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[The Room's Hush Hush] {And Now Is Our Moment}

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~~ PETER ~~

What was he doing? His self-control was gone through the window and he didn’t want the night to end – much like Wade, if the arguing was any proof. He’d just wanted to kiss Wade again, to make him feel better, to stop him from spiralling down. And, alright, yeah, he wanted to kiss him for purely lustful and selfish reasons. He hadn’t expected their brief encounter to be so passionate and desperate enough that a bit of rutting against each other would set him off. Either it had been longer than he thought, or he had great chemistry with Deadpool. It probably was a bit of both.

He flinched when Wade’s warm, broad hand, until then gently holding his side, moved slightly so that his fingernail dug harshly into the peak of his nipple, sending a jolt of painful pleasure through his body. He could also feel Deadpool’s hard length against the apex of his thigh, and the guy was really packing something down there. He would have been jealous if he didn’t have the prospect of getting acquainted with it in the near future.

“Fuck, the things you do to me ‘Pool”, he groaned, arching lightly under him.

A high-pitched scream of absolute terror rose into the night and in an instant, Peter was on his feet, hard-on forgotten as his spider-sense tickled faintly. Briskly, he gathered the strewn papers from Weasel’s folders and pushed them in his messenger bag, messily webbed to the roof.

“Want to come with?” he offered, extending his hand to the mercenary.

Wade pulled his own mask down, reminding Peter that his was still rolled up, and nodded.

“Let’s go save the widow and the orphan”, he agreed, sliding his arm around Peter’s waist, the other around his neck.

His swinging was a bit choppy from having only one hand free, but they made it to the scream’s origin quickly and without any problem. Said scream kept on, interrupted by loud sobs and loud calls for “Papa”. From above, they easily saw the little girl – she couldn’t be more than four – standing in the middle of the alleyway gloomily lighted by flickering lights. Not far away, there was a staggering silhouette quickly decomposing, but even more rapidly approaching the screaming child.
Peter’s heart stuttered when he realized they wouldn’t make it in time.

“This doesn’t count”, Deadpool said, and surprisingly fast, he had a gun in hand – his Desert Eagle he had so gleefully boasted about when they’d cleaned up his place – and he pulled the trigger.

The zombie’s head exploded, spraying gore everywhere, and the child only screamed louder – but the zombie had collapsed, dead.

“Drop me down there”, Deadpool said. “Try to find her family.”
“I can handle a child”, Wade countered, “despite what you might think, and we need to clean up ASAP. You’re not immune, as far as we know, whereas I am.”
Peter bit his lip and gave a sharp nod.
“Be careful”, he said, lowering them both and dropping the man in the alley.

He spared a moment to watch, worried, as Deadpool approached the little girl and pulled a piece of cloth from a pouch of his belt, putting a knee down beside her. Reassured, he swung upwards and quickly enough, he found a hysterical young man looking everywhere and calling.

“Spider-Man!” he screamed as soon as he saw him. “My daughter let go of my hand and I can’t find her, and I heard her scream but-”
“Around four, with blonde pigtails and a green dress?”
“Stay where you are, I’ll get her back to you as soon as possible.”
“No, I need to see her! Where is she?”

Peter dropped down and gently grabbed the man’s shoulder. He had blonde hair too, though lighter than his daughter’s, and green eyes.

“Listen, there was an incident and right now it’s dangerous to go this way. My buddy is with her, taking care of her. So stay here, where you are safe, so we can return her to you as quickly as possible.”

He jumped up before the man could protest and made it back to the alleyway where Deadpool was still talking to the little girl. He had her wrapped in a blanket, her dress kicked away, and he’d taken his gloves off to vigorously rub her drenched hair. There was a discarded bucket at his feet, and a pool of water at the kid’s feet.

“Look!” Wade said excitedly, “it’s Spidey! He’ll take you back to your dad now, you’re all clean!”
“Did you seriously dump a bucket-full of water on a child?!” Peter asked as he crawled down, avoiding all splatters of brain matter and blood to grab the child when Wade held her up for him.
“The blood was probably contaminated, so I did the best I could”, Deadpool protested. “It’s not transmitted by contact, that’s what you said, right?”
“As far as I know”, Peter replied, holding the little girl tight. “Are you hurt?” he asked her. “Even if it’s just a scratch, you must tell me.”

She shook her head, and he let out a relieved sigh. She was unlikely to have caught it – the virus acted fast, she would have been dead or nearly, by now.

“You found her family?” Deadpool asked, head tilted aside.
“Her father”, Peter replied. “I’m taking her back to him.”
“Alright”, Wade nodded. “I’ll start cleaning up this place, you don’t want to linger here.”
“Try… not to make too big of a mess, alright?”
“Can’t promise anything, baby boy”, Wade said with a wink, and Peter rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious. An explosion is more likely to spread the virus than to kill it, you want to tread carefully here.”
“I may be crazy but I’m not an idiot, Webs. I’m a biohazard myself, c’mon. Now shoo, her father must be worried sick.”

Peter couldn’t help his smile and he crawled a bit farther up before swinging away, the child holding onto him tightly with her green eyes opened wide. He landed near her father, who ran up to them and hugged his daughter tightly.

“Lena! Doll, never ever let go of my hand again, I was so worried! Are you alright?”

She nodded.

“…Why are you drenched? What happened?!” he asked, looking back to Peter.
“Like I said, there was an incident and she was caught in the middle of it. She got in contact with a biohazard, so my partner did his best to clean her up. I’m sorry about the dress but it was too dangerous, we can’t risk any contamination.”

The man nodded and buried his face in his daughter’s neck, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Thank you, Spider-Man. She’s everything to me.”
“You might want to give her a shower quickly”, Peter replied. “And… maybe consider taking her to a psychologist or something. Things got messy.”

Like a zombie getting his head blown up right in front of her, for example. That wasn’t traumatizing at all. Not so far away, Spider-Man recognized the sound of a muffled explosion. Right. Wade.

“Thank you for the advice”, the man said. “Keep on doing… your hero thing. New York needs you.”

Spider-Man smiled under his mask, saluted and swung away briskly. He could already smell the smoke, and he was surprised no one had called the firefighters yet. He landed as close as he could, the smoke obscuring everything, the warmth of the flames already reaching up to him – along with the cloying smell of burnt flesh that nearly made him gag.

“Deadpool!” he called.
“Hey, Spidey! I, hum, I’m not really visible right now”, Wade’s voice answered from somewhere within the thick, black smoke. “But I’m nearly done!”
“…What do you mean, ‘not really visible’?”
“I mean buck-ass naked”, Wade hollered, “and believe me it’s not sexy.”
“And why aren’t you clothed, pray tell?”
“I’m avoiding contamination, duh. So I’m burning my suit. As well as our corpse and everything that has blood on it.”

Peter couldn’t exactly berate him for his unlikely carefulness, but this seemed a bit over the top.

“While I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the burning corpses activity, you do realize it will be a missing person? And that there will be an investigation?”
“Duh”, Wade answered. “I found his wallet in his pocket. Burnt the wallet, kept the contents in sealed plastic bags and- OW, bitch ass fire- YES YELLOW HOW BRIGHT OF YOU.”
“I’m genuinely impressed”, Peter answered, just as Wade launched said plastic bags, tightly bound, and he retrieved them with a web. “Now, I believe you can come out. Unless you plan to burn alive.”

The absence of answer was all the answer he needed and he took in a sharp breath, now pissed off.

“Don’t worry”, Wade replied, though now he sounded strained. “I’ll be back in no time.”
“I will kick your fucking ass”, Peter yelled. “Don’t move, I’m coming down.”
“Unnecessary! And unadvisable. It’s getting hot in here, though, and despite what I’d like to say, it’s not because of you.”
“Now you’ve done it”, Peter muttered through clenched teeth.

He could see nothing, but he had his hearing and his spider-sense. It’d have to do. Swiftly, he swung into the smoke, closing his eyes when it became unbearable and going in blind. Of course, Wade was standing between two walls of fire, unable to escape without getting burnt. Which he had already, if his laboured breaths and small sounds of pain – so small, in fact, that a normal ear wouldn’t have picked them up – were telling anything. It was surprisingly easy to grab him and haul him up though the grunt of pain, followed by some wriggling to wrench out of his grasp, didn’t exactly help.

They landed on a heap on a nearby roof, and Peter quickly pulled his mask up to clear his lungs. He’d inhaled some smoke, nothing his healing factor couldn’t handle, but it was still deeply unpleasant. He couldn’t imagine how Wade must have felt. He tried to open his eyes, but his tears made his vision so blurry he might as well keep them close.

“I had no intention to flash you like this”, Wade said, sounding worried.
“I can’t see a thing”, Peter replied. “Your modesty is safe.”

Too warm hands grabbed his cheeks, their strange texture making him wonder just how burnt Wade was. Surely he would have screamed a bit more? It had to be painful… Thumbs wiped his tears and he blinked again.

“Keep your eyes close”, Wade said. “Believe me, it’s better that way. For you and for me.”
“I’d offer you my change of clothes back on the roof, but I seriously doubt you’d fit in my pants.”

Wade huffed out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t even fit a leg in it, Webs. However, the jacket would be nice. You wore it better, of course, but if I could not be arrested for exhibitionism, it would be great.” Gently, he took his hand. “Let’s go. No swinging, just parkour. I’ll be your eyes.”

Peter had already noticed how silent Deadpool was when he tried to be, despite the combat boots and flashing personality. But now, it was even more obvious. He could barely hear the sound of his naked feet hitting the ground as they started to run. He hoped they were too high and that it was too dark for anyone to see them, he could already read the Bugle’s headline if they were caught on camera. Luckily, the roof where they had settled wasn’t that far and his eyes burnt a lot less when they got there. He heard Wade ripping his web off and blinked once more, catching a glimpse of a powerful, if very naked, silhouette. He nearly dissolved into laughter when he realised the strange lumps on Wade’s waist and thighs were his belt and his weapons. He had burnt the suit. Not, of course, his precious Desert Eagle.

“Thank you for saving me”, Wade said, much closer now. “You didn’t have to, but you did it anyway…”

Peter reached up to cup his cheek, accidentally poking his chest on the way up, his eyes still running water.

“You’re not dying on my watch, Wade”, he whispered. “Need a lift back home?”
“Nah, I’ll call for my ride. Hurry back to yours, Webs. You need some good shut eye… and a shower. You’re covered in soot.”
“Whose fault is that”, Peter grumbled. “Take care.”

He startled a bit when he felt something against his lips, but almost immediately recognized Wade’s mouth. It was a chaste kiss, over as soon as it had started, and when Peter finally managed to open his eyes, Wade was gone. He picked up his bag and found the plastic bags in it, tucking them safely down the bag before he decided to swing home.

He threw his bag in a corner and stepped into the shower, tugging off his suit there to avoid trailing soot everywhere. The hot water ran in dark rivulets to the drain, as his thoughts wandered back to his strange day. From the pancakes with Wade, to their date to Sister Margaret’s, their making-out on the roofs and the new victim, a lot had happened in one day. The reasonable part of his mind told him he should be focused on finding what was happening exactly, but his thoughts kept on going back to Wade. To his warm kisses and how good it felt. To his coming undone so quickly, blood running hot just at the thought.

He groaned when he realized his thoughts had wandered a bit too far, to the image of Wade’s gloved fingers wrapped around his cock for example, and that he was now horny as hell. Like once wasn’t enough. Thank you healing factor. He glared down at his traitorous dick and thumped his head backward against the wall. There was no going to sleep like this. He thumped his head two more times, weighing his options. Before, taking the matter in his own hands had been an obvious solution. He’d stopped after MJ broke up with him, because he couldn’t get off without imagining it was her, that everything was alright – or not, that they were angrily making up on the pillow. And it hurt too much, the bittersweet pleasure soon more bitter than sweet. He couldn’t think of anyone else, so he’d just… stopped.

But now, there was Wade. There was Wade, and while he’d broken up with MJ a mere three months ago now – three months already? – their sex life had been long dead. He hadn’t gotten laid in at least a year, and strangely enough, its appeal was making itself known again. He wanted – he bit into his fist, wrangling with the thoughts invading his mind. He lusted.

The chime of his phone going off startled him out of his meditative trance and he reached out the horrendous off-white, greying shower curtain for it. It was waterproof, and investment he’d made years ago after he’d realized how often he got tossed in something liquid as Spider-Man. He swiped his thumb on the screen to unlock it: it was a message from Wade. Damn Wade. Lovable Wade.


From: Daddypool.
Thx again for saving my ass out there, Webs.

From: Daddypool.
I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me crazy.

From: Daddypool.
Well. Crazier.

To: Daddypool.
I couldn’t just let you out there to burn. You’re an asshole but you’re a lovable one.
I can’t stop thinking about you either.


He was about to lock the phone and finish taking his shower when it started to ring. The walls were very thin and he berated himself for not simply putting it on silent, and he had to swipe several times before he managed to answer Wade’s call.

“Wade?” he said, and damn he sounded a bit breathy, and the temptation to sneak his hand down was oh so great.
“Baby Boy”, Wade rumbled on the other side of the phone. “You should be sleeping already. What’s taking you so long? Can’t sleep?”
“Shower”, Peter answered, leaning completely against the wall, clenching his fist so it wouldn’t roam south on its own accord.
“Mmh”, Wade answered. “A long shower. Being naughty, Spidey?”

Peter shivered and muttered a curse as his cock twitched from Wade’s voice and words.

“It’s… complicated.”
“Are you having a sexual crisis? Because you seemed pretty confident to me. Allow me to assuage your doubts: you’re definitely into men.”

Peter couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Thanks, Dr. Pool, I knew that already. It’s a… different kind of crisis.”
“Get out of that fucking shower, Spidey. You’ll use up all your hot water and get sick again.”

Peter found himself obeying before he could think about it, which was mildly disturbing. Sometimes, MJ would order him around and he used to love it. But like everything else, it tasted bitter, now. He resolutely pushed the thought of MJ out of his mind and focused on drying himself quickly, breathing sharply when he neared the crotch area.

“Well done, Spidey”, Wade praised him through the phone – he probably could hear the water pouring down and then stopping.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping too?” Peter asked, trying to redirect his attention as he ruffled through his clothes to find a clean pair of pyjama pants.

He thanked himself for making his laundry that afternoon when he pulled on the soft, old grey pants he was wearing down to holes.

“Definitely”, Wade answered. “Webs, you sound exhausted.”
“I am exhausted”, Peter admitted, “but my mind won’t stop working.”
“Damn, Baby Boy, I wish I was there to help you take your mind off things.” There was a pause and he heard the sound of a car door being closed. “Want to tell me more about your crisis?”

Peter felt his heart stop. Talk about MJ and how he’d amazingly fucked things up? How much of a wreck he was? Disclose that the hero Wade adored was nothing but a smoke screen for his useless self?

“No”, he finally blurted out. “N-Not yet, at least.”
“No pressure, Spidey”, Wade answered. “Though you should know that I absolutely don’t mind starring into your fantasies, whatever they may be. Just putting this out there.”

Peter chuckled tiredly.

“Thank you, ‘Pool. I’ll make good use of this permission.”

He heard Wade swear off the phone and the sound of a door closing.

“You’re a menace, you know that?”
“The Bugle did call me a ‘masked menace’, yes”, Peter quipped as he flopped down onto his bed.

He didn’t want to hang up. Tomorrow was a Sunday – well, technically it was already today – and Sundays were The Worst. Because Sundays were the day he would visit Aunt May back when she was alive, a year and a half ago. Because Sundays were the day Uncle Ben died, all those years ago. Because Sunday was the day MJ had finally snapped and told him she’d had enough. Because Sundays were a wretched day he found no use for. He hated Sundays.

“’Pool”, he said softly into the phone, blinking in the dark at his ceiling, “have you ever thought that if you went to sleep and didn’t wake up, it wouldn’t be a bad thing?”

There was a pause, and a long silence, before Deadpool answered.

“All the time”, he answered in the same soft voice. “Why?”
“Tomorrow is Sunday”, Peter answered. “I hate Sundays.”
“What did Sunday do?”
“Take me all the people I loved. I’m so tired, ‘Pool. So tired. I try to keep on fighting, but there’s always a new villain to catch, and sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

There was a rustling at the other hand of the line, and Wade’s voice was softer and clearer when he spoke.

“It’s worth it, Spidey. You saved so many people, people who would never have come back home if not for you. You give hope to a lot of us, including myself. I’ve always looked up to you, you know. I could never be like you, but I would give anything to be as close as someone like me can be. It’s okay to be tired, Webs. But you have to keep on rising again, because that’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is”, Peter replied. “It’s just… so damn difficult, sometimes.”
“For what it’s worth… Spidey, if you went to sleep and didn’t wake up, I’d be devastated.”

Peter didn’t know what to answer to that. It was like he’d been drifting in high water for so long, and finally he had something to anchor himself to, and it was… scary.

“Webs? You still with me?”
“Yeah”, he replied, yawning. “Do you mind staying on the phone while I fall asleep?”
“Not at all”, Wade answered. “Anything you need, Spidey.”
“You’re too nice, Wade.”
“No”, Wade retorted. “You only bring out what few good is left in me. Sleep tight, Spidey.”
“Goodnight, Wade.”

Peter rolled onto his side, face tucked in his pillow, his phone just next to it. The screen told him Wade was still online, and he could hear the soft breathing of the man. Like this, it felt a bit less lonely. He could almost imagine Wade was falling asleep beside him, and the idea was strangely comforting. His lips twitched into a smile, and he slipped into sleep unaware.