressure of Deadpool’s lips and tongue surrounding the utensil. He pulled it out slowly from the mouth’s grasp. Spider-Man then brought the spoon to himself, lapping the remaining cream. Tasting the streaks left by Deadpool. It was good.

Peter felt his heart thumping hard. He could see he had Deadpool’s full attention, and he liked it. Through the gaze, Peter sensed the tension building inside him. What was he thinking about right now? Does Deadpool think he is actually seeing Spider-Man do this? Peter barely could. Did all those flirtations have any basis?

With another scoop, Spider-Man lifted it to Deadpool. Eyes still locked, Deadpool wrapped his tongue to the bottom of the spoon, the cold of the metal sticking to it taught, pulling it in. Deadpool’s jaw moved against the metal, absorbing all he could before it was taken away. 

Spider-Man leaned toward him. Every millisecond dragged before lightly brushing Deadpool’s lower lip with his. A small sting of cold, with a hint of chocolate.

Pulling away, Peter's mind went into a frenzy. 

 What was he doing? He must be stupid. But It felt kinda good. Yup, stupid. This was Deadpool. Deadpool . The Merc with the Mouth. The mouth he just kissed. 

Peter felt fingertips touch his jaw as they traced it as he turned to see Deadpool looking expectantly. The Merc leaned over him, meeting Spider-Man’s lips again. Soft at first, feeling craters of scaring in slow, brief movements. Running his tongue between Peter’s lips. Separating them to let him in. He lapped and pressed at the soft tissue. Peter wrestled the entry with his tongue, only to surrender, letting Deadpool invade him further.

Between apprehensive touches, Peter sunk deeper into the hand, cradling the back of his neck, fingers running through tufts of hair escaping the back of the mask. Deadpool’s scent surrounded him. It was the only thing he could think about, and he wanted to let it take him away. When Deadpool broke away, Peter made an irritated whine.

Deadpool tapped his pointer fingers together while biting his cheek before wiggling them at Spider-Man.

“You’re vulnerable right now,”

Peter lifted an eyebrow.

“What kind of friend would I be to take advantage of that? The good kind or the bad kind?”

Was that a trick question, or was he thinking aloud again? Peter hoped he’d keep the answer to himself. He already knew he was taking advantage of Deadpool's admiration for him.

Deadpool’s eyes animatedly rolled between his shoulders, apparently amid a debate with himself. After a generous lapse, Peter decided for him. Planting a hand on Deadpool’s thigh and squeezing, using it as leverage to lift himself on top of The Merc. Shuffling a leg between leathered ones. Spider-Man lowered his head and narrowed his eyes.

“Who says your taking advantage? I’ll decide what’s good for me. Or is the big bad Deadpool all bark and no bite?”

“Please, biting? That’s foreplay.”

“Oh?”

Spider-Man brushed his lips down the exposed area at Deadpool’s collar. Giving light kisses before using his teeth to wrap around the rough skin. Sucking playfully and applying pressure, feeling the skin fill the space between his gums. Pulling away, he had not even left a mark.

“What was that? A nibble or something?”

Deadpool then pulled their lips together, aggressive and calculated. The friction made Peter’s membranes hot and tender. He let out a whimper as a sudden pressure stung through him as the sensitive skin broke and began to throb with a metallic overlay. The ferocity shocked him, but it made him grind against the thigh he had captured. 

Pulling away, they stared at each other, eyes flashing back and forth, making a silent agreement. 

“I got a place nearby.” Deadpool offered.

Chapter Text

Spider-Man entered through the window easily. No security of any kind. However, that was the least of his surprise.

It was a simple studio. Surprisingly well put together with decorations of books, posters framed neatly on the walls, and a vase of fake flowers on the T.V. stand. It was simple, though. Peter did not expect something so…plain. Compared to the typical hideouts Deadpool inhabited.

He was taken out of his observations when arms embraced him from behind. He felt the absence of heat on his neck when Deadpool inhaled. Peter relinquished his weight onto the large body behind him, feeling the heat return with every exhale.

Deadpool separated Spider-Man’s mask from his suit to reveal soft skin, giving sucking pecks. His hands were big, and Peter swooned, relinquishing control to the man behind him. They groped his abdomen up to his chest, pinching his nipples. Peter winced as the fingers tightened and pulled, making them firm and hot. He overlapped his hands with those feeling him up. Following a hand glide down from his chest past the front of his stomach. He felt the nerves in his thighs spark when the hand grazed his groin before gripping his hip. Enough contact for Deadpool to know how excited he was making Spider-Man.

Squeezing the hand, Peter moved it back to the throbbing trapped within his suit. With a sigh, he rubbed the hand back and forth in unison with his. The spandex became tight and warm. The man’s body was big. Bigger than him. Sturdy. Turning him on even more. Pressing harder into the man holding him, fully letting Deadpool support his weight. The hand fondled and squeezed him, dampening the fabric.

Deadpool’s leathered fingers slipped along the moisture leaking through. “Oh, baby,” 

Peter could feel Deadpool grinding against him. It did not make him as nervous as he thought, succumbing to it more with each motion. 

 With a playful toss, Spider-Man was plopped onto the mattress at the edge of the room. 

Deadpool straddled him, moving his hands under the suit along the curves of his muscles. His weight trapping Spider-Man between him and the mattress. Every touch was electrifying. The hands grabbing him were unforgiving, hurting a little. Making him feel coveted. 

I’m really doing this.

A hand moved to lift Spider-Man’s mask. Peter cautiously met the hand pulling to reveal his lips and the tip of his nose.

“That’s enough.”

 Anxious thoughts of what he was risking, why he should not be here, not doing this, sparked out of him like an overload. What he was doing should feel wrong, but it wasn’t.

With a kiss, “Just want these.”

Deadpool scooted himself off the edge of the bed, kneeling, pulling Spidey with him. Peter’s heart thumped in his throat with each inch he was dragged to the edge. With the tips of his toes hitting the floor, Deadpool tugged at the seam at his waist.

“This good?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Deadpool followed the definition along Spider-Man’s thighs, fingertips gliding over the sensitive areas before cupping him entirely. Peter restrained a sound in response to the contact. As his suit was peeled lower, dark hairs and light skin were exposed. 

Wade removed his mask, leaving little smooches on trailing clusters of freckles at Spidey’s hips. Revealing Peter from his suit, popping out stiff and glistening. Fervour consumed any trepidation from the exhibition, giving over to the pleasure. He kicked off the rest of the suit with his feet.

Smirking, Wade opened Spidey’s thighs, fitting between them and swiping thick wet streaks along his base, gripping the rest of Peter upright. He kept his eyes on Spidey while he left saliva behind from the kisses he made. 

The wet lips and sucking teased Peter. He watched Wade’s tongue slide over veins and ridges, gliding over them effortlessly. Lewdly opening his mouth with hot breaths and performing circular strides over the sensitive tip, humming all the way. The vibrations reverberated to the tips of his toes. 

“Ah, please,” Peter pleaded before being engulfed by silky heat. Peter's eyes rolled back, groaning into his hand, hitting his head against the plush sheets. His pelvis tensed upward, furthering into the sweet hot abyss. Thick hands grabbed Spidey’s waist holding him down as Wade took in more of him. It- he was so perfect. Sucking tight around all of him as Peter hit the back of Wade’s throat.

Peter felt the throat open up for him as Wade bobbed in slow deep movements, taking in more and more with each suck that gripped onto him every time he came up. The sounds coming from him were sloppy and soaked, making Peter grip the comforter under him, thrusting and straining in the tight drenched space. Wade slowed and retracted as Spidey twitched and shook. Lightly cupping and massaging the package underneath, he let out another sound, less contained.

A tickle strategically pressed against another sensitive place. The sensation took Peter by surprise.

“H-Hey,” Spider-Man called out, flustered.

Wade pulled up from him, playfully swirling the finger.

“Want me to stop?”

That was the last thing Peter wanted. “N-no.” He replied apprehensively.

“Just relax, beautiful.”

Wade continued to make small circles as Peter’s hesitation dissipated as the teasing continued. The gratification from both areas melted away his resistance, making him eager for-

“More.” He said softly.

Obediently, Wade pressed the finger into Spidey. Moaning and squirming, it felt… weird. A good weird, but it made him feel more exposed than ever.

“Let me make you feel good.”

Peter let the finger push and fill him while that mouth lapped and siphoned along his length. It alleviated the strain from Peter’s body, surrendering it to Wade again. Trusting Wade and the pleasure of overtaking him. His insecurities faded as the finger swirled in and out. It was good. More than good. An indulgence he was always wanted. The satisfaction made him flinch and jerk while panting into his hand. Losing his senses, Spidey gripped the hand on his hip.

“Deadpool,”

The tightness in his abdomen was overpowering. Shaking and arching, the world dissolved around him as the sensations overwhelmed him. 

“Wade! I’m-”

Peter’s vision flashed white with every jut that spurted from him. Wade pushed Peter deeper into his throat, consuming all of him. With nothing left but twitches, Wade slowly pulled up, using a thumb to swipe up any of Spidey that escaped.

“You taste as good as I thought.”

Basking in the afterglow, Peter sunk into the mattress. For the first time he could remember, his mind was finally empty.

Leaning over Spidey, Wade pressed his lips lightly to his. Peter could smell and taste himself. The evidence of his mark on Wade satisfied him. He licked them before extending for Wade’s tongue. He wanted more. Wanted the man to claim him. Becoming more desperate at the mingling of their scents. 

He could feel Wade motioning, adjusting himself in his suit. Peter thought of Wade getting off because of him. He moved his thigh against Wade’s groin. He was hard as hell, and Spidey glared at the man with renewing lust. 

“Already want more?”

Stroking his calf at the prominent bulge, “More of you.”

Wade smiled sheepishly. “This isn’t about me.”

“Who said it was for you?”

Wade chuckled at the honesty. Spidey took Wade’s hand and placed it in the space between his cheeks. 

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to.”

Wade leaned to the side of the bed, rustling through the drawer. Removing a glove, The Merc applied liquid from a tube onto his fingers. Upon the lid snap, Spidey pulled Wade back to him, the scent still on him, arousing Peter all over again. It was too much too quickly, but he wanted Wade. Needed him in every way. 

Wade returned a finger to him. Pushing in deeper, quicker. Peter grasped onto Wade as another finger entered and spread him. Wade muffled encouragements while exploring and expanding. The discomfort abruptly dissipated when Wade pressed against a small node inside him, making Peter gasp haughtily. His eyes hazed over at the overwhelming sensation. His legs squeezed the muscular arm between them. 

“Feel good there?”

“Haaa… Yes!”

Peter writhed under the larger man. The sounds from him were incomprehensible, with Wade alternating, between spreading his fingers and delivering bliss, entering another. 

“S’good,” Peter breathed through labored pants.

Wade fiddled with his suit with the free hand, relinquishing himself. Getting a view, Peter’s eyes widened. No way. Wade was much bigger than a couple of fingers.

“Don’t worry, little bug,” Wade comforted.

With the removal of his fingers, Peter took it as a personal offense. Hovering over him, Wade shifted between Peter’s legs, hiking them up onto his chest for Spidey to hold them in preparation. Wade aligned himself and pushed his tip in gradually. Discomfort turned into a disruption of pain, splitting Peter. He choked whines as Wade separated him further. Becoming more than he could take, he lost the grip on one of his legs. Wade caught it, keeping it in place.

“S-so tight,” Wade groaned as he made restrained movements in the small space he created, only going so far as Spidey could let him. The still-lubed hand gripped and stroked Peter through gentle thrusts. Peter fought against his eyes whelming. Wade’s legs moved under Peter’s, keeping them hiked and took his free hand in Spidey’s, clasping it over his head against the pillows. 

The Merc uttered sweet nothings close to Spidey’s ear, pushing in at alternating angles until he began to hit that special place inside him, making him feel that addicting bliss with consistent momentum. The bed frame creaked and jostled as Wade let Spidey’s whines lead him.

“You’re…amazing,”

“Just…f-fuck me,”

Peering through impassioned watery eyes, Peter saw Wade’s skin cratered and open against the well-defined structure. How his lips parted and glistened as stifled grunts moved through them. His eyelids only let a fragment of white pass through, completely for him. Peter slipped into them, transfixed as another whirl painfully swept through him. Pulsing with intense flares in Wade’s slippery strokes. The other's gaze never left Spidey as he writhed through another orgasm. 

Wade slowed his momentum as clear, thin spurts projected onto Spidey’s stomach. Groaning in tandem as Spidey constricted around him. 

The release of Wade was relieving, leaving Peter feeling empty. The Merc lay next to his spent body. Peter’s limbs were sprawled, joints weak. That would be fine if he never moved from this spot again. 

Hearing Wade’s breathing change, Peter looked over, seeing Wade pump himself. Realizing his audience, Wade motioned to get out of bed. Peter caught him before he could leave. 

Don’t go. He did not want this to be over yet. To go back to the misery he felt on that rooftop. 

Returning, Wade wrapped an arm under Peter, who used it as a nook to fit himself into. He hated how comfortable it was. 

His hand innately trailed down Wade’s abdomen. Fingertips lightly touched the slippery shaft. Covered in the same scars as the rest of his body. Peter liked the way his hand looked, touching and gripping it. He watched his hand work the way he knew he liked it, wondering if the scars hurt or made it difficult for Wade to cum. He experimented with the tightness of his grip along the length of the admittedly impressive endowment. He was a bit proud that he was able to take it. Most of it, at least. Letting the rise and fall of his head on Wade’s chest indicate the right motions. 

Wade’s breath warmed the top of his head as his breathing quickened. The body next to him tensed and released in successions. Renewing Peter’s resolution, he straddled over The Merc. 

“Webs,”

Peter took him in, whining as Wade filled him. The sensitivity was unbearable, but Wade’s expression as he watched made his hips move. His movements were awkward and disjointed as he tried to find a satisfying position. Wade’s hands gripped Peter’s hips, keeping them where he wanted them. Peter let the man thrust into him as he liked. Breaking further into him as Wade hit deeper. 

He never wanted Wade to stop wanting him like this. Viciously being adored and used all at the same time. Peter felt himself give in to a dangerous feeling. 

The man under him groaned as he forced Spidey’s cheeks to land on him with a smack as he thrust into him, causing Peter to release dissolute yelps. Wade’s vigorous movements made the bed frame creek and wobble precariously. The bed made a thud as it slanted to the side. The sudden shift made Peter cry out at the force of Wade pushing into him, making his stomach ache.

Wade stabled Peter by grabbing his forearm, brushing the engorged nub under his wrist to intertwine their fingers. Peter used the hand to help him stay upright. 

Ehguastion prompted Peter to lean over Wade, sweat dripping from his brow and nose with each knock into him. Skin snapped with each hit. Wade could not restrain the low groans erupting from himself as Peter felt spurting heat fill him. Each jut surged into him with hard, relieving thrusts.

Peter plopped onto Wade, fingers still intertwined with aching tightness. Holding him back just as hard. He could feel Wade’s heart thumping in his chest, matching the throbbing inside him. 

He knew the euphoria coursing through him was temporary. Soon, he would have to go back to reality. But right here, right now, is where he wanted to be. He wanted this moment to last forever. The emptiness of Wade came again all too soon.

Laying beside him, Peter wiggled his head into the nook again. Hands still clasped, he positioned his body away from the rest of Wade, who was radiating heat. In his positioning, Peter felt liquid gush from him, making him shiver. 

Wade released him to sit up on the oddly angled bed.

“Bathrooms through there,” Wade said as he gestured to a door. 

Peter watched Wade leave the bed to the kitchenette and look through the cupboards.

“Looks like we got…corn. Beans.”

Peter grimaced at Wade’s commentary. How could he be so casual? Just like that. After what they just did? 

“Collard greens, ew, in a can? More corn. Ooo, ramen!”

Right, What was he expecting? Carefully getting up from the bed as gracefully as possible, Peter made his way to the bathroom.

He could not bring himself to make a remark before closing the bathroom door behind him and resting against it. He held his face in his palms briefly before dragging them down. He was confused, agitated, and elated all at once. What does Deadpool think of him now? It was so easy for him to go back to normal. But, damn, that was... 

Peter started the shower. Removing the top half of his suit in a pile on the floor. Evaluating himself in the mirror, his hair was damp. Small welts were appearing on his hips and thighs. They annoyed him, but not more than the fact they were proof of what just happened. He watched as the bruises formed into opaque colors. 

The mirror began to fog, masking his image, and prompting him to rinse off what Wade left behind. Peter loathed every removal of him. Hating the way he wanted to keep Wade on him. It reminded Peter how this distraction was over. How Wade’s hands felt around him, treating him gently when needed. The way Wade used him when he didn’t. All that was left was the intense surrendering of his emotions of being wanted. He liked Wade, but Peter did not know Wade could make him feel…like this. 

Peter felt himself fall into it. He let it happen, and he regretted everything. He knew this was a bad idea. This is why he did not do hookups. He was crippled under the hot water when a familiar pain rang through his head. 

Coming. Coming. Someone inside. 

He jumped out of the shower to throw the suit pieces back on. Looking along the tile to remember his pants were still in the other room. He wrapped a pink towel off the hook around his waist for decency’s sake before ejecting himself from the bathroom. Ready to web or tussle with whatever was triggering the alarm in his head. Only to see Wade in mid-crunch on a halfway-open package of dry ramen. The whites of his eyes glued to the doorway where Spidey found a woman with short blond hair holding a paper grocery bag to her chest, squishing her wamma bammas, when their eyes met.

“Spider-Man?”

He followed her eyes to the bed, clearly dismantled. 

“My bed!”

Her eyes move back to Wade, still crunching.

“What the fuck, Wade? What the actual fuck!” Looking back to Peter up and down. “Did you- Are you fucking Spider-Man in my house?” 

“Well-”

This wasn’t Wade’s apartment. Of course, not. If Peter could become invisible right now, that would be great.

The woman began to scold Wade, shouting profanities. He could hear Deadpool retort how the apartment was technically half his still and how he would reimburse the bed. The whole exchange felt awkward. Peter took this moment to cinch the towel around him and grab the bottom of his suit, pulling it on under the towel. 

“And you!” Spider-Man stiffened. “What are you still doing here?” 

He shrugged, not knowing what to do with his hands. 

“Get out of here! Get!”

 Peter webbed Wade to his shoulder and started pulling him to the other side of the room. Still arguing with the woman as he was walked backward, picking up his swords and holsters along the way. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” Spider-Man said before thwipping out the window with the Merc. 

“You’ll get a check! It’ll be good after the 16th!”

“Please. Shut. Up.”

Chapter Text

Every meet-up was a mistake Peter loved to make. 

Even though Wade infuriated him to no end at times, he could feel himself sinking deeper into their little infatuation. When they were together, he got to take a break from the obsessive thoughts of his inadequacies. Overriding his reasoning with Wade's jokes, his hands, his...

It would be easier if this had never happened. 

But Peter liked the way it felt to obsess over something that made him, well, happy. To not dread waking up every day. He was whole when around Wade.

The Merc never seemed inconvenienced with the mask or when Spidey did not go home. He was always eager to share the little comforts he had. Even letting Spidey use his place when he went out of town for contracts. His real place. The little notes and meals Wade would leave made Peter feel like he was a part of Wade’s routine as much as Wade was becoming part of his.

Weeks were passing by quicker than Peter could keep up. He could barely believe two months had passed since that long, arduous night alone. It was definitely over, and it still hurt, but not when he was with Wade. All he could think about was their next patrol. The next show they were going to binge. If Wade would order out or if he was going to cook.

The anticipation of seeing Wade again made him giddy, while the days between patrols without him were intolerable. More than the man himself on particularly bad "boxes" days. But when he came back, their reunions were that much more intense. The thought made him perspire and adjust in his jeans. 

Peter scribbled nonsense. Little sketches of the red and black suit. Detailing seams of the high-quality material, even though it had no wicking power. That talcum power was not good for his skin—the benefits of spandex. Peter wondered where he got them made. If it was uncomfortable all the time or if it irritated his wounds- 

Dr. Conners cleared his throat. 

Lifting his head, Peter’s eyes met with the disgruntled professor. Immediately fumbling with the mouse to transition to the next slide. He chuckled nervously as the professor resumed the lecture. Peter crunched the paper between his hands and threw it in the waste bin under the desk.

This good feeling felt like a trap. Just as with everything else, this would blow up sooner or later. He should end this before it backfired for both Peter and Spider-Man.

Chapter Text

Peter liked walking Deb to her part-time gig. She always gave him a free brew for the gesture. 

After an hour, he worked on his thesis for approximately five minutes. Well, he opened the document and stared at the screen. The blinking line taunted him. 

He could not help that every song was resonating with him. How the cadences dug up mushy sentiments, making him swoon in the chair. His face hurt. Surely from the stupid grin he had plastered across his face for who knows how long. 

He saw Deb wave to him from behind the counter. Taking out an earbud, Peter shifted his hands questionably. Mouthing “What?” from across the quiet, mostly empty coffee shop. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” She asked with a smirk.

“Shouldn’t you be working or something?”

“Or should I ask, who are you thinking about? You are so obvious.”

“You are delusional.” He declared, smile growing wider as he tried to fight it. He grabbed his backpack and shoved the laptop into it. 

“C’mon! Gimme the deets.” 

“Nothing serious.” That felt like a lie. “I should go, anyway. Got some stuff to do.”

If he was not going to be productive on his project, he should start patrolling early. Anything to distract him from the embarrassment that was exploding inside of him. And if he was lucky, he might get to explode all over his distraction tonight. 

“Oh, I’m sure, but you can’t hide forever, Parker!” She called out as Peter got up from the table. As he passed her, she leaned over the counter, lowering her voice. “It’s good to see you smiling again.” 

“Thanks.” He replied genuinely.

His hand barely grabbed the door handle before he felt it smack into him. The impact slid the satchel from his shoulder, spilling the contents of his books and laptop onto the floor. He scrambled to put all the items back. Thankfully his suit was at the bottom of the bag, not outing itself. 

“Here.” A book made it into his view, held by the stranger. Grabbing it, he saw an all too familiar red glove. Looking up, his body tightened in a frozen state. 

Deadpool.

When their eyes met, he wobbled his mouth, but no words came out.

I'm not ready. Does he know? What is he doing here? This can't be happening!

Peter's brain was melting. 

The Merc raised a brow and cocked his head when Peter did not take the book.

Wow, staring. Rude. Stupid. Stupid. He doesn’t know it’s you. Play it cool.

“Don’t mention it, kid,” Deadpool said, pushing the book into Peter’s chest, when he did not respond, before walking toward the counter. Peter’s limp hands did not catch it, making the book drop to the floor again.

He overheard Deb preparing his “usual”, which she had no idea what. Peter took one more glance at the scene before escaping the coffee shop. Walking down the bustling sidewalk, he held his bag tight. 

That was close. Too close. Didn’t notice me. Didn’t know it was me, right? Kid?!

He felt like a coward. Acting like a schoolgirl, blubbering and running away. Everything has been so easy up until now. It was comfortable and he enjoyed it. Peter acknowledged he was in too deep and that he was not going to be able to keep up this masquerade any longer.

Chapter Text

Avoiding Wade would be awkward, but he would get over it. 

It was the easiest option. Peter did not trust himself to resist the urges Wade made him feel when he was around. At least for a little while until Peter could compartmentalize his feelings, but it felt wrong. Peter scoffed. He was probably just another notch to add to his collection, anyway. The thought was…disappointing but realistic. Deadpool had a…reputation.

Peter had some stuff and equipment accumulated at Wade’s apartment. At a certain point, leaving his things there was easier than returning to his place. It was not much, but enough to be a pain to replace. 

Spider-Man landed on the fire escape outside of Wade’s apartment window. Wade left it unlocked so Spider-Man could crash whenever he wanted. Guilt overtook him as he opened the fridge to take a cold pancake, soggy with too much syrup. Munching, he navigated past haphazard take-out boxes and ammunition piles to the bathroom, picking up his toothbrush and shampoo bottle. He would miss using Wade’s special soap.

Moving into the bedroom, the air was still and hot from the early summer heat. Peter picked up his spare web cartridges on the dresser and a couple of shirts on the floor, stuffing them into his satchel. 

Missing something. Something. 

He looked at the bed, shifting through loose sheets, securing a pair of underwear. He stopped for a moment, sitting on his knees on the bed. The room smelled like Wade. Like them. Peter slowly lay flat on the mattress, inhaling deeply. It was cozy. Safe.

Peter let out a long sigh. Snuggling in on the side of the bed that dipped where Wade usually slept. Elevating Peter’s feet slightly. 

He smirked at how much attention Wade had paid attention to him over these last couple of months. He used not to give it a second thought, but now... His body warmed at the thought of someone wanting to care for him, like a friend. And adore him as so much more. 

Did ending this thing…like this, make him a bad person?

Consumed by The Merc’s scent, he nestled in Wade’s pillow, pushing the dakimakura out of the way. The sweat and musk overpowered him. Peter’s face began to heat up as he felt other parts of himself stiffen and ache. His exhales turned into little moans. Rolling his hips lightly, he tucked a hand between his thighs, cupping and groping. 

I shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t be doing this.

Rustling in the sheet folds, Peter began to tense between his legs. He could feel sparks going off behind his eyes. Grinding against the mattress, searching out friction. 

He wanted it. Needed it. Just one more time.

He was going to miss Wade. Miss everything. 

Peter groaned, his need building. He wanted to savor the last bit of Wade he could. Removing a glove, he shifted his hand under the spandex. The warmth and pressure of his hand made him sink further onto the bed. 

Peter squirmed as he throbbed in his hand. Shifting his head to eye the door. He waited a moment, only hearing the muffled bustle of the city outside and a few sounds from neighbors moving through the hallway. 

Closing his eyes, scars filled his vision. Milky white eyes starring back at him. Peter felt his chest tighten, breath quickening. Taking off his mask, he breathed easier in the stuffy room. The air cooled the perspiration forming on his forehead. 

Lifting his hips, he stabilized on his chest. Removing the other glove, Peter brought two fingers to his mouth, slicking and caressing them with his tongue, ensuring they were adequately wet before bringing them through the seam at the back of his waist, teasing with pressure with familiarity. Peter suppressed sounds in the sheets as his hand pumped around him, sliding easier with the fluid dripping out of him. 

He shouldn’t be doing th- Peter bit his lip, pushing into himself, slipping in easily, giving him enough leverage to find that sweet spot. He let his mouth separate as he followed the pleasure he was now addicted to. He could feel Wade’s weight behind him, grabbing his hips. Thrusting his fingers forcefully, he tightened around them. He could feel Wade all around him. Peter whined, stroking himself harder.  

“Mph, ohh, Wade, ”

His face and neck were hot against the mattress. He wanted to savor every sensation. Every unique depth of aroma. It made Peter feel like he had the best of both worlds. He did not have to feel the pain of rejection while still possessing him. Maybe this was a cruel thing to do, but it was necessary. Irrefutable. For someone like him.

Peter moved his hands in tandem, making him arch his waist low. Spreading his knees further. His thighs stretched with a playful tension as he settled into the fantasy. Letting the small room fill with the sounds that came out of him, accompanied by the contact of slippery squishing. 

Saliva escaped from his parted lips as he envisioned scarred muscles enveloping him. The force of being knocked further into the mattress. 

Peter gripped himself hard up to his tip, releasing it with more precum while he leaned into his fingers. The pressure in his groin tingled throughout his limbs, making them spasm and his toes curl. He filled his hand with spurt after spurt after... Moaning in the successions of his as stars prickled behind his eyelids. 

He barely breathed in relief when he heard a click at the front door. Mortified, he was forced to withdraw from the recovery. His heart lept as he made himself quiet. Thankfully the door to the bedroom was mostly closed. Sparing him a few seconds, hopefully. Looking around the room, Peter held his breath. The bedroom had a window, but Wade would notice if it were opened. 

Hurry 

He was still in an incredibly suspect position with his hand covered in cum. Not a good look when trying to end a hook-up.

Shit shit shitshitshitshit

Peter silently cursed at himself as he creeped up to pick up the gloves and mask of his suit. Why did he let himself get carried away? He heard footsteps enter deeper into the apartment, then stop. 

“Spidey?”

Silence. 

With his “good” hand hovering over his mask on the side of the bed, Peter’s eyes were wide open, lips pressed tightly together, doing his best not to breathe. He heard the footsteps continue and move closer to the bedroom door.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck

In one fell swoop, he grabbed his mask, thwipped his sachel to his chest, and propelled himself onto the ceiling. Pressing his back against the corner above the doorframe. Peter watched The Merc open the door casually and enter the room. 

He was sure Wade could hear the tiny cardiac arrest happening above him. It drummed loudly in Peter’s ears as his eyes never dared to leave the figure below him.

Don’t turn around. Don’t do it.

Peter carefully stuck to the wall for dear life. Seriously regretting picking up his mask with the hand covered in his private perversion. He maneuvered through the top of the door when Wade entered the room further. Calculated. Scanning. The bed was a mess before Peter defiled it, at least. Wade may not notice anything out of place.

With all the agility of a spider, Peter silently passed through the door frame. Making it into the living room, where he saw the window he entered from. Freedom was in his sights. Carefully pulling on his mask, he inched closer to the far side of the room. The proof of his trespass marked clear stains along the ceiling. He noticed two to-go cups on the coffee table.

Sorry

He flinched and wished for the sweet relief of obliteration upon hearing the swift unsheathing of katanas. He was dead. So dead.

Wade was suspicious. Spider-Man attempted to maximize every move if he would survive this embarrassment. Dropping to unhook the latch, he paused to take a glance at the bedroom door. 

Clear.

He opened the window as quickly and silently as he could. Fresh air hit his face. At that moment, his cell phone vibrated loudly.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck

Peter’s stomach dropped to the floor. Never to return. Thwipping through the window with just enough space for his body to pass. 

The fear coursing through him was humiliating, yet he reveled in every second he spent in that apartment.

Chapter Text

The last few days have been awkward. As expected. Dodging calls and not responding to Wade’s texts. Peter could not bring himself to face him after… 

Peter needed to be firm in his decision. At least until he got over him enough to go back to the way things were. 

He should not be thankful for life-threatening emergencies, but they made him feel normal again. Spider-Man thwipped toward a complex that was set ablaze. Arriving in time to see residents still exiting the building as the fire continued to burst, shattering windows. He overheard firemen asking them if everyone made it out when he saw the exact person he was trying to avoid leisurely chatting with, one of the firemen tightening the hose. 

No…why

Just then, his Spider-sense began to spark fiercely. 

Spider-Man thwipped onto the hot bricks of the building above the firemen. 

“We got it from here Spider-Man.” One of them called out. Deadpool’s attention was drawn to him.

“There’s someone inside! Deadpool, take the lower half, and I’ll take the top.”

“Meet you in the middle.”

The two entered the building without hesitation, still snapping with raging blazes. Zipping through a window on the top floor, Spider-Man navigated through smokey hallways, letting his sense guide him. As he swung down floors, the air became more difficult to breathe. The heat becoming more intense toward the center. His senses led him to a floor that was engulfed in aggressive flames. He crawled on the ceiling to avoid the violent area when it gave in. Narrowly avoiding the collapse, he zipped to the end of the hallway to the apartment he was being led to. 

A quick pull of webbing onto the door tore it away. Embers and smoke rushed past Spider-Man as he ran through. The fire had not touched the apartment yet, but the smoke was oppressive. After searching the main rooms, he made it to a bedroom where he found a young teen crouched between a bed and the wall holding her face and coughing.

“C’mon!” Spidey called out, extending his hand. The structure surrounding them crackled precariously. 

The girl lifted her head, eyes wide with tears making black streaks down her cheeks. She cried out, shaking her head from side to side. Too scared to move. After scooping her up, he entered the main room, where he could get her out through the window. 

The floor below him gave way, forcing his leg to the lower level. Dropping the girl, she screamed. Spider-Man felt an intensely sharp pain in his leg. The pain surged down to his toes and up his hip. 

You’ve got to be kidding me…

The level where is leg was trapped was erupting with heat, but he could barely feel the scorching flames as the pain in his leg made him buckle his top half over the floor. Panic setting in, he balled his fists tight as he willed his body to suppress the pain that was demobilizing him. He punched the floor, breaking it away to allow space for his arm to remove what was assaulting him. 

The passage down the building was blocked. Spider-Man could feel the heat escalating as the girl held her head, crying through wheezes.

Dammit, gotta hurry

Spidey continued to punch and pull away pieces of flooring, when his sense alerted him to look up just in time to see debris fall from the ceiling, collapsing to release a large beam heading straight for him. He didn’t feel it when it hit.

~~~~~~~~~~

His throat and lungs were sore as the air came in and out. Spider-Man writhed on his back, attempting to reach for something to regain his bearings. Opening his eyes, it was dark, but it still made his head spin. As he thrashed, he became more conscious and could hear the air leaving him, coming out in pitiful groans. 

He felt a force push him back down onto the hard surface under him, feeling a searing pain flaring up his hamstring. Moving was misery. Not moving was the same. The constant heat of the pain shooting through him made his body shake with agony. The inability to find relief made it much more intense, making his throat constrict and unable to take full breaths.

 Something hovered over his mouth, and he felt small pellets of something enter. He coughed them out, putting him on alert. 

“G’dammit,”

He could make out a figure bending beside him on the floor. When the figure pulled up, he made out clear white eyes looking down at him.

“Swallow ‘em, chew ‘em, whatever. You have to stop moving.”

Recognizing the voice Spider-Man let the capsules hit his tongue and ground them against his molars. The taste was bitter, making him gag. 

Deadpool became clearer as he sat on a stool next to him. He took some items in his hands and made contact as the pain in his knee flared. Spider-Man lashed to get away from it.

“C’mon, man, do you want to bleed out or what? I gotta close this.”

Spider-Man tried to gain control of himself, but the pain was all-consuming. Through the waves, he recollected fire, heat, a girl. 

“The girl… Did she…”

“Alive.”. 

Spider-Man expelled a harsh relief. The guilt of his failure quickly overtook it. She could have died. Would have died if Deadpool had not been there. He would’ve been dead too.

Soon, his body started to feel lighter. The pain in his leg was becoming dull, only feeling mostly tolerable stinging pricks. His body released its immediate tension as his mind drifted and diluted, yet still unable to escape from the swirling of regret and condemnation.

“Sorry,” Spider-Man croaked. 

“For what?” Deadpool said, still concentrating on the wound.

“Everything.” Pitifully, he felt his eyes well.

“...Alright. Looks like the meds are working, finally.”

“Seriously,” Spider-Man licked his lips under the mask. “I can’t, like…do anything. And you're...you like, take care of me. I can't do that, and that’s awwwesome for you.”

“I am pretty awesome.”

Deadpool bit on the string of thread connected to Spider-Man, making a small knot. When The Merc stood up, his face came close to Spidey’s, inspecting. The interface in his mask was broken. It must be something to do with the wide gap in his lens. 

“You’re not gonna like this.” Spider-Man felt a finger move in the seam on his neck and pull up. 

Spider-Man’s hand met the squeak of leather, and he noticed himself shaking. 

A sudden tension rose between them. Spider-Man’s exposed eye met with Deadpool’s. Instinctual clarity and seriousness searing through. They stayed like this for a while. Deadpool watched Spider-Man’s glare at him, eyes turned somber.

Dammit.

Spider-Man was sick. Sick of the fight. Tired of the consequences because of his secrecy. He’s given it so much. Moments and people he can never get back. He was protecting them. The ones that were left. It was all for them. Though part of Peter knew it was for him too. Protecting himself. From the inevitable loss. In every way, he felt the disappointment of his solitary existence expand inside him. Being alone was not enough.

Relaxing his grip and his resolution, he allowed the hand holding his mask to remove it.

Chapter Text

Peter winced, touching his face.

The mirror showed still prominent bruises. Tender, though much less swollen than yesterday. He did not think the wounds were that bad until it had been a couple of days, and they were still there. Looking past his briefs under the oversized shirt, he inspected the back of his leg, The suture was crude but healing nicely. He wondered how he would explain his injuries tomorrow when he went back to campus when he heard his name called from the other room.

He left the bathroom with a slight limp, still nervous about putting too much weight on it. Peter grabbed the steaming bowl on the coffee table and sat on the couch, wiggling his back into the space between Wade’s legs. He felt the removal of a pillow next to him, tossed onto the end of the loveseat.

“Put it under your-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Resting the bowl on the thigh of Wade’s sweatpants as he put the pillow under his knee. He watched as Wade navigated apps on the T.V., He could remember snippets of the shows that had been on for the last couple of days. It all seemed like one long blur after taking the pills Wade would give him.

“So, what’s going on?”

“Well, the two ladies are trying to market dildos for seniors, and there’s a love triangle situation with the dad from The O.C. and one of the Ghostbusters.”

“Right…” Lost, Peter scooped a spoonful of beans and rice with a generous helping of cheese.

After a couple of episodes and belly laughs, Peter had slid cozily between Wade. Resting his forearm on the big muscle cradling him. His hand intertwined with Wade’s as the scarred thumb rubbed the inside of his palm. It was comforting even though it tickled. His arm raised with Wade’s to his face. After a moment, he felt a soft kiss press against his knuckles. Wade’s thumb, now wet and gliding down Peter’s wrist, grazing the nub there.

“Mmm,”

The thumb glided lightly over it. The release of tension when slicking over it made Peter tingle all over his body. Warmth graced the sensitive opening with soft lips. Wet and smooth, they wrapped around the area. Quick sighs motivated the man behind him. He loved it when-

“Haaah”

The pressure from Wade’s tongue slipped over and over the slit. Peter squirmed and arched against him. His pelvis tightened, triggering a pinch in the back of his thigh. He concentrated and followed the even circulating laps. As motions stayed the same, Peter felt them more intensely with every release of tension.

Reflexively, Peter stretched his arm straight. Wade followed it, gripping a little harder and forming a light suction to Peter’s wrist, moving his tongue against the hole quicker. Pressing his fingers into his palm, Peter arched his wrist back, jetting shots webbing onto Wade and the wall behind them.

Peter was straining and dripping through his briefs as relief settled through his forearm. He shimmied against the engorged piece between his shoulders when Wade grabbed Peter's hair, pulling his head back to view watery eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Ready for bed?” Wade purred.

Peter never explained why he had avoided Wade the way he did, and Wade did not pry. The last few days were hazy yet the most content he had felt in a long time. Unconditional acceptance untethered Peter from the shame and guilt he had been forcing on himself. Feeling whole as his body and heart were piecing back together.

He did not know what they were doing or where they were going, but with how Wade was looking at him, the bedroom seemed like a good start.