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No Ink, No Kink, No Vember

Chapter Text

“What is that?” MJ demanded, grabbing Peter’s left hand and holding it up to her face. They were seated across from each other at the Starbucks closest to Peter’s apartment while MJ was in town for a few days, and it had been… a while since they caught up.

“Oh,” Peter said, feeling his face grow warm. “Um, I got a boyfriend!”

MJ glared at him, and Peter took his hand back, absentmindedly thumbing the silver band on his ring finger. “Right, I guess he’s my fiancée now. It’s still new — the — the engagement, not the relationship! We’ve been dating for, uh, for—” Peter scratched his head, looking out the window to avoid Michelle’s deadly glare.

“Parker,” she said in her no-bullshit tone.

Peter took a deep breath, knowing it would take her no time to do the math. “Six years,” he blurted, watching her worriedly as she sat back in her seat, her face impassive.

“So, did you meet him the minute you enrolled in college, or did you wait for the fall semester to start?” She asked eventually, picking up her Keep Cup and taking a large swig.

“Uh, actually, I may have met him, uh, a-little-bit-before-that,” Peter stuttered out in a quick undertone. “And technically he may have met my, uh, Spider-Pal first.”

“Peter,” MJ said.

“Yes,” Peter replied in resignation, waiting for her inevitable berating.

“You’re tragic.” 

“I’m aware.”

“Does May know? Tony? Ned?” MJ demanded, crossing her arms, and Peter huffed.

“Yeah, MJ, you’re the only person I haven’t seen since he proposed,” Peter said softly, and MJ sat up straighter.

“And what about the six years prior to that?” She fired back, and Peter bit back a sigh, not wanting to argue with her. Things had always been a bit tense between him and Michelle before and during their brief relationship in high school. Nothing improved when they broke up. They were just very different people, and even though they were best friends it wasn’t always easy.

“He’s shy. We met at work, and neither of us really wanted to mix our work and personal lives. When things started getting more serious, we tested the waters with May, which went well. Then we told the team,” Peter said darkly.

“Oh,” MJ said, sounding contrite. 

“Yeah. We fought a lot after that,” Peter said, his eyes burning at the memory. “I didn’t care what they thought, and he cared too much.” 

“You set a date?” MJ asked, perhaps sensing Peter didn’t want to talk about it. She was always good like that. 

“Not yet,” Peter smiled, “Things are really good at the moment. I want this part to last a bit longer.”

“So do I get a name?”

“Wade,” Peter said, still loving the way the name tasted on his lips, even after all those years.

Chapter Text

Wade was lying in bed, Peter half-naked and half-asleep was curled up under his arm. It was a dreary Sunday afternoon, the sky dark and rain pounding against the window.

{You know what’d be funny?}

[Ooh, I know this one! If we put on reruns of The Golden Girls!] 

Guys, not now, Wade pleaded, trying to savour the warmth from his boyfriend pressed against him, breathing lightly on his chest.

{Well, yes, but I was thinking more — pick a fight and walk out.}


No. Wade thought firmly, trying to dissuade his stupid asshole boxes. What could he possibly have to fight with Peter about? 

{The fact that he’s trying to change you. He doesn’t like you the way you are. Who could? No, he wants you to give up your career, to stop the one thing you’re good at.}

[Yeah, that’s right! He’s probably only with you to keep an eye on you! I bet he sees you as a challenge. He’s trying to make the world a better place, and once you’re reformed, he’ll move onto someone else.] 

No, he —

{He’s the kind of guy that does whatever it takes, right? He’ll do whatever it takes to save someone, whatever it takes to stop a life from being lost… Maybe that’s not limited to doing you.}

[Maybe we should just kill him to get him off our back! Slit his pretty throat while he lies there, blissfully unaware, so sweet and soft and trusting — he’d never even see it coming!] 

{Spill his blood and run away. Kill him for holding you back, for lying to you for—}

“Hey, are you alright?” Peter’s soft voice broke through the haze filling Wade’s mind, and Wade realised he was gripping Peter’s waist pretty tightly, and was clenching his teeth. He took a deep breath and relaxed, sending a lazy smile to Peter, who was looking up at him concernedly. 

“Peachy keen, Bambi,” Wade said, and Peter scrunched his cute nose. 

“Bambi?” He said, sounding offended, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement.

“Because of your big cartoon eyes and long gangly limbs,” Wade said, pinching Peter’s thigh through the sheet, and Peter giggled, slapping his hand away.

“I’m lithe, not gangly,” he protested, settling down next to Wade as his fingers traced light, seemingly mindless patterns over the scars covering Wade’s chest.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, watching the rain beating down on the city. After a while, Peter took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. 

“You know — you don’t have to lie or deflect or pretend you’re okay, Wade,” he began quietly, and Wade closed his eyes, not wanting to hear it. “You can tell the boxes to eff off and talk to me, or I can do it for you.”

“Pete —” Wade started with a sigh, but Peter cut him off.

“I love you, Wade. You’re my partner, in here and out there, and you can count on me for anything, okay?” Peter asked, tipping his face up to press a kiss to Wade’s jaw.

“Okay, baby boy,” Wade agreed, pulling Peter closer and wrapping his arms around him. “I love you, too, Pete.” 

“I know,” Peter said brightly, and Wade rolled his eyes fondly.

Chapter Text

“Wade! Wade, hi! Wade, can you hear me? Hello?” 

“Fuck sake,” Wade muttered, looking up from the scope on his rifle to see Spider-Man’s face peering over the edge of the building, three feet away from where Wade was lying on his stomach. “What do you want?”

“Oh, uh! A million dollars? World peace? A kiss?” Spider-Man proposed, hoisting himself over the edge of the building and lying next to Wade, pressing against him from shoulder to waist. 

“Right, well, I’m on a job, and I ain’t giving you any of those things,” Wade grumbled, turning his attention back to his target.

“Oh, but Wade! One of them would be so easy! Please?” Spider-Man practically begged, and nope. If they’d been through this once they’d been through it a thousand times. Wade. Was. Not. Interested. In. Jailbait. Spider-Man. 


“Oh, but do you know what tomorrow is?” Spider-Man asked, practically vibrating next to Wade.

“No, and I don’t care,” Wade said adamantly. He’d known the kid-hero for six months now, and had spent pretty much the entire time trying to avoid any hints of Spider-Man’s private life the hero insisted on throwing at him.

“I think you might,” Spider-Man sing-songed. “I’ll tell you, anyway, it’s my—”

Wade cut him off by tossing aside his rifle, unsheathing his butterfly knife, flipping Spider-Man onto his back, straddling him, and pressing the blade against his exposed throat in less than two seconds flat. 

“I don’t know, I don’t want to know. What I do want is for you to leave me alone, kid,” Wade said gruffly, and big, white bug eyes stared up at him. 

“It’s kinda, uh, hard to leave with you pinning me down. Maybe you should get me off,” Spider-Man said, bucking his hips slightly, effectively shutting Wade’s brain down, “sorry, slip of the tongue. Get off me.” 

Wade couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. This kid had been driving him wild for six months, testing him in every way known.

“I was gonna say tomorrow’s my seventeenth birthday,” Spider-Man said, slowly raising his arms and moving Wade’s blade away from his throat. “Which is the age of consent in New York,” he added needlessly, like Wade hadn’t guiltily Googled that shit ten minutes after meeting Spider-Man and seeing that ass in person and hearing how damn young he sounded. 

After that, he’d decided it was best not to know the kid’s age, and to just Stay Away. If only the kid hadn’t made it so hard — pun definitely not intended (but a happy coincidence nevertheless.)

“Happy birthday,” Wade mumbled, his brain sluggishly kicking into gear as he removed himself from the teenager and returned to lying on his stomach, this time resting his head on his folded arms and peering out over the city instead of looking at his target through the scope. 

“Do you know what I want for my birthday?” Spider-Man asked brightly, poking Wade’s shoulder.

“I’m sure I can guess, but god only knows why,” he sighed, looking back at the kid and pulling his mask off in a last-ditch attempt to scare the kid away. It hadn’t worked any of the other times, so he wasn’t sure why he hoped it would this time.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Spider-Man laughed, before quietly adding, “though I wouldn’t be opposed to that later.” 

“I want you to call me by my name,” the hero took a deep breath, before reaching up and pulling his mask off. “Peter, that is,” he added, giving Wade a crooked smile, his warm brown eyes sparkling mischievously, and his soft, fluffy hair rippling in the evening breeze. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, Peter,” Wade said, causing Peter to blush brilliantly.

He was So Fucking Done with trying to do the right thing. He’d broken plenty of laws in the past — why stop now? Especially when it’d only be illegal for the next six-and-a-half hours.

Chapter Text

“W-Wade,” Peter said timidly, worried his teammate was going to snap at him again.

“What?” Wade said tersely, and Peter flinched.

Wade was trudging through the snow a few paces ahead of Peter, and though the snow and surrounding forest gave the illusion of a permanent twilight, Peter could tell it was starting to get darker.

“I — I d-don’t know how-how much l-longer I c-can—” 

“I know, okay!” Wade growled, and Peter clenched his chattering teeth. 

They’d been walking for hours, since the helicopter crashed. There hadn’t been time to send a distress signal, and they’d tried to save the SHIELD pilots, but…

They were meant to be heading north for a recon mission, completely off the radar. No one would be expecting to hear from them for another two days, no one would know they were missing, in the middle of the woods without food, water, or comms.

Their only potentially saving grace was that Wade thought he recognised this patch of wilderness and thought he might be able to locate an old rangers cabin that, if nothing else, would at least provide shelter, but they’d been walking for hours to seemingly no end.

Even with the combat boots and coat Peter had guiltily stolen from the lifeless SHIELD agent, his toes had long since lost feeling.

This was how Spider-Man would die.

He wouldn’t be stomped by Rhino, or hunted by a disgruntled former employee of Tony’s; he’d just freeze solid and stop breathing.

“Wait, Pete,” Wade said, his whole demeanour shifting as he took longer, quicker strides up the slight incline. “This cliff — in the summer there’s a small river in the valley down there, if we keep following the ridge north the cabin shouldn’t be much further, okay?”

“‘Kay,” Peter mumbled, stumbling slightly as he joined Wade on the edge of the frozen cliff. “I just need t’rest f-for a mo’,” Peter swayed, and Wade steadied him. 

“No, no, we gotta keep moving, Webs,” Wade said gently, “C’mon, it’s another half-mile at most, alright?” 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, his head fuzzy and his vision blurring. “Half-m-mile…” 

Peter let out a yelp of surprise as Wade quickly scooped him up and started marching on with Peter lying bridal style in his arms. 

“Wuh-what?” Peter shook his head slowly, before patting Wade’s chest. “Okay, then, I’m g-gonna take a nap n-now.”

“No, don’t do that! Uh, what’s that stupid geek show you’re always trying to get me to watch? Tell me about that again,” Wade said loudly, and Peter flinched.

“‘M not so cold now,” Peter said, resting his head on Wade’s shoulder. “Think I’m gonna be fine.”

“Pete? C’mon, Pete, talk to me, kid! Are — are you —? Look, there it is!”

Wade sounded distant, and the last thing Peter noticed was bouncing around in Wade’s arms as the merc started jogging. 

 Peter startled awake, overheated and sweating.

Sitting up, he pulled a face as he discarded the smelly, moth-eaten blankets draped over his body. He’d been stripped to his boxers, ridding him of his damp, freezing clothes.

He was in a small, one-room shack with a fireplace roaring opposite the rickety bed he was sat on, and next to that, Wade was fiddling with an ancient ham radio on an even older table. 

“Wade?” Peter croaked, and Wade jumped up, hurrying to his side. 

“Oh, thank god you’re awake, I thought you were gonna die!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Peter snorted, checking his toes. They were all still there — a bit red from the cold, but otherwise seemingly fine. “Did you get that working?” Peter asked, jerking his head over to the radio.

“Yeah,” Wade nodded, looking contrite. “Doesn’t have the range or, uh, security clearance to reach any of our buddies, but the parks department is going to send someone up at dawn, which is only a few hours away.” 

“Okay. That’s good. Thank you for, y’know. Thanks for taking care of me, Wade,” Peter said, pulling Wade into a hug. They weren’t really all that close, and disagreed on a few fundamental morals, but, really, Wade wasn’t such a bad guy.

“Well, we got some time to kill, Webs,” Wade said, returning the hug and slowly sliding his hands down his back. “How’s about you thank me properly?”

Scratch that, Peter thought almost fondly, pulling away and lightly punching Wade’s shoulder, he’s unbearable.

Chapter Text

“Gosh darn this dang bed,” Peter growled, angrily shoving the slats away as he tried to make sense of the drawn instructions. The instructions weren’t written step-by-step, it was literally just a drawing of how everything fitted together, with letters from the alphabet corresponding to each piece of wood and each screw. Not helpful.

“I am a biochem major. I built my own webshooters. I have deconstructed and rebuilt my whole Stark Suit. I can put together a flingin’ flangin’ bed,” he raged to himself in an ineffectual pep-talk.

He’d already been at it for an hour and was close to tearing his hair out. Yes, it was all well and good that the small screws were labelled ‘A’ on the instructions, but were they the small screws, or the really small screws? Because the screws themselves didn’t have any letters on them! 

“Eff this,” he grumbled, pulling out his phone and calling Wade.

“What’s up my precious little bumble-bee?” Wade answered brightly, and Peter bit back a sigh.

“You broke my old bed,” he said through clenched teeth, “you can come over here and build my new one.” 

“Now, I seem to recall we both had a part in the breakdown of your former sleeping arrangements,” Wade said slyly, and Peter so was not in the mood. 

“Just — can you come over? Please? And bring beer because I’m about to have a mental breakdown.”

“Sure, sweetums, I’ll be there in a minute,” Wade said before disconnecting the call.

Sure enough (and somewhat unbelievably) Wade was letting himself into Peter’s apartment just over a minute later.

“Drink up, punch-buggy,” Wade said, handing the six-pack of cans to Peter, “daddy’s got some work to do.”

Peter rolled his eyes and cracked open a beer, leaning against the bedroom doorframe as Wade sat on the floor and glanced over the instructions. 

“Right,” Wade nodded to himself, grabbing the hex key and a handful of screws in one hand, a long two-by-four in the other, and setting to work.

Peter watched in amazement as Wade quickly assembled his bed, the whole thing put together in less than half an hour.

“Are you kidding me?” Peter asked, waving his empty beer can towards the completed structure as Wade gently pulled down the mattress from where it was resting against the wall and lined it up on the bed frame. “I was tearing my hair out for more than an hour, and you just throw it together like that?” 

“Impressed?” Wade grinned, wiggling his hairless eyebrows.

Peter wanted to be pissed. He wanted to feel embarrassed, and useless. But.

“Yes,” He said fervently.

“Want to break it in?” Wade offered.

“Definitely!” Peter agreed, tossing his can in the recycling and halfway pulling off his shirt before hesitating. “Only — only not literally. I can’t go through that again.” 

Wade just laughed, the smug bastard.

Chapter Text

“Wade, where are we going?” Peter asked as Wade drove through the easing mid-morning traffic. Peter had a rare day off, and Wade had woken him up early to take Ellie out for breakfast before dropping her off at school, and then taking him on a secret errand.

“You’ll see — we’ll be there in a few minutes,” Wade said happily, and Peter eyed him suspiciously.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t tell me,” Peter grumbled. 

“Because that would ruin the surprise!”

“You know I don’t like surprises,” Peter pouted, and Wade laughed.

“Yes, but Ellie does, and I didn’t want you to be a spoilsport,” Wade said, and Peter gasped, offended.

“I would never ruin anything for Ellie!”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it! Keep that in mind, because we’re here,” Wade said as he pulled into a small parking lot next to a dreary, old building.

“Wade,” Peter sighed, reading the chrome sign on the front of the building. “Why are we at an animal shelter?” Peter asked, having a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Because Ellie’s always wanted a Husky, and one’s just come up for adoption!” Wade beamed, heading inside with Peter reluctantly following, bad feeling confirmed.

Wade confidently walked up to the reception desk and hit the bell on the counter three times, despite the volunteer worker watching his approach. “I’ll have one of your finest Huskies, please!”

“Oh, were you enquiringly about Misty?” The receptionist asked, her name tag reading Grace. “She’s already been re-homed.”

“Oh,” Wade said, his face falling.

“Well, that’s great! Hopefully she’s with a nice family that understands how much of a big responsibility and lifestyle change dog ownership can be,” Peter said pointedly, tugging the sleeve of Wade’s jacket.

“We’ve still got thirteen dogs out the back if you wanted to meet any of them,” Grace offered.

“No, we’re good,” Peter said, “aren’t we Wade?”

“Wait,” Wade said, “do you know if any other shelters around the city has any Huskies?”

“I don’t, I’m sorry,” Grace said, looking genuinely apologetic. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the door behind her open, and out stepped another woman in purple scrubs, holding a tiny kitten.

“Grace, she’s a bit underweight but other than that she’s perfectly healthy. Will you take some photos and get her profile up on the website? I’ll keep an eye on her, but she should be available for adoption in another two weeks,” the vet said, placing the kitten on the desk next to Grace.

“Oh, my god,” Peter huffed, peering over the counter at the kitten who was boldly sniffing at the keyboard as Grace stroked it with one finger. The kit was grey, with white paws and a white face, chest, and underbelly. “Oh, my god, I love her!” Peter said quietly, reaching over the counter to pet the kitten. “Wade! Wade, can — can we take her home? Please? Look at her! Can I hold her?” Peter asked the vet, who nodded with a smile.

Peter scooped the cat up with one hand and cradled her to his chest, pressing a kiss to her tiny forehead and looking up at an unimpressed Wade. “Look at her! Look at this little baby! Ellie likes cats too! And cats are so much more independent than dogs! Once she’s litter trained, she’ll be fine! We won’t have to walk her, she can stay at the house on her own for long periods of time, and she’s so tiny! Please, Wade?” Peter asked, gently handing the kitten to Wade to hold. Wade carefully took her in both hands and held her up to his face.

“Don’t put this one up on the website,” Wade advised Grace. “We’ll adopt her.”

“Yes!” Peter cheered quietly, not wanting to startle the kitten who had taken to licking Wade’s nose.

“And we’ll name her Husky,” Wade said, giving Peter A Look. 

“That’s a terrible name for a kitten, but sure,” Grace said. “We’ve got some forms you’ll need to fill out, and we’ll have to do an assessment on your home — but we won’t list her online, and if everything goes well you can take her home in two weeks.”

Peter gave the kitten one last kiss and let the vet take her out the back while Wade filled out the relevant forms and grumbled about manipulative boyfriends.

Chapter Text

“Webs, you good?” Wade called as Spider-Man doubled over in pain.

“Yeah, I’m —” Spider-Man gasped before collapsing onto the sidewalk. Wade fired three rubber bullets at the schlong-bag that got Spider-Man and went to check on his friend.

It had been such a normal night. Honestly!

He’d been out patrolling — had to lecture some youths on jaywalking with their faces in their phones, had scare off some rats that looked like they were plotting to rob the pizzeria, y’know, typical stuff — and hoping to run into Spider-Man. Because they were pals! And what’s the point of patrolling and doing good if Spider-Man wasn’t around to be impressed?

[Spider-Man isn’t impressed by you. He barely tolerated you.] 

“Mind yer business, White,” Wade grumbled, kneeling beside Spider-Man and rolling the hero so he was lying on his back. He leaned over the prone body and listened for breathing, and nodded to himself when he heard the slow, steady rhythm of someone asleep — or knocked out.

He’d found Spider-Man not long ago, and the pair had continued their patrolling together — even if it was somewhat reluctantly on the hero’s part. Whatever, Wade wasn’t exactly used to warm welcomes. 

As they hit the streets closer to midtown, they ran into a dude dressed like a wizard. Like, blue-robes-with-yellow-stars wizard. With a pointy hat, and a black plastic wand.

“Hey, man, Hogwarts is about three-thousand Miles that way,” Wade called, and Spider-Man made a noise that he tried to turn into an impatient sigh, but was obviously closer to a chuckle.

The wizard had turned around with a wild, angry look in his eye and pointed his wand straight at Wade, shooting a jet of purple light. Spider-Man, being the stupid, self-sacrificing hero he was, knocked Wade out of the way and was hit in the stomach. 

Then, rubber bullets, checking Spider-Man’s alive — you’re all caught up.

[You’re a terrible storyteller. You should start your stories at the beginning. Work in chronological order, please.] 

“Fuck your chronological order,” Wade growled, standing and walking over to where the wizard was moaning in pain on the pavement. “What did you hit him with?” 

“Fucked if I know, man,” the wizard cried, “I don’t know how to use that thing!”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Wade sighed, kicking the idiot in the head and knocking him out. Before he could decide his next course of action, he heard Spider-Man stirring behind him.


“Yeah, I’m here, Webs, how’re you feeling?” Wade asked, rushing to kneel by Spider-Man’s side, his hands hovering over his injured friend.

“Good,” Spider-Man said, slowly sitting up, “really, really good…”

“Uh, that’s great? The dickbag over there hit you with something, are you sure you feel okay?” Wade said, glancing over his shoulder at the wizard still lying unconscious on the street. 

“I’m fine,” Spider-Man said, grabbing Wade’s shoulders roughly and pulling him close, “I feel better than ever, Wade! I’m so glad you’re here — god, I want you to be with me all the time!”

“Uh, since — since when?”

“Since about three weeks ago, when I realised I was in love with you!” Spider-Man said, reaching up for his own mask.

“Nope, don’t want to be doing that,” Wade said, batting his hand away and ignoring what Spider-Man had said. The hero had always been very secretive about his identity, and Wade didn’t want whatever mind-whammy the wizard freak had hit him with to ruin that for him, especially when he was spouting nonsense like being in love with Wade. 

“Oh, but I do!” Spider-Man said earnestly. “I’ve wanted to show you for a while, but I was too nervous, afraid you’d reject me, but damnit Wade I love you and I want the whole world to know!”

“Okay,” Wade said, standing and running his hands over his masked head, thinking, “okay. We need to get you checked out. Whatever that guy did to you is obviously messing with your head, I mean it’s almost like —” 

{A love spell?}

[Don’t be stupid, Yellow.]

“He’s got a point,” Wade said quietly, not noticing Spider-Man sliding up beside him. 

“Wade, will you be my boyfriend? I promise I’ll be good to you. I’ll take you on dates and give you massages, and blow you under the table in fancy restaurants,” Spider-Man said sweetly, his bug eyes looking up at Wade, whose brain was short-circuiting.

“Uh, maybe later,” Wade said, strangled. “Right now we’ve gotta find out how to get you back to normal.”

“Normal?” Spider-Man asked, running his fingers gently down Wade’s arm before linking them with Wade’s. 

“Yeah, like when you ignore-slash-yell at me,” Wade said, distracted. Iron Douche would be no good. He’d probably blame Wade and blast him out of the tower. Weas’d be no help either — he was useless at the best of times. Banner and Richards were scientists, and a soft maybe, but the wizard’s hit almost seemed like… 

{It’s definitely magic.}

[It’s not magic.]


[If it were.]

[Bleecker Street…] 

{That’s all I’m sayin’!} 

“I’m sorry, Wade,” Spider-Man said, sounding distraught. “God, I’m so sorry for the way I treated you. I was trying to distance myself, but I can’t do it anymore. I love you, and I want to be with you!” 

“That’s great, baby boy, but first let’s get you checked out by Sherlock, okay?” Wade said, having already pulled out his phone and ordered an Uber. As the car pulled up, he stopped by the unconscious wizard and picked up the wand — just in case it would be any use to Strange, if not, at least, so it didn’t hurt anyone else.


It took twenty minutes of arguing to get Wong to even allow Wade to step foot into the Sanctum. Which, okay, every other time he’s been here, he broke something. But this time he’s arriving with something broken, so the chances of him breaking something else are…

[Still exceptionally high.]

Anyway. It didn’t help that Spider-Man was arguing that he didn’t need help, that he was fine.

Eventually, Spider-Man ended up lying flat on his back on a table while Strange moved around him, reading his aura or some shit, while Wade stood back, watching anxiously. Whatever his friend was hit with must’ve been bad if he thought he was in love with Wade.

“It’s just a simple simpel spell,” Strange said with a small shrug after a few minutes. “A case of bewitchment or enchantment, very low level magic.”

“It’s not magic, I’m just enchanted by Wade,” Spider-Man sighed dreamily, cutting his masked gaze over to Wade. Wade looked at the doctor helplessly. 

“It should wear off by morning — I’d recommend sleep. Wong will show you out,” Strange said, leaving with a swish of his cape.

“Subtle,” Wade said, watching Spider-Man sit up and swing his legs off the table, holding out his hand for Wade. Wade hesitated for a moment before taking his hand and following Wong through the atrium to the front door, feeling like even simple hand-holding was taking advantage of Spider-Man in his current state. 

Wong saw them out without any fanfare, and on the quiet street Wade turned to Spider-Man. “So, the doc ordered sleep. We should probably call patrol early, and you can head on home, li’l Spider,” Wade said in his best authoritative tone. Calling the shots wasn’t really his thing when he was with Spider-Man; he was usually the one being told what to do.

“No, Wade, I’ve already wasted so long not being with you, I cant stand another minute!” Spider-Man said, jumping onto Wade and wrapping his legs around Wade’s hips. “Take me back to your place?”

“I can’t fucking deal with this,” Wade muttered to himself, placing his hands gently on Spider-Man’s waist, “Fine, you can come to my place and crash on the couch or whatever.”

“Yes! Thank you, Wade,” Spider-Man wrapped his arms around him and cling to him like a baby koala as Wade stated the short walk to his closest safe house.

“Can I show you my secret identity when we get back?” Spider-Man asked politely. “I know you said no before, but I’d really like to tell you, if that’s okay.”

“How about we reassess in the morning, okay?” Wade offered, knowing Spider-Man would probably be out the window as soon as he woke. 

“Alright!” Spider-Man agreed cheerfully. 

At the apartment, Spider-Man let go of Wade so he could get the keys out and unlock the door. 

“This is a really nice place, Wade,” Spider-Man said sounding awed as Wade led him into the apartment and turned on the lights. “My place is small. And cold. And it smells damp.” 

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here whenever you like,” Wade said lightly, grabbing some spare blankets and pillows from the linen closet — yeah, he had a linen closet! — and dumping them on the couch. “It’s pretty comfy, I’ve slept there a few times when I was too lazy to go to bed. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen; don’t wake me up unless you’re dying.” 

“Okie dokie!” Spider-Man said, pressing a masked kiss to Wade’s masked cheek. “G‘night Wade, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

“Can’t wait, sweetums,” Wade said retreating to his bedroom and closing the door with a sigh. All he’d ever wanted from Spider-Man was happening, but it wasn’t real. Fuckin’ typical.

It took Wade a long time to fall asleep.


When Peter woke, it took him a long minute to realise where he was, and remember what had happened.

He sat up and rolled his mask over his nose. It wasn’t the first time he’d slept in his whole suit, but it sucked every time he did.

“You’re up early,” Wade said from behind him, and Peter yelped.

“Holy crap, Wade, warn a guy?” He chastised, pressing a hand over his wildly-beating heart and taking a deep breath.

“Actually, I expected you to be gone by now,” Wade said casually, turning his back on Peter and walking into the kitchen. 

“Yeah, I figured I owed you an explanation,” Peter grit out. He wasn’t happy about this — he would’ve been more content living his life in warm, sunny denial, but after being hit by whatever magic the loser dressed as a wizard conjured up and confessing his love to Wade, the least he could do would be to own up and move on, because he knew Wade would probably be feeling pretty shitty right about now.

“Nah, it’s cool Webs. Don’t listen to the drunk guy, or the guy that got his by a love spell, right?” Wade called over the sound of pots and pans clanging as he evidently searched for  the right one. “Want some pancakes before you head off?” 

“No, I —” Peter groaned and joined Wade in the kitchen. He obviously wasn’t going to make this easy on Peter. “I want you to know it wasn’t a love spell. That guy didn’t make me fall in love with you, okay, Wade? You did that.”

Peter pulled off his masked and watched Wade carefully as the merc turned and looked at him, his own mask hiding his reaction.

“I did what?” Wade asked, cocking his head.

 “You made me fall in love with you,” Peter chuckled sheepishly. “You made it as easy as falling asleep.”

“I’m terrible at falling asleep, I toss and turn for hours,” Wade said, and Peter rolled his eyes. “What’s your name, cutie?” 

“Peter,” he said, blushing. “Peter Parker.”

“Alliteration alliance!” Wade gasped excitedly, and Peter laughed.

He hadn’t intended to fall for Wade, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

Chapter Text

Peter was lying on his back on the balcony of Stark Tower, a fancy throw cushion from the couch behind his head. He’d been out here since sunset, and he was starting to get cold, but he wasn’t moving. 

“Whatcha doin’ out here?” 

Peter looked over to find Wade standing in the doorway. He’d thought we was at the Tower alone; everyone else on various missions while Peter was stuck in New York for exams.

“Study break,” Peter said, his gaze flickering back to the sky. If he really concentrated, he could see the faint twinkling of a few stars through the smog and light pollution. “You?”

“Trying to get some peace and quiet,” Wade said, tapping his forehead, and Peter frowned.

“Hey, White and Yellow — shut up and leave him alone,” Peter said, hoping it would help. He didn’t really know what else he could do.

“Ugh, you are just too cute,” Wade said, lying down beside him. 

“I try,” Peter smiled faintly. “Why are they giving you a hard time today?” 

“The usual,” Wade said evasively.

“Oh,” Peter said, definitely lost as to how he could help if Wade wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. “Well, don’t listen to them. Listen to me. I think you’re really great. You help people, Wade. You’re a hero. And, like, my best friend. So listen to me, not your mean old boxes.” 

“I’m your best friend?” Wade asked, and Peter rolled onto his side so he was facing Wade. He looked disappointed for a moment, before snorting. “That’s really sad, Webs.”

“How is that sad?” Peter asked, rolling his eyes. “You’re funny, and kind, and you make the best pancakes, and I mean, look at your physique, like —” Peter stopped talking abruptly as Wade gave him a funny look. “Oh. I think I’m having an epiphany.”

“If the goat had a longer tail he could wipe the stars clean,” Wade offered, and Peter laughed.

“Wade, no,” he said, reaching up and gently resting his hand against Wade’s scarred cheek. “I think I’ve got a massive gay crush on you,” Peter said, smiling.

“Oh, my god,” Wade gasped, “sounds like it matches my massive gay crush on you!”

“Good,” Peter grinned, leaning in and gently pressing his lips against Wade’s.

Chapter Text

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t Peter’s best idea. But he really wanted Wade to like him! Which was dumb in and of itself.

He shouldn’t be actively seeking the approval (or friendship) of a known mercenary. He should be calling the cops, or wrapping him up nice and neat for the X-Men to deal with.

Yet, here he was, swinging towards their predetermined meet-up point, with an extra pair of webshooters in the lining of his suit so Wade could try his hand and webslinging.

He spotted Wade waving him down and grinned, joining him on the rooftop.

“Spidey! I was begginin’ to think you’d stood me up!” Wade said with an audible pout.

“I’d never do that,” Peter said, maybe a little too impassioned if the look Wade gave him was anything to go on. Anyway. “I’ve got something for you!”

Peter pulled out the webshooters and tossed them to Wade, who caught them effortlessly, his masked face lighting up as he instantly recognised the tech. “Seriously?” He asked, sounding amazed. 

“Yeah, I thought I’d give you a loan, and we could swing around a bit — y’know, just for fun, before patrol,” Peter said sheepishly. He’d never entertained the idea of sharing his tech with anyone in the past, but Wade was — well, he was just Wade.

“Man, this is the coolest thing ever!” Wade said, sliding the webshooters over his wrists and lining up the buttons with the centre of his palms. “Just like a gun, right? Point and shoot?”

“Pretty much,” Peter shrugged, lifting his wrist and demonstrating, sending a line of webbing across to the next building over. “Just — please be careful, okay? I know you’ll heal from any injury, but I still don’t want you to hurt yourself, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Wade said distractedly, copying Peter and firing a trail of web to the building across the street, only he caught his. “Well, here goes nothing,” he said taking a running leap off the building and swinging low towards the street. 

“Oh, my god,” Peter muttered to himself, half a second of doubt and regret entering his mind before swinging after Wade, keeping an eye on the merc as he shot another web to the building on his left and continued swinging through the street.

Wade had surprisingly good form, considering it was his first time. The way he plummeted towards the ground, only catching himself and swinging upwards at the very last second made Peter nervous, but he navigated the buildings and crowded streets of Manhattan with ease, Peter swinging behind him at a loose follow.

Once Peter was sure Wade had the hang of it, he couldn’t help but up the stakes. He caught up to Wade easily, calling out over the rushing wind, “first one to the Flat Iron is the winner!”

“You’re on, baby boy!” Wade called back, and Peter felt his stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with his freefall.

It was a close race, and Peter had no idea how Wade managed to pull ahead when he’d only had half an hour of practice, but Wade was already waiting for him when Peter arrived on the roof of the Flat Iron Building. 

“Jeez, Spider-Man, swing much?” Wade teased, and Peter shook his head fondly.

“Beginner’s luck,” he insisted, and Wade laughed.

“Well, I’m the clear winner, so what’s my prize?” Wade asked, and Peter faltered.

“Oh, uh,” he hadn’t thought this far ahead, but the adrenaline was making him feel bold, and he couldn’t really help what came out of his mouth next. “How ‘bout a kiss?”

“What?” Wade choked, and for a second Peter’s heart stopped because he he genuinely thought Wade could possibly return his feelings — between the flirting and the pet names and the general disregard of Peter’s personal space. “Yeah, uh, that’d be — that’d be great,” Wade said with an air of forced indifference, and Peter grinned. 

“You’ll have to roll your mask up,” he instructed gently as he lifted the bottom of his own mask.

“Right,” Wade said distractedly, nodding his head before rolling up his mask.

Wade’s scars looked undoubtedly painful, so Peter was gentle when he cupped his cheeks and leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss against his chapped lips. 

“That — did that just happen?” Wade asked when Peter shyly pulled away.

“Yes,” Peter said, fairly confident that did, in fact, just happen.

“Because I almost missed that last shot and could’ve ended up as a pavement pancake,” Wade warned, and Peter let out an accidental laugh, despite the grim mental image.

“No, you’re alive, and that really happened. Was, uh, was that okay?” Peter asked, “Because it doesn’t have to mean anyth — oof!” He cut off as Wade’s lips crashed into his, their second kiss dirtier and far more intimate than the first. 

Chapter Text

Peter didn’t realise he was forming a habit until it was too late.

His usual habits were fine — wake up, brush teeth, go to work, work, come home from work, change into his Spider suit, patrol. What happened after he left for patrol was where the problems began.

It all started a few weeks prior when he’d run into Deadpool for the first time. Of course, he’d heard many descriptions of the mercenary in the past.

“Bit of a loner,” Steve had warned. “Crazier than a sackful of cats.”

“Don’t. Just stay away. Run in the opposite direction,” Tony had said

“If you see him, bring him to me’n I’ll gut that asshole, murderin’ piece’a—” Logan had trailed off with some choice, grumbled expletives.

And then he’d actually met Deadpool. Or, Wade, as he’d introduced himself after gasping and dropping to his knees to kiss the pavement at Peter’s feet — his mask hopefully saving him from god-knows-what on the city sidewalk. 

He was definitely odd, but funny, and he bought Peter tacos and promised not to kill anyone while he was in town, so Peter couldn’t really fault him.

Then Wade had asked to join him on patrol, and Peter didn’t have any good reason to tell him no, especially when he looked so hopeful.

So now Peter met Wade every night for patrol. Well, Spider-Man met Deadpool. It was a thing, but also kind of an accident. They met, they patrolled, they ate, they dispersed. It wasn’t really agreed upon or talked about, but it happened every night without fail. 

“I’m sensing a pattern,” Peter said by way of greeting when he spotted Wade on one of the rooftops the pair frequented.

[I’m sensing lazy writing.] 

{I don’t think she’s being lazy, I think she’s just practising and is doing the best with what she’s got!} 

“Guyz, not our P-O-V!” Wade snapped suddenly, before turning to Peter. “So this pattern you’re sensing, is it your ~Spidey Sense~ or 🅱️eter Tingle?” Wade asked, and Peter balked because Wade didn’t know his secret identity, did he? 

“Uh… I just mean, we’ve got a — a thing going on,” Peter said with a board gesture. 

[This is like every other Spideypool fic but worse. Just give up, it’s tedious.] 

{Time of death: 21:03. Go back to watching Grey’s Anatomy.}

“It’s still not our point of view, but I like where this is going,” Wade said, seemingly to himself. “What kind of thing do we have going on?” He leered at Peter, which. Should not be possible with the mask. 

“A working, heroing thing,” Peter shrugged.

“If this is like every other Spideypool fic does that mean you’re going to dramatically reveal your identity after a considerable period of mutual pining?” Wade asked, sounding hopeful, and Peter was officially lost. 

“Who’s pining?” He asked, but more importantly — “No, I’m not going to dramatically reveal my identity! Although, I mean, I guess I can do it normally, without drama. We’ve been doing this for a while now and I guess you’re as trustworthy as any of the other various heroes and anti heroes and vigilantes that know my identity,” Peter took a moment of anxious silence to mourn the loss of his secret identity to no less than twenty-six people. “How did you know about the Peter Tingle?” 

“Multiverse,” Wade said easily, like it explained everything. 

“And what about Sp — what did you call it? — Spideypool fic and mutual pining?”

“I mean,” Wade said with a put-upon sigh, like Peter was the one mindlessly spouting nonsense. “Tonight goes one of two ways — one: we have the dramatic secret identity/ugly face reveal and make out and maybe bang depending on the author’s prudeishness.”

“Okay,” Peter said, feeling a headache coming on. “Okay. Well, what’s option two?” 

“We go about our night as normal, and then in a few weeks, or months (or if the author is really good/mean, years) we’ll have the dramatic secret identity/ugly face reveal and make out and maybe bang depending on the author’s prudeishness,” Wade said, matter-of-fact. 

“So either way, we, uh, we — y’know,” Peter said, thankful his mask was hiding his blush.

“That’s the pattern, baby boy,” Wade said cheerfully. 

“Well,” Peter said decisively, “let’s not bother with patrol tonight. It sounds like we’ve, uh, we’ve got other stuff to. Y’know. Talk about.” 

[Fuck yes.] 

{Heck yeah!} 

“Yeah, that’s — that sounds good from my point of view,” Wade said.

Chapter Text

Peter was in a Mood.

It wasn’t a Very Good Mood.

In fact, he thought as he hit his blaring alarm clock just a smidge too hard and it crumpled under his inhuman strength, it might even be considered a Bad Mood. 

He’d spent the night huddled in the foetal position under every blanket he owned, stiff as a board, conscious that moving even a quarter-inch would mean part of his body would officially be outside of the warm spot he’d created and he’d surely freeze to death.

He did not sleep very well. His nose was numb and his throat hurt from the cold of his apartment.

And if his apartment was this cold — boy, oh boy was he dreading going outside.

So, he was cold. He maybe had the beginnings of a head-cold. And the reason his alarm was blaring and consequently squashed, was that he had to go into work. To the Bugle. To be yelled at, and derided, and earn peanuts. 

He was just. Over it. 

He was sick of getting up every morning and going to a job he hated. He was sick of being cold, even though winter was barely starting. He was sick of not having the money to afford a better apartment, or the electricity bill he’d receive if he were to purchase a space heater. 

So, Bad Mood.

One of those terrible, horrible, no good, very Bad Moods that he could already tell was going to stick around all day. 

Peter got out of bed, his thick socks barely forming a barrier between the cold floor and his feet, and he listlessly got ready for work. At least the Spider-Suit offered an extra layer of warmth, he thought as he pulled his work clothes over the suit he almost always wore.

He checked his barren cupboards and refrigerator just in case the food fairies had worked their magic overnight, but of course, there was nothing, so he braced himself for the biting cold and left his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

His Bad Mood persisted as he navigated the sidewalk, which was annoyingly more crowded than usual. Maybe that was because Peter left a little later than normal, wanting to retain the relative warmth of his bed for a little longer. His apartment wasn’t too far from the Bugle building, but he was still a few blocks away when he heard a scuffle breaking out in a narrow lane-way a few yards behind him.

He stopped dead in the middle of the pathway, causing a native New Yawker to grumble and call him a tourist, but he didn’t care. He was trying to listen to see if someone was actually in trouble. 

He couldn’t really afford to be late to work again, he’d already been reamed once this month when he’d stopped a kidnaping. The story he’d then had to write on the incident painted Spider-Man himself as the kidnaped, which was just.

Anyway, he wasn’t going to let anyone get hurt when he could do something, sh he quickly dove into the next lane-way and pulled on his mask, before webbing his back-pack and civilian clothing to a nearby fire escape. He quickly scaled the building and headed south, back towards the lane-way where he’d first heard the disturbance, hoping he hadn’t taken too long. 

He dropped into the middle of the lane-way and spotted a young woman pointing a gun at a man dressed in a business suit, briefcase in one hand and a bag of crystal meth in the other. 

“Aw, man, you guys didn’t invite me to the drug deal? I’m hurt, guys, really, I am! I’m a lot of fun at these kinds of parties!” Peter said, webbing the gun out of the woman’s hand before she’d even registered he was there, and sending another web, securing her to the brick wall behind her.

“Get this shit off me!” She yelled, spittle flying out of her mouth at a distance that would impress even Jameson.

“Not when you just were holding that gun to my good friend, Mr. Drug Dealer, here,” Peter said, turning to web the guy to the other wall, but hesitating when he noticed a gun pointed at him. 

Damned Spider-Sense hadn’t even warned him! This, right here, this is the kinda shitty situation he gets into when he’s hardly had any sleep! 

“Walk away, Spider-Man,” the dealer said, and Peter sighed. 

“I just said we were friends, and friends help friends!” Peter said, faux-cheerfully, surreptitiously lowering his middle and ring fingers to press against the webtrigger. “I’ll get you help, the police will be more than happy to assist, I’m sure!”

The moment he pressed the trigger, he heard the gun fire and dodged left, but his movements were sluggish from the cold and lack of sleep, and the bullet clipped his shoulder.

He looked up to find the dealer secured to the wall by his webbing, and he clapped his hand over the bullet wound, vaguely aware he had to apply pressure.

“Well, this was fun,” Peter said, glancing at the two criminals on either side of the lane-way. “Karen, call 9-1-1, and, uh,” Peter glanced at his shoulder and swayed on the spot. He never did well with blood. 

“Well, lookie here!” A familiar voice came from behind Peter. Please, no. Please. “Looks like we got ourselves a good ole fashioned standoff!”

Peter slowly turned around and saw Deadpool standing proud, taking up most of the room in the narrow lane with his broad shoulders. And the Bad Mood continues. 

“Deadpool, it’s done. The cops are on their way, just get out of here,” Peter said through clenched teeth. Through all the cold, sleepless nights where he had to get up for work the next morning, Peter had never experienced anything that turned his mood sour quite as quickly as Deadpool. Most of the time he was harmless, even a bit of a laugh, but sometimes he just took things way too far.

“Oh, shit, this was a boner fide shootout!” Deadpool gasped, reaching out for Peter’s shoulder, but Peter jolted back. “Want me to slice’n dice ‘em?”

“No,” Peter grit out, “I want you to leave.”

He looked down at his shoulder again, deciding he’d probably need to call in sick if the blood seeping through his suit and fingers was anything to go by.

He didn’t really know how he ended up on the ground, looking up at the bleak sky — nor did he remember falling, but he assumed he must’ve blacked out for a moment, because that was where he was. Lying on the cold, grungy ground in an alley with two criminals webbed to the walls and Deadpool standing over him, his hands on his hips and a disappointed look on his masked face that was deeply reminiscent of Aunt May.

“I’m fine,” Peter asserted before Deadpool could say anything, sitting up and ignoring the way his head spun and his vision swam. 

“Fucked-up, insecure —”

“Don’t,” Peter snapped, unsteadily clambering to his feet, and walking out of the alley, disappointed to hear Deadpool following him.

“Okay, Bambi. At least let me take you back to my place and get a good look at your cute little hole,” Deadpool waggled his eyebrows and clicked his tongue, and Peter took a deep breath and prayed to every god and deity out there for strength and patience. 

“No. My place isn’t too far, so I’m just going to head home, deal with this myself, and probably never leave the house again,” Peter griped, his stomach sinking as Deadpool gasped, and Peter realised what he’d said.

“Is that an invitation to the Spider-cave? I promise not to tell any of your enemies where you live! Unless they pay the right figure — but that’s only if it’s enough for me and you to run away and start our new life together!”

“Gee, what an offer,” Peter said irritatedly, slowly walking back towards his apartment, wondering how the hell he was going to shake Deadpool. His mood was deteriorating even further as it started sprinkling rain, and he decided to go for blunt, not that this particular tactic had ever worked for him in the past. “No, it’s not an offer and I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave me alone.” 

“Oh, I can’t do that, Webs. You’re all hurt! And that bullet wound is in an awkward position. I’d hate for you to strain a muscle tryin’a pull it out. You don’t have to be so proud all the time, y’know, Webs? Just accept my help,” Deadpool said, and Peter sighed.

It hadn’t ever been a secret that Deadpool admired Spider-Man, maybe even respected him a little. Under normal circumstances Peter wouldn’t trust Deadpool as far as he could throw him, but…

Annoying as Deadpool could be (and, oh, god, was he annoying), he’d also proven to be loyal and very, very occasionally he was even helpful.

Plus, with his ridiculous hero-worship crush on Spider-Man, nothing would be a better scare tactic than boring old Peter Parker. If he found out who Spider-Man was beneath the suit, he’d probably die of boredom, and then leave Peter the hell alone once and for all after he regenerated.

“Fine, I’ll allow you to help me,” Peter said graciously, glaring at the sky as the rain slowly but surely turned to sleet, and Deadpool chuckled.

“Knew you’d come around eventually!”

Peter took the walk back to his apartment to mourn the probable loss of another backpack, and also to take out his phone and call in sick. He spoke to Betty, who was lovely and promised to cover for him with Jameson, but said it would definitely help if he could still get his tech article reviewing the StarkPhone S.12 sent in by close of business. He kept his side of the conversation as monosyllabic as possible, because if he was going to show Deadpool where he lived and who he was, he’d still like to have at least one facet of his life hidden from the mercenary.

By the time they’d reached Peter’s apartment complex, and Deadpool was well on his way to chattering off at least one of Peter’s ears, and the sleet had turned to an unbearable flurry of snow.

Peter lead Deadpool through the empty walk-up, the merc having gone uncharacteristically silent as they reached Peter’s door. Peter glanced around to make sure no one was about to turn into the hallway and catch Spider-Man taking the spare key for Peter Parker’s apartment from under the doormat, sending a silent prayer that his backpack would stay secure until he could retrieve it. 

“Welcome to mi casa,” Peter said, swinging the door open and entering the chilly apartment, closing the door behind Deadpool and ripping off his mask in the process. “It’s a shithole, but it’s also cold.”

“It’s nice,” Deadpool snorted derisively, and Peter rolled his eyes. Yeah, his apartment was tiny, and dated, and the paint was peeling and the floorboards were — well, not quite rotting, but on their way — but it was rent controlled, and close to work and. Yeah, those were the only two good things about it. “It could use a fresh coat of — paint me like one of your fuckin’ French girls, sweet baby Jesus,” Deadpool said as he turned to face Peter, who narrowed his eyes at him. “Look atcha!”

“What,” Peter glared as menacingly as he could, despite all of a sudden feeling very insecure and exposed.

“You look like the lovechild of Andy, Maguire, and Tommy, and I’m living for it!” Deadpool cooed, cupping his face with his palms and tilting his head, looking like a schoolgirl aflutter with love. Peter remained unimpressed. 

“I’ll get the medkit. Help yourself to — who’m I kidding, I don’t have anything to offer,” Peter said, beelining for the mildew ridden bathroom and taking out his emergency medical supplies from under the sink. He peered into the box a little despondently — he’d have to top up his supplies again soon, which meant less money to spare for food. 

“Shit, kid, you weren’t kidding,” Deadpool said, rifling through his cupboards when Peter returned to the living area. “Not even a frozen burrito,” Deadpool sighed crossing his arms and shaking his head at Peter.

“Yeah, well, not every job pays as well as murder,” he said bitterly, sitting on the couch and shaking the medkit towards Deadpool. 

“Sweetheart, I know you know I don’t like the m-word,” Deadpool said darkly, and Peter scoffed. 

“Call a spade a spade. Now, are you going to help me or did you just come over to bitch about my living situation?” Peter said, well and truly Fed Up.  

“Fine, but then I’m ordering pizza and you’re going to court me like a proper gentleman,” Deadpool said joining Peter on the couch. Peter’s stomach grumbled at the thought of pizza, despite the early hour, and he decided not to refuse Deadpool’s proposition — at least in it’s entirety. “Got any painkillers?” 

“No, it’s fine,” Peter said, “not the first time I’ve fished out a bullet and unfortunately it probably won’t be the last.” It still wouldn’t be fun, though. 

Peter tugged down the top of his suit so it was sitting around his waist, and silently allowed Deadpool to clean his shoulder and take out the bullet that was shallowly lodged in his skin. Deadpool, of course, chattered the whole time, more than happy to host a slew of one-sided conversations. 

“Thanks, Deadpool,” Peter said only a little resentfully as Deadpool finished wrapping the wound.

“People who’ve had me inside of them call me Wade,” Deadpool said.

“Those were the tweezers, not your fingers — you have not been inside of me,” Peter said with as much patience as he could muster and Deadpool muttered a quiet, “yet.” He was grateful for the help, though. “Thank you, Wade.” 

“Unf, say it again, baby,” Deadpool said, standing and tossing the medical garbage in the bin. “So, pizza?”

“Okay,” Peter said cautiously, caught between his desire for free food and to get Wade out.

Well, if he was being fair, Wade had been helpful… and he’d never really done anything dishonourable towards Peter… he was just — misguided. And Peter never even gave him an ounce of credit.

“I’ve kinda been an asshole to you, huh?” Peter said as realisation came crashing down on him. Deadpool had always been good to Spider-Man, the only reason Peter had kept him at arms length was because of what he’d heard from others about Deadpool — noting that he’d experienced himself. 

Of course, there was the whole murder thing… but Deadpool kept his business out of the city out of respect for Spider-Man, and Peter had just dismissed him, and was even downright rude.

May would be abhorred.

“Eh,” Wade said noncommittally. “I’m used to it.”

That was… really sad, actually.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, looking out the window to see the snow starting to stick to the ground and lampposts. He flicked his gaze over to Wade who was regarding him silently, leaning back against the kitchen bench. “I shouldn’t have — I mean, I don’t really — I’m sorry, okay?”

“Okay,” Wade said brightly. “What kind of pizza do you like? You’re not a vegetarian, are you? You look like a meat-eater, but it’s okay if you’re vego, just as long as you’ll take one kind of meat—”

“I’ll eat anything,” Peter said abruptly, just to stop Wade from talking, and then grimaced as the implication of what he said set in, along with a fiery blush that was no longer hidden behind the mask. “Uh, any pizza. I’m cool with whatever. Um, yay food!” He said weakly, while Wade grinned at him. 

“Yay food,” Wade said mockingly, pulling a phone out of one of his many, many pockets, set to work (probably) ordering pizza. Peter watched him for a minute, guiltily looking away when Wade lifted his head and announced the order was on its way. 

“Okay, good, I’m hungry,” Peter said, feeling awkward and exposed. He pulled the top of his suit back on, minding his wound.

“Hi, Hungry, I’m Daddy,” Wade said, rejoining Peter on the couch, and Peter lightly punched him.

“Don’t make this weird or I’ll make you leave,” He warned. “But, uh, you can — I mean, my name is actually Peter. So.”

“Nice to meetcha, Petey-Pie,” Wade said, a smile in his voice. 

Maybe — maybe Peter’s Bad Mood wasn’t as permanent as he thought.

Chapter Text

One thing Peter hadn’t expected of Wade was how good he was with children.

Naturally, it had come as a complete shock when he’d revealed he was a father.

They hadn’t been dating long at that stage — everything was still new and they were both cautious and guarded, but Peter had appreciated the trusting gesture, and had told Wade a little more about his own life, about losing his parents and uncle.

Those particular conversations were almost lost in the following months of their relationship as they continued to learn each other’s habits, insecurities, and flaws. Through it all Peter was happy, and he thought Wade was as well, even if they have their arguments.

“I want you to meet Ellie,” Wade had said abruptly one night as they were cuddling on the couch watching a nature documentary on Netflix at Peter’s request. Peter had fleetingly wondered if this would ever come up, especially having introduced Wade to May only a few days prior.

“I’d love to,” Peter said, pressing a kiss to Wade’s jaw, “when you and Ellie are both ready.”

Weeks went by and nothing happened, until one afternoon when Peter was heading to Wade’s apartment after an exam, he got a call from his partner.

“Preston asked me to pick Ellie up from school and drop her home later, so she’s here at the apartment now,” Wade said, “Do you still want to meet her?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll be there in about five minutes,” Peter said, excited to finally meet Wade’s daughter, but also starting to feel nervous. He didn’t know how close Wade and Ellie were — he knew Wade adored his child, but from what Peter could tell they didn’t get to spend much time together.

A few minutes later, Peter let himself into Wade’s apartment and found a small girl sitting at the dining table with a colouring book and crayons, her tongue peeking out the side of her mouth as she concentrated.

“Hey, Pete!” Wade greeted from the kitchen, causing Ellie to look up, first at her dad and then over at Peter.

“Hi, uh,” Peter said awkwardly, looking back and forth between Wade and Ellie. “Hi.”

“Hello!” Ellie chirped, “I’m Ellie! Daddy told me all about you,” she said brightly, her big brown eyes sparkling the exact same way her father’s did.

“Nice to meet you Ellie,” Peter said, moving further into the living area. “He’s told me a lot about you too.”

“Really? Did he tell you that I got an A on my spelling test?” Ellie asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

“That’s amazing, Ellie!” Peter congratulated her, “I was never a very good speller, but I’m pretty good at maths.”

“I hate maths,” Ellie said, scrunching her face up. “You do kinda look like a nerd.”

Wade choked out a laugh and Peter couldn’t help but smile. If there was ever any doubt of the familial relation, that comment wiped it clean out of his mind.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly, Ellie pleading for a bowl of ice cream and promising it wasn’t going to spoil her dinner when she got home to Emily.

As they were packing up Ellie’s colouring into her backpack, she took her father’s hand and inspected it closely.

“How’d you get the scars, daddy?” Ellie asked, and Peter froze. He knew Wade didn’t like talking about it, and he watched his boyfriend carefully.

Wade just smiled and picked Ellie up, sitting her on his hip.

“You know the story, Ellie,” he said, tweaking her nose. She giggled and swatted his hand away. 

“Nuh-uh, I know that story you told me was bullsh—”

“Whoa,” Wade said, clapping a hand over Ellie’s mouth and shooting a guilty look to Peter, who was hiding a smile. “Fine. I’ll tell you the real story, okay?” 

“Okay!” Ellie agreed excitedly, and Peter watched as Wade took a seat and let Ellie settle on his lap.

“One time there was a beautiful princess named Eleanor,” Wade said, and Ellie gasped.

“That’s my name!” 

“Sure is, kiddo, who do you think you’re named after?” Wade asked, and Ellie beamed. “Anyway, Princess Eleanor was so beautiful that her over-protective father kept locked away in a castle, guarded by a ferocious dragon. 

“Then, there was a prince who had heard of Princess Eleanor’s unrivalled beauty, and paid me a large sum of money to rescue the princess from her life of loneliness and become his bride.”

“You rescued a princess?” Ellie said doubtfully, and Peter watched on in amazement as Wade nodded solemnly and continued his story.

“It was difficult, and the fight against the dragon was difficult — but eventually it lay slain, and I walked away, although every inch of my body was covered in burns,” Wade said, holding his hand out for Ellie to inspect.

“Did you take the princess to her prince? Did they live happily ever after?” Ellie asked.

“Of course! You’re old man ain’t nothing if he don’t finish a job!” Wade said, and Ellie laughed.

“Okay, dad,” Ellie said, still sounding slightly unconvinced, but her eyes brimming with hope.

“So, what’s the moral of the story?” Peter asked, grinning as Wade shot him an unimpressed look. 

“Oh, I know! Sometimes it’s hard to help people, but in the end people are happy if you can,” Ellie said with wisdom beyond her years. 

“Nah,” Wade said dismissively, “the point is — fathers will go to crazy lengths to protect their daughters, and if anyone comes near you, Eleanor Camacho-Preston-Wilson, I’ll do to them what that dragon did to me.”

Peter held back a laugh as Ellie’s eyes widened at the threat.

Chapter Text

“Whoa, Peter, what’s wrong? You look like crap!” Ned gave him a concerned look as soon as he stepped through the door of their shared apartment.

“Bad day,” Peter mumbled, bypassing the couch where Ned was playing Overwatch and heading straight for the window and out onto the fire escape.

He took the fire escape up to the roof and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in his lungs.

“That shit’ll kill ya, y’know,” a voice said conversationally from behind Peter, and he spun around to see none other than Deadpool standing there, on his rooftop, polishing a katana.

“Good,” Peter said after blowing out the smoke, his head spinning from the nicotine and the fact that Deadpool was there, two floors above where he lived with his best friend. Did he know?

“You whiny millennials and your obsession with death,” Deadpool sighed, “she’s really not all she’s cracked up to be.” 

“I’m not obsessed with death,” Peter said, “I just. Don’t really care. But, uh, I mean, if — if it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer not to die, y’know, tonight. I’ve already had a bad day, that’d just be the icing on the cake.”

“You think this is for you?” Wade said, pointing the katana at Peter, who flinched and took another drag of his cigarette, ash sprinkling like rain on the rooftop. “Nah. I heard Spider-Man moves around these parts.”

“So, it’s for him?” Peter asked, his stomach dropping. If Deadpool had picked up on Spider-Man’s comings and goings, how many other villains had? Not that Deadpool was a villain, per se, but certainly not the kind of guy you’d want tracking you.

“No!” Deadpool said firmly. “I’m just waiting to see if I can spot him, maybe have a chat, bear his children, you know.”

“I don’t, really,” Peter said, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out in an ash tray on the fire escape.

“I just got bored waiting, might have to call it quits for tonight,” Deadpool said forlornly, sheathing his katana. “Places to unalive, people to be.” 

“Maybe,” Peter said, his heart racing, “maybe give it a bit longer? He might still show up.”

Maybe he was a whiny millennial with an obsession with death. He ignored Deadpool’s questioning look and retreated down the fire escape, doubting his every life choice and also his sanity as he climbed through his bedroom window and changed into his Spider Suit.

Yeah, he’d had a bad day, but Deadpool could be... fun.

Chapter Text

“So, what do you think?” Wade asked proudly as they got out of the cab and stood in front of an old terrace home.

“It’s — it’s nice,” Peter said, eyeing the house critically. It wasn’t bad. It was just… different to the row of neat houses either side of it.

The paint was peeling and some of the bricks were tripped, and the front yard was an overgrown nightmare, but, it was cute.

Peter shifted his gaze from the house to Wade who was looking at him expectantly.

“It’s great, Wade, but I don’t really understand why we’re here,” Peter said, bracing himself.

Wade was a little… impulsive. It made dating him a lot of fun and sometimes exhausting. They could be here to see one of Wade’s old army buddies, or to break in and light things on fire — which Peter would, of course, not participate in. Maybe it was the unassuming base of a crime ring, and Wade had brought Peter out here to take them down — although neither of them were suited up, so that theory was probably unlikely.

“It’s ours. I bought it!” Wade said, beaming, and Peter’s heart stopped.

“You — you bought a house?” Peter asked, eyes flickering between Wade and the property.

“Yeah, well,” Wade said, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly unsure, “when you moved into the apartment with me, I don’t know, you really brightened it up and made it feel like a home — and, like, you did the same with me. You’re a fixer, you make things shiny, and so I thought, y’know I could buy a fancy ass brownstone that had a facelift to rival our queen Dolly, or I could get one that we could fix up together, really make it our own.”

“You bought us a house?” Peter said in a small voice, the allergies that had been gone since the spider bite suddenly acting up if his watering eyes were anything to go by.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I love you, and I want to make you happy and give you a good life, and — oof!” Wade cut off as Peter launched into a hug, holding him tight and peppering kisses over his face. 

“I love it, I love you, oh my god, you bought a house!” Peter laughed, wrapping his arms around Wade’s neck and turning to look at their home.

“So, you’re not mad?” Wade asked, sounding unsure. Peter’s mind was already brimming with ideas on how to fix up the exterior, and he hadn’t even seen the inside yet. It was exactly the kind of project he’d love to work on, he’d always dreamed of building the perfect home. Really, he thought, anywhere would be perfect as long as he was with Wade.

“I’m not mad,” Peter assured him, turning to look at his boyfriend. “Thank you,” He said sincerely, pouring all of his love and gratitude into their first kiss at their new home.

Chapter Text

“Mr. Stark, who’s going to be at this party?” Peter asked, fiddling with his webshooter. It kept getting jammed and he couldn’t figure out why, even after taking it apart and putting it back together twice.

“I don’t know,” Tony absently replied from across the lab, “a few people.” Peter had never been to one of Tony Stark’s parties before, but he assumed ‘a few people’ roughly translated to at least one-hundred. “Have you decided if you’re going, or if Spider-Man is going?”

“I don’t know,” Peter groaned, placing his head in his hands. “The Avengers all know me, but the X-Men don’t, plus whoever else might be there… I don’t really want to hang around in my suit all night, but it would be weird for a seventeen year old to be at one of your parties, right?”

Tony looked up at the last comment. “People would probably assume you’re my kid, or my boy toy,” he said, and Peter choked on his spit.

“Ohmygod, Mr. Stark!”

“Yeah, my reputation isn’t one that disappears with something as trivial as, say, marriage,” Tony said darkly, before glaring at the ceiling. “If you tell Pepper I called our marriage trivial I’m rewriting your code and donating you to self-assisted checkouts, FRIDAY.”

“Noted,” FRIDAY replied coolly, and Peter chuckled before remembering his dilemma.

“What should I do Mr. Stark?” He asked, and he knew he was sounding whiny, and Tony was probably one more question away from kicking him out of his lab. It was just — it was a party! At Stark Tower! With the Avengers, and X-Men, and!!!

“Just go without your mask,” Tony suggested, sounding as patient as Peter had ever heard him (not very). “Let people assume what they want — no one’s probably going to connect you with Spider-Man. If the worst they can come up with is you’re my child, well. They’re close enough to the truth, then, right?”

Peter blinked, his mouth dropping open. Did — did Tony Stark basically call him his almost-son?!

Peter took a very long moment to compose himself, before agreeing. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll go without my mask — what’s the worst that can happen?”

Peter should have known better. He never should have tempted fate like that.

The party is in full swing and he’d kind of awkwardly hovering on the edge of Wanda’s conversation with Anna Marie. He wasn’t old enough to drink, and he was really bad at making conversation with strangers, and he was starting to realise maybe this was a bad idea. At least if he was wearing the mask he could feign confidence, but right now he just felt… young, and vulnerable.

He was about to call it quits and head back to his suite when he heard glass smash, and Tony’s voice above the rest of the party, demanding, “What the hell is he doing here?” 

Peter curiously made his way over to see the disruption, and caught sight of a red suit.

“Get out of here, Deadpool,” Tony said, walking away and leaving no room for argument. Of course, Wade being Wade, he argued anyway.

“You said everyone was invited!”

“Everyone except for you!” Tony called over his shoulder.

Peter didn’t mind Wade as much as… well, pretty much everyone else. He’d helped Spider-Man a few times in the past, and was pretty funny. 

He decided he was going to go over and say hello, when Wade brushed past him without a sideways glance, muttering, “Gotta meet Captain America!”

Peter turned and watched as Deadpool disappeared into the crowd, and he frowned. He’d never been ignored by Wade before. Wade always had a silly greeting or a lame come-on. Peter looked down at his clothes, and realised it was because he wasn’t in the suit. No one cared about Peter Parker, no one was impressed by him. No one complimented Peter Parker’s ass or gushed over how cute he was.

The party was quickly losing its appeal, and Peter wanted to be anywhere else. He made his way outside onto the giant balcony for some fresh air. It was cold, and it was blowing a gale, so he was the only one outside. He walked out to the furthest point from the party and sat down on the cold ground, looking out over the city. It really was beautiful, from up here.

He was starting to shiver slightly from the cold when his Spidey Sense gave him a slight nudge.

“We’re a sociable bunch!” Wade said, sitting next to him and crossing his legs.

“Yeah, I just realised parties aren’t really my scene,” Peter chuckled humourlessly.

“You’re a bit young for this crowd, anyway, aren’tcha?” Wade asked. Peter opened his mouth to respond (probably with a biting comeback because he wasn’t that young), but Wade just kept doing what he does best. “Daddy Starkbucks allow you to tag along to his shindig? Got bored with all the boring adults? You know, I just met Captain America! Sure, he threatened to throw me out of the plate glass window, but the guy’s a living legend.

“Then you’ve got the A-Team, not to mention, like, Mystique? Rogue? I can’t think of a third X-Woman, so maybe Een? It’s a teenage boy’s wet dream! None of that impress you even a little?” Wade asked, and Peter snorted.

“Maybe they’re not the ones I’m interested in,” he said, before sighing. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Everyone in there looks at me like I don’t belong. Things would’ve been different if I’d…” he trailed off. Things definitely would have been different if he’d worn the suit, but Wade didn’t need to know that. He didn’t need to know that Peter was being all pissy because Wade had ignored him as Peter, when he would’ve paid attention to him as Spider-Man. 

“Ugh, you’re too young to have regrets,” Wade said, and Peter rolled his eyes.

“I’m not that young, you know! I’m almost eighteen!” Peter snapped. “You know what, forget it. I’m just going to — I’m gonna go. I don’t… Yeah, I’m gonna go.” 

“No, wait!” Wade said, catching Peter’s arm as he moved to stand. Peter looked down at the hand holding him in place, then up at Wade. “Sorry,” Wade mumbled letting go of his arm. “It’s just, you remind me of someone, and, ah, shit…”

“I do?” Peter asked quietly, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. He’d barely spoken to Wade for five minutes as Peter Parker.

“Yeah, you do,” Wade replied. “Nearly eighteen, huh?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows, and Peter punched him.

“Nope. You don’t get to ignore me and then hit on me,” Peter said firmly, and Wade gasped.

“Baby boy, I didn’t ignore you! I mean, I kinda did, but I was distracted! Captain America, Webs! He was right there, across the room! And I — I ignored you, didn’t I?” Wade said, sounding crestfallen.

“It’s okay,” Peter said, “I know I’m ordinary.”

“No!” Wade said earnestly, “look atcha, you’re gorgeous!” He said, cupping Peter’s cheek with a gloved hand, and Peter leaned into the touch, his eyes sliding shut against his will.

“I know I’m not,” Peter said simply, keeping his eyes closed so he didn’t have to look at Wade. “I know I’m not as impressive as Spider-Man, as cool and confident. I’m just Peter, and I thought — I thought that would be enough for tonight, but I guess not. I guess, with this crowd at least — with you — I guess I need to be just Spider-Man.” Peter opened his eyes, and leaned away from Wade’s gentle touch. “And that’s okay. I can be just Spider-Man.”

“You can be Peter too! I like what I’ve seen of Peter, so far,” Wade said, but Peter shook his head with a smile.

“You don’t have to lie, Wade. I don’t know what brought you out here, but you don’t have to stick around to make me feel better. We can still patrol and hangout as Spider-Man and Deadpool, I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get to know Peter Parker,” Peter said remorsefully.

“Okay, well, what if I get to know Peter Parker?” Wade asked, pulling off his mask. Peter had seen some of his skin before, through bullet holes and tears in his suit, but he’d never seen Wade’s whole face.

It looked — painful.

And just like that, Peter’s insecurities flew off the balcony. If Wade could be brave and bare himself, then Peter could too. 

“I realised how unremarkable I was when you walked past me, how different I am to Spider-Man. I like you too much to just let this be a thing where you’re only interested in me because you’re interested in Spider-Man,” Peter warned.

“You’re not unremarkable, and I don’t think your two lives are as different as you think they are,” Wade said, more serious than Peter had ever heard him. “Just give me a chance?”

Peter reached up and softly traced the scars on Wade’s cheek with his fingertips. “You’re right, I’m being stupid,” Peter laughed quietly, and Wade beamed at him. 

“I reign supreme when it comes to stupidity, you can’t outdo me here, no sir!”

“Alright,” Peter conceded, still smiling warmly at Wade. “You know, if we’re going to do this — whatever this is — we’re going to have to deal with all of them,” he said, jerking his head back towards the party, Tony’s disapproving glare already making an appearance in his mind’s eye.

“No,” Wade groaned, dropping his face to hide in Peter’s neck, “no, they’ll kill me for corrupting their soft spider baby!”

“You can’t die,” Peter reminded him, chuckling.

“Oh, they’ll find a way,” Wade said darkly, “and they won’t be merciful.”

Chapter Text

“This isn’t working,” Wade said, standing next to the window of Peter’s tiny apartment, looking out over the bleak, rainy city. Peter looked over at him from his seat on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees, curled in on himself. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t know what to say.

Peter couldn’t even remember how the fight started. He’d come home from work, and Wade had been cooking dinner, and the next thing he knew they were sniping at each other over dirty laundry, which led to arguing about Wade joining the Avengers, and that dissolved into them shouting at each other over every fucking thing in their lives.

They’d had arguments before, silly things about what to watch on Netflix because Wade couldn’t sit through another documentary and Brooklyn Nine-Nine is a great show but if Peter has to rewatch season one again he’s going to find Andy Samberg and punch him in his stupid mouth. They had bickered over having Mexican for the fourth night in a row, or for the love of god can we please just get Chinese this once, Wade?

They had never had a blow-up like this before, hours of arguing and yelling, and criticising and — it was awful.

Of course they had problems, all relationships did, right? They’d only been together four months, and things weren’t always rosy, but…

“I’m — I’m gonna go,” Wade said, moving to Peter’s bedroom and throwing his possessions that had accumulated into a duffle bag. Wade hadn’t been back to his apartment in more than two weeks.

“Wade,” Peter said softly, moving off the couch and standing in the doorway, watching as he collected his weapons and clothes and the spare suit. “Wade, slow down.” 

“No, this isn’t working, I’m just gonna — where the fuck is my mask?” He said, avoiding Peter’s gaze as he dropped to his knees and looked under the bed.

“Wade, you can’t leave right now,” Peter said, trying to remain reasonable and calm, two emotions that had been in short supply so far tonight.

“Don’t fucking tell me what I can and can’t do, this is the problem!” Wade shouted, finding his mask and pulling it on. Peter flinched as he brushed past and headed for the door.

“Wade, please,” Peter said, his throat catching as Wade paused before opening the door.

“Bye, Peter,” he said slamming the door behind him.

Peter had been doing okay. He’d been shouting, but he’d presented his arguments in a logical, concise matter, and most importantly he hadn’t cried despite how upset and confused and hurt he was.

He started crying as soon as Wade’s heavy footsteps faded down the hall. He collapsed onto the floor and put his head in his hands and sobbed because Wade called him Peter and left. Wade never called him Peter, it was Petey, or baby boy, or Spider-Butt, or a thousand other nicknames, but never Peter, and he was gone and —

Holy shit, he was having a panic attack. He hadn’t had a panic attack in years, and now he was all alone on the dusty floor of his shitty apartment, crying and having a panic attack and Wade was gone. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there crying but he was starting to get a headache, and his back was hurting, but he just couldn’t move. 

Suddenly the door swung open and Wade strode through, dropping his duffle bag and dropping to sit on front of Peter, pulling him into his lap.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot,” Wade whispered, wiping Peter’s cheeks as he started crying harder. “I’m sorry.”

“You left, asshole!” Peter said, trying to shove him away, but Wade just held him tighter.

“I know, that was stupid,” Wade said, “I’m sorry, I’ll do all the laundry, and I’ll stop taking jobs, and I’ll do whatever it takes because I love you and I want to be with you, even when you talk shit about our lord and saviour Andy Samberg.” 

“I love you too, Wade,” Peter said, looking up at his dumb boyfriend. They’d never said that to each other before. “I’m sorry too.”

“You don’t ever have to apologise to me, Spider-Butt,” Wade said, pinching his damp cheek, and Peter smiled weakly. “You know what comes after a fight?” Wade said, giving him a wild grin.

“Make-up sex?” Peter suggested, laughing when Wade nodded enthusiastically.

Chapter Text

Wade wanted something. Peter could tell.

He was hovering, and he kept looking at Peter and opening his mouth as if going to say something important, then shaking his head and looking away. 

At first it was funny. That was four hours ago. Now Peter was going a little crazy.

“Do I have something from my face?” He asked not looking up from his book, but feeling Wade’s eyes on him again.

“No,” Wade said, sounding put-off. “It’s just —” he cut himself off with a sigh, sinking into the armchair across the room.

Peter patiently bookmarked his page and closed his book, putting it down on the arm of the couch and looking over at Wade, who immediately pulled out his butterfly knife and started twirling it around. So, this was serious.

“Are we doing anything? For — for Christmas?” Wade asked, taking Peter by surprise. He hadn’t exactly forgot that it was coming up, but he’d just assumed Wade would like the holiday as much as Peter — so, not even a little bit.

“Uh, I don’t really do Christmas,” Peter said, and Wade’s face was a careful neutral. “I mean, I usually have lunch with May, and that’s as far as I go to acknowledge the day… But we can, if that’s something you’d want.”

“How come you don’t do Christmas?” Wade asked, finally looking up at Peter. 

“Well, I lost my parents right before Christmas. Ben and May tried to — to make up for their absence. They did the best they could,” Peter smiled, bittersweet. “But it just wasn’t the same. At first, I mean.

“As the years went on, it got better, and Christmas became a time for celebration, again, but, uh, Ben was killed just after Thanksgiving,” Peter said, sighing heavily. “By Christmas, May had sold the house and we’d moved to the apartment she’s still living in. We tried to celebrate, tried to make it work because that’s what Ben would’ve wanted but. It’s stupid,” Peter said shaking his head, and Wade moved onto the sofa, next to Peter, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. 

“It’s not stupid,” he said, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Ben had this ornament for the tree, May hated it. It was an old, sky-blue corvette, like one he used to have when he and May started dating. Every time he brought it out and hung it on the tree May would go off at him,” Peter chuckled, “said it didn’t go with the crystal snowflakes and baubles, but he’d always hang it proud. It was lost in the move. May was distraught, even though she spent her whole life complaining about it. After that, we just didn’t really bother,” Peter said with a shrug.

“I was diagnosed with cancer around Christmas,” Wade said conversationally, and Peter turned to look at him.

“We decorate this place and do presents and the whole family Christmas thing, if you want,” Peter said, pressing a kiss to his scarred cheek. “I just hadn’t really considered it. Maybe it’s time for new celebrations and traditions.”

“Really?” Wade asked, his eyes sparkling, and Peter smiled.

“Yeah, of course.”

He hadn’t expect for Wade to go out and buy at least $500 worth of decorations and a tree before Peter had even woken up the next morning. 

“What’s all this?” Peter asked through a yawn as Wade unpacked bags upon bags of tinsel and baubles and other sparkly things.

“You said I could!” Wade said, looking nervous, and Peter laughed.

“It’s great,” Peter said, picking up a wreath and smoothing down the brambles. “It’s a lot, but as long as you’re happy.”

“I got something for you as well,” Wade said, rummaging through his bags, before pulling out a small, white cardboard box and handing it to Peter.

“Oh, thank you,” Peter said, smiling up at Wade as he accepted the box. “Oh, my god,” Peter said as he lifted the lid and peered in, a sky-blue corvette tree ornament sitting in the box, surrounded by white tissue paper. “How — where did you even get this?”

“I know a guy,” Wade shrugged, and Peter carefully put the box down so he could wrap his arms around his amazing boyfriend.

“Thank you, Wade,” Peter said, softly pressing a kiss to Wade’s lips. “It’s perfect.”

Chapter Text

Peter checked the clock on his phone for the third time in ten minutes and glanced around hoping to spot Deadpool’s familiar red suit in the crowd on the street below. 

He’d been waiting on the rooftop for twenty minutes already so they could patrol together, and Peter was worried because Wade was never late. 

Peter looked at the time on his phone one last time before deciding to go in search of Wade. He stood up and rolled his shoulders, working it the kinks in his neck before leaping off the roof and catching a web on a lamppost below, swinging down the street. 

He took a left at the park, heading deeper into Midtown, letting his instincts guide him because it was a big city, and if Wade didn’t want to be found, well, there wasn’t much Peter could do. 

Finally, about three blocks away from Avengers Tower, Peter spotted red in the bustling peak hour foot traffic, and dropped onto the pavement next to Wade, matching his pace. 

“Hey! I was waiting for you! Everything good?” Peter asked, keeping his head up as they weaved in and out of the pedestrians. Wade’s posture was tense, and if someone could walk angrily, well Wade was doing it. 

“Everything’s swell, Spider-Man,” Wade replied tonelessly. 

“Oh-kay,” Peter said, “well do you still want to patrol? Or if you’re not up for it, we can just grab something to eat. I know you prefer Mexican but there’s a quality street vendor a few blocks from here so maybe —” 

“Oh, my god, do you ever stop talking?” Wade snapped, and Peter stopped dead in his tracks, quickly kicking himself back into gear when it became evident Wade wasn’t going to stop as well. 

“Isn’t that what people usually say to you?” Peter said teasingly, but Wade obviously wasn’t in the mood for their usual banter. 

“That’s exactly right, and so I’m not talking. I’m done. Just leave me alone.”

“No, I don’t think I’m gonna do that,” Peter said cheerfully, and Wade sent him a glare. “Come on, Wade, what’s up? Why are you taking a vow of silence.” 

“It’s not a vow of silence, I’m just over it, Webs. I’m obviously not cut out for the hero life, so, why bother?” Wade asked rhetorically.

“Okay, we’re not doing this here,” Peter decided, grabbing Wade by the waist and swinging them up to the nearest rooftop.

“What the fuck, Spider-Man,” Wade growled, unsheathing his katanas and pointing them at Peter, “You can’t just grab people and swing away with them!”

“I know, but you’re being weird and I didn’t know what else to do!” Peter said exasperatedly. “What’s going on, man? What’s this rubbish about not being cut out for the hero life?”

“I just met with the Avengers!” Wade exploded, dropping his hands to his sides the tips of his katanas dragging on the ground.

“Oh,” Peter said, realisation hitting him. “Oh. It didn’t go well?”

“How’d you guess?” Wade said sarcastically, sheathing his katanas and dropping to a seat on the edge of the building. Peter cautiously sat next to him, hoping Wade wasn’t going to threaten him again. Not that he didn’t technically deserve it.

“Did you — were you asking — I mean,” Peter stuttered, not really sure what to say.

“I asked if I could join the team, okay? I told ‘em I’d been working with you for a while and helping people, and I’ve gotten a lot better at working with others, but —” Wade sighed. They sat side by side, looking out over the city for a few quiet moments.

“Well, using me as a reference probably wasn’t a good starting point,” Peter said eventually, and Wade turned his head to look at him. “They, uh, rejected my application last year. And — and the year before that. And, well, a few times before that as well. I kinda, maybe lost count?”

“But you’re perfect!” Wade said, sounding bewildered, and Peter scoffed a laugh.

“Heh, I’m really not,” he said, sighing. “But, you and me, we’ve got our own team-up going on, and that works for us, right?”

“All Avengers Rejects,” Wade chuckled dryly. 

“The Misfit Adventures of Wade and Peter!” Peter announced dramatically, before realising what he’d said. “Or, well, uh, Deadpool and Spider-Man,” he said trying to backtrack, before realising he didn’t really mind.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna track you down from your first name,” Wade assured him,

“What about my first name and my face?” Peter asked, trusting his instincts and pulling off his mask.

“You want me to track you down?” Wade asked, giving him a surprised look. 

“Or, I could give you my number. No tracking required,” Peter offered with a teasing smile, and Wade grinned, pulling out his phone and handing it to Peter.

Chapter Text

Peter was about to call it a night. He was just. So tired. He was well and truly on his way home, swinging towards the Queensboro Bridge, when his Spidey Sense sent a sharp tingle up his spine, and he paused on top of a mid-sized building looking around to see if he could find the source of the disturbance. 

The next building over was under construction, scaffolding half the height of the building Peter was currently standing on. It was quite late, there shouldn’t have been anyone there, but the worksite was bustling with movement.

In fact, it looked like there was a fight and — and a man in a red suit?

Peter swung over to take a closer look — they were well and truly out of Hell’s Kitchen, and that wasn’t Daredevil. The suit almost looked like Spider-Mans, but red and black, and the man was wielding katanas and taking out kneecaps. 

Peter couldn’t tell who was the good guys and who was the bad guys, so he decided to interfere.

“You’re new here,” he called out to the enhanced. The guy quirked his head at him, before gasping in recognition.

“Spider-Man! You’re here to save me from these drug peddling slave labourers!” The man said, firing a few bullets out of a handgun and taking down three people. 

“Did — did you just kill them?” Peter asked, horrified, swinging over to where the bodies dropped. 

“Nope, rubber bullets! Word on the street is you don’t like killing,” the guy said, lightly stabbing the nearest goon and moving on. 

“Oh,” Peter said, weirdly touched by the gesture. “Do you need some help here?” He offered as another wave of — what did Red call them? Drug peddling slave labourers? — appeared on the top level of the construction site, ignoring Peter completely and firing shots at Red. 

“Nah, I got this,” he said, effortlessly taking every last one of them out. “I’m Deadpool. You,” he pointed one of his katanas at Peter, “can call me Wade.”

“Hi, Wade,” Peter said, dropping from his perch above the unconscious bodies and standing next to Deadpool. “I guess you know who I am.”

“I sure do!” Wade said excitedly. “And I can’t believe I ran into you on my first night in town! Can we be besties? No — no, can we be lovers? Ooh — or, can we —?”

Whatever third request Wade was going to make was cut off as one of the drug peddling slave labourers appeared out of nowhere and launched at Wade, tackling him him and sending the both of them careening off the scaffolding, landing with a crash several floors below before Peter even had a chance to react.

“Oh, my god,” he said, leaping over the edge the pair had tumbled over, flicking a web on an H-beam and swinging down to land beside Wade, who rolled off the unconscious body below with a pained groan. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Wade groaned again, looking down his left shoulder which was definitely dislocated. 

“Oh, crap, I can pop that back into place but I don’t have any pain-killers, maybe we can stop by a bodega or an all-night pharmacy,” Peter rambled as Wade unsteadily got to his feet, before slamming his body back onto the ground, popping his shoulder back into place. “Oh, my god, why did you do that!” Peter shouted, shocked and feeling a little ill. 

“S’cool,” Wade said, sounding a little woozy. Not that Peter blamed him.

“Uh, well, that — it looks better, but you should probably put it in a sling for a few days, um,” Peter trailed off hesitantly as Wade gave him a funny look. His mask conveyed emotion really well! People were mostly put off by Spider-Man’s bug eyes…

“My schtick is super healing, baby boy,” Wade said breezily, “I’m all good.”

“Huh,” Peter said faintly. “That’s — that’s good. I’m glad your good.”

He suddenly remembered how tired he was, and was about to bid Wade a goodnight, but Wade piped up again. 

“Wanna get some tacos?”

“Tacos?” Peter repeated. “Can’t remember the last time I had Mexican food.”

“Well, we gotta change that, don’t we?” Wade grinned through the mask, and Peter smiled back faintly. He was tired and Wade seemed chaotic, but… thing’s had been pretty quiet in Peter’s life lately. Maybe some chaos wouldn’t be a bad thing. 

“Lead the way, Red,” Peter said decisively.

Chapter Text

The mission had been cursed right from the beginning.

Their landing was delayed due to an airstrike on the SHIELD base they were meant to be holing up in for the next few days. Luckily their were no casualties, but it was still bad because it meant the Hydra knew where they were. 

When they launched their initial assault, all of Cap’s team were taken down. Mostly SHIELD grunts, but Wanda was hurt pretty bad, and so was Sam. Bucky’s back up team didn’t fare much better. 

Peter and Wade were there as an absolute last resort measure, and it was looking like they were going to have to step up. Peter wasn’t happy, because he knew this would mean Wade would be taking lives. He didn’t like any of the mission, because Cap and Bucky had done that already, but it struck him differently, seeing his boyfriend turn into a ruthless killer.

Yes, they were Hydra, they were the enemies, but… they probably had families too. Loved ones. Pets. Maybe they were just as lost and scared as some of the SHIELD trainees going into their first battles. 

Everything had been going wrong, and Peter’s sixth sense had been thrumming at a low lever pretty much ever since they left Manhattan. It was actually a little exhausting, being so on edge, so switched on all the time, and he was looking forward to returning to the Tower.

But first, he and Wade had the official order to take a tac team and sweep the last of the Hydra place, the dregs that Cap and Bucky couldn’t access because they were so overrun. Spider-Man and Deadpool would have to wipe this base out once and for all, because the ground team were out of resources.

The ground floor of the Hydra base was dead silent, having already been cleared by the others. Blood and bodies lined the halls, and the smell of death and decay had already set in. Peter quietly instructed Karen to turn on the air filtration in his mask. Slowly they moved level by level, down into the underground base, clearing each floor as they went.

They didn’t encounter a soul until B7. That was the last floor, and it was where all hell broke loose.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense didn’t flare until one of the SHIELD men had tripped the wire and set off an explosive, taking three out straight away, and side-lining another two. Deadpool instructed a third to stay with the two injured and keep an eye out, signalling for Spider-Man to get on the ceiling and try to look out for what may be ahead. 

Peter took a deep breath and did as instructed, quietly sneaking into what appeared to be a mess hall with the tables and chairs re-arranged to resemble a fort. He could sense people within the fort, but he couldn’t tell how many. He crawled out of the hall and into the last couple of rooms on the level before returning to Wade with his report.

“They’re holed up in a fort in the dining hall,” Peter said quietly, glancing at the SHIELD agents behind Wade who were all on edge. “We can probably surround them and get them to surrender.”

“No,” Wade said firmly. “We can’t risk anyone escaping, or anyone else from SHIELD getting hurt.” 

“But Wade —”

“No, now isn’t the time for your moral superiority, Spider-Man,” Wade said sharply, and Peter flinched. Right. Wade wasn’t his boyfriend, here; he was his commanding officer, the leader of the mission. And though Peter didn’t agree or approve, their mission was clear. 

“Understood,” He said. “What’s the plan?”

“Spider-Man, you’ll be on the ceiling, keeping watch over all exits. The rest of us will surround them and end this. You half,” Wade gestured to one side of the agents, “take the left. The rest go right. We’ll be in and out in two minutes. Do you know how many are in there?” Wade asked, turning back to Peter.

“I don’t — not for sure. Based on the size, it couldn’t be more than fifteen.”

“Well, at least we’re not going in totally blind. Everyone in position, let’s make our move,” Wade instructed, and everyone fell in. Peter returned to the ceiling, and kept his pace with Wade as they headed towards the hall. 

He hated being apart of this. He didn’t want these lives to end, and he definitely didn’t want it on his conscience. But, he knew what he was signing up for when he joined the Avengers, and he knew being a hero wasn’t always about saving lives. He just never wanted to be apart of ending them. 

He appreciated Wade’s effort to keep his hands as clean as possible, though. Peter didn’t think he’d ever be able to pull the trigger, no matter what kind of situation called for it. 

The team silently made their way into the hall, surrounding the fort. Wade signalled for them to hold their fire as he made his way closer to the fort. He circled the fort, looking for the most opportune weakness, before finally deciding on a table on Peter’s side of the room, reaching up to tug it and the whole fort down. Before his fingertips had even reached the table, a gun was fired out of a small gap between that table and the one above, the bullet slicing through Wade’s skull. 

Peter made a strangled noise as Wade’s body crumpled and the SHIELD agents moved in, hastily pulling the fort to shreds and — 

Peter held his position and kept his eyes on Wade’s body, using his peripherals to ensure none of the Hydra agents escaped. He couldn’t look directly at them. He couldn’t watch that. Instead, he waited for the SHIELD agents to stop firing, and once it was all over, he dropped to the floor, dropped to his knees, and cradled Wade’s bloody head in his lap. 

“Come on, Spider-Man, we have to move out,” one of the agents said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“No, I have to wait for him to regenerate,” Peter choked, tears fogging his lenses until Karin intuitively activated the anti-fogging. 

“Bring him with us — we just need to move.” 

Peter sniffed and nodded, standing and picking Wade up bridal style. He’d regenerate. He’d be fine. Peter had seen him die five times now. Each time was awful, and Peter couldn’t stand it, but each time Wade had come back. 

By the time Peter had carried Wade up to the ground floor and into the cool night air, the hole in his skull had already healed over. He’d be up and walking and talking Peter’s ear off within the hour like nothing had happened, but Peter wouldn’t be able to move on as easily. 

He loved Wade so much, and maybe it was selfish, but he was grateful to finally have someone who understood every aspect of his life, both as Peter Parker, and as Spider-Man. All of his previous partners had been to blissfully unaware, so breakable. Wade was like a breath of fresh air, and Peter loathed seeing him hurt. 

At least he’ll always come back, Peter thought, lying Wade’s prone body across several seats on the small jet they were taking back to the SHIELD base. Wade was already breathing, and finally, Peter felt like he could breathe too. They were going to be alright.

Chapter Text

Peter’s blaring phone shocked him awake. Why would he set an alarm for a Saturday? He drowsily reached for his bedside table, blindly grabbing his phone and brining it to his face, squinting at the too-bright screen.

Oh. It wasn’t the alarm.

“S’matter, Wade?” He answered the call, yawning.

“Oh, shit were you asleep? Sorry, baby boy, but we got a mission,” Wade said.

“Kinda mission?” Peter asked, sitting up in his bed and stretching. He hadn’t gotten home from patrol until late last night, and ended up with maybe four hours sleep. 

“The usual,” Wade said loftily, and Peter immediately got a bad feeling. But he trusted Wade. Mostly. “Just gear up and meet me on your roof in ten.” 

“‘Kay,” Peter said, hanging up and flopping back on his mattress, pulling the duvet over his head. Ten minutes. That meant he could realistically get at least another six minutes of sleep. 

Eventually Peter got out of bed and suited up, but he wasn’t happy about it.

He stood on the rooftop of his building, waiting for Wade to appear, wondering what sort of mission required them of all people when SHIELD tended to keep their distance from Deadpool and Spider-Man unless absolutely necessary.

He was surprised to find a shiny black helicopter getting closer and closer until he spotted Deadpool in the pilot’s seat, waving like a maniac with one hand as he landed on Peter’s roof with the other. 

Peter sidelined his shock and hauled ass into the passenger seat because he didn’t think his roof was really fit for a helicopter. “What the hell is this?” He demanded, putting on the headset and glaring at Wade as he took off.

“I tolja, we got a mission,” Wade grinned through his mask.

“Where are we going? What’s the mission?” Peter asked, looking out over the city as Wade headed south-west.

“We’re headed to Virginia, I’ll explain when we get there,” Wade said cryptically, and Peter had a bad feeling.

Less than ten minutes into the flight, the heads-up display on the dashboard showed an incoming call from Nick Fury.

“Wade,” Peter said, looking at the screen. “Wade, why is the Director of SHIELD calling you? What kind of mission is this?” 

Peter had only dealt with Fury in person a handful of times. These days he tended to only pop his head out for the Big Things.

“Just ignore it,” Wade said, declining the call. A moment later, the call came through again, connecting before Wade had a chance to decline it.

“Did you fools really steal one of our helicopters and then have the nerve to ghost me?” Fury asked, and Peter turned to glare at Wade.

“You said there was a mission!” He yelled.

“There is!” Wade fired back, but Fury spoke up again.

“I don’t know if you geniuses forgot, but all our helos have manual override. You are officially on your way to the Compound, and better have a good explanation when you get here.” 

With that, he ended the call, and the helicopter made a 180° turn. 

“Wade, I’m gonna kill you,” Peter said, shaking his head. “Why the hell did you steal a SHIELD helicopter and then lie to me about a mission?” 

“I didn’t steal it, I was borrowing it,” Wade said petulantly, crossing his arms now that the helicopter was flying itself. “And I didn’t lie about there being a mission — it just wasn’t a SHIELD sanctioned one.” 

“What was it?” Peter asked curiously, because he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes he got bored being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man, sue him! 

“Okay, hear me out,” Wade said, turning in his seat to face Peter, looking excited. “So, I couldn’t sleep last night, and I was wiki-hopping, right?” 

“Sure,” Peter said, because, okay.

“And I was looking up cryptids in West Virginia, y’know, Mothman, Flatwoods Monster, and then I hopped on over to the Virginia page and did some digging and came across the Beale ciphers,” Wade explained.

“The — the what?”

“In the eighteen-eighties, Tommy J Beale wrote three ciphers for where his treasure is located, how much is in there (over forty million in today’s currency), and who it belongs to. Now, the second clue had obviously already been worked out, and the third one just doesn’t even matter. It’s the first one that mattered, and I’m pretty sure I figured it out! I think I’ve got a real lead,” Wade said, looking pleased. 

“So, this was meant to be an actual treasure hunt?” Peter asked, hoping he hadn’t unwittingly been dragged into committing a federal offence based on a rumour and a hunch. 

“Yep!” Wade said, and Peter punched his arm.

“Unbelievable!” Peter bit out. “See if I ever help you with a mission again!” 

“But Petey!” Wade whined. “Forty million! That’s twenty each! Imagine what you could do with twenty million!”

“Imagine what Fury’s going to do to us when we get back to the base!” Peter said, effectively shutting Wade up.

They sat in a tense silence for a few minutes, before Peter spoke up. “So how legit is this lead of yours?” 

“Rock solid, Spider-Babe,” Wade replied smugly.

“Fine. After we’re done being murdered by Fury, let’s go to Virginia,” Peter conceded.


“But only if we figure out the third cipher and make sure we’re not stealing from anyone!”

“It’s from nearly a century and a half ago, if no one who was entitled to it has found it, they don’t deserve it,” Wade scoffed. 

“That’s the deal,” Peter said firmly. 

“I could go without you,” Wade said with a shrug.

“I can apologise to Fury and tell him we were just going for a joyride, and that we’re really, really sorry — or I could tell him what really happened and leave you all alone with him,” Peter offered, biting back a smile as Wade glanced out of the helicopter and realised they were descending on the base. 

“Fine, you win!” 

“Alright!” Peter laughed. “Let’s get this over with and go treasure hunting!”

Chapter Text

[Skull emoji][Poop emoji]L:Peterrrrrrr

[Skull emoji][Poop emoji]L: Im bored

Peter paused his typing to check his phone, finding two messages from Wade. He glanced back at the essay he was writing, before deciding he deserved a break. 

[Spider emoji][Peach emoji]: Hi, Bored, I’m dad

The typing notification popped up straight away and Peter bit back a laugh.

[Skull emoji][Poop emoji]L: hI bOrEd I’m DaD

[Skull emoji][Poop emoji]L: Shut up Parker.

[Skull emoji][Poop emoji]L: Seriously tho

[Skull emoji][Poop emoji]L: Where hav u been

Peter felt bad, he’d skipped patrol a couple of times and had kind of gone off the radar because he had a few big assignments and finals coming up and he needed to focus on school. It was driving him crazy, but just two more years and he’d be done with college. 

[Spider emoji][Peach emoji]: I’m sorry, Wade

[Spider emoji][Peach emoji]: School stuff

[Spider emoji][Peach emoji]: Wanna hang out tonight? 

[Skull emoji][Poop emoji]L: !!!!!

[Skull emoji][Poop emoji]L: get ur spiderbutt over here!

[Spider emoji][Peach emoji]: omw :~)

Peter closed his laptop and grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out into the warm spring evening. He made sure to stop and get twenty tacos, all of the hot sauce packets, and a couple of different bottles of soda, and when he arrived at Wade’s apartment, he already had Netflix set up.

“What are we watching?” Peter asked, taking out a couple of tacos and passing the bag with the rest to Wade. 

“I was in the mood for something scary,” Wade shrugged, “I know I’m late to jump on the bandwagon, but apparently The Conjuring is pretty scary, so…” he trailed off pressing play.

“Oh,” Peter said. Scary movies. Right. “Yeah, I’ve — I’ve never seen it either.”

Actually he’d never watched any scary movies. Except when he was young, May and Ben were watching The Shining, and they’d told him to go play in his room, that he wouldn’t like it, but he insisted on staying and watching it with them. He didn’t sleep for weeks. 

They watched the first part of the movie in silence while they ate, and, y’know, demon doll, that’s cool, that’s fine, nothing scary about a threatening toy that moves around on its own. The sun was setting quickly, and before long they were sitting in darkness as the opening title pronounced it to be ‘based on the true story.’

“Uh, what?” Peter said as he read those words. “I don’t — I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Not a fan of scary movies?” Wade teased, grinning at Peter. “Or just ones based on true stories?”

“No, it’s just —” Peter hesitated. He was Spider-Man. The things that went bump in the night were bad people, not ghosts and demons, and Peter could deal with bad people. He did it on a daily basis. “I’ve never heard of Ed and Lorraine Warren, y’know. I was just surprised.”

As the movie continued, Peter grew more uncomfortable and started moving incrementally closer to Wade. By the time [something haplened], he was practically in Wade’s lap, with Wade’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Peter flinched at a jump scare, and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up in a way not dissimilar to when his Spider Sense was warning him of danger. 

“We can turn it off if you don’t like it,” Wade offered kindly, but strangely enough Peter was kind of enjoying his proximity to Wade and the unsettled feeling in his stomach.

“No, it’s okay,” Peter said, “I’m fine.”

And he was. His heart was racing, and his adrenalin was pumping, but it was different to when he was on the streets, fighting baddies. He logically knew he wasn’t in any danger, but that didn’t stop his body from reacting to the perceived threat.

When the first movie finished, Wade yawned and stretched, lifting his arm from Peter’s shoulders, which suddenly felt cold. “Well, it wasn’t the scariest movie I’ve ever seen, but it was okay,” he said unenthusiastically. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t exactly The Shining,” Peter chuckled awkwardly, but conveniently Wade seemed to agree.

“Man, that movie was a classic!” He sighed wistfully. “I don’t think that’s on Netflix, but The Conjuring 2 is?”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter agreed, quietly relieved he wouldn’t have to revisit that particular childhood trauma tonight. 

So, Wade loaded The Conjuring 2, and Peter fell back into his place under Wade’s arm.

The second movie was completely horrifying in a way different to the first, but Peter found himself somewhat enjoying this one as well.

By the time the second movie finished, it was very late, and as dark as it ever got in the city.

“Ready to call it a night?” Wade asked, turning the television off as Peter yawned.

“Yeah,” He said, suddenly feeling uneasy in Wade’s dark apartment. The thought of walking home seemed very unappealing while he still had the creeping sensation that something was lingering just outside of his line of vision. He stood and glanced at the door. “Uh, I guess — I guess I’ll head out then.” 

“You can stay, if it’s easier,” Wade said nonchalantly. “I don’t mind sharing my bed.”

“No, it’s fine! It’s all good, I can just head out, and, y’know —”

“Peter,” Wade interrupted, giving him a flat look.

“Yeah, uh, that’d — that’d be good. Thanks. If it’s not too much trouble,” Peter said smiling guiltily. Wade just shook his head fondly and headed for the bedroom, gesturing for Peter to follow him.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Wade, I got something to show you!” Peter said as he swung over to the fire escape he and Wade had agreed to meet on the previous night.

They’d been patrolling together for a few weeks, and Peter had a big ole crush on Wade, which was dumb, because the man’s obvious come-ons were probably just his way of being friendly. 

“Is it that cutie little booty?” Wade teased, proving Peter’s point, but he wasn’t deterred. 

“Nope, but we gotta go somewhere more, uh, private,” Peter said, blushing beneath his mask as Wade waggled his eyebrows at him.

“Why, Spider-Man, you sly minx. Are you asking for me to take you back to my place?” Wade asked, and Peter crossed his arms, trying to appear bigger and more confident than he felt. Really, he was tiny compared to Wade. He had a lithe runner’s body, whereas Wade was build like a Greek god, with muscles the size of Peter’s head. 

“Yes, but I swear it’s not weird!” Peter blurted, effectively making it weird. Wade didn’t seem to mind though, because he was cool like that. 

“Alright,” He said, sounding surprised but unconcerned, “it’s a few blocks away.” 

They climbed down the fire escape and walked to Wade’s place. Peter was a bundle of nervous energy and let Wade carry the conversation (something he was really good at). 

When they arrived at Wade’s apartment, Peter was surprised to find it was neat and tidy, and quite nice. Wade must’ve sensed his shock because he laughed, pulling off his gloves and mask and rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, it’s one of my lesser used safehouses,” he shrugged, “I haven’t really had a chance to break it in yet.” 

“Oh, it’s — it’s nice,” Peter said awkwardly, looking around the warm living room with big windows looking out over a park.

“So we’re not gonna patrol tonight?” Wade asked, moving into the kitchen and getting two beers out of the fridge, offering one to Peter. 

“Oh, uh, no thank you, I don’t drink,” he said, declining to mention he wasn’t allowed. It was kind of moot, anyway, considering what Peter was about to do. “And, like, we can patrol later, if you want, or just hang out or whatever, but I had — there’s something I —” 

“You said there was something you wanted to show me?” Wade asked, opening one of the cans of beer, and sitting the other in the kitchen bench.

“Yeah,” Peter said, taking a deep breath and bracing himself. He quickly reached up and pulled his mask off, running his gloved fingers through his messy hair. He always hated how his hair sat after he’d been wearing the mask. “Uh, hi. I’m Peter,” he said, offering Wade an uncomfortable smile. 

“Ho-lee shit,” Wade said, his eyes going wide with recognition, and Peter bit his lip. “Holy shit, you’re Peter Stark.” 

“Yep, that’s — yeah,” Peter nodded. “But that doesn’t really matter, I just wanted you to know who I am because I like hanging out with you and I thought —”

“No, no,” Wade cut him off, shaking his head, “Nope, you need to leave. I’m not having Papa Stark coming down here and skinning me alive. Do you have a tracker on your suit? Because I’m pretty sure he knows all of my safehouses, and if he sees you here neither of us are gonna have a good time.” 

“Wait,” Peter said, choking back a laugh, “Are you scared of my dad?” 

“No, I’m not scared of anything,” Wade said assuredly, “I just. Don’t like pain.” 

“You’re scared of my dad,” Peter marvelled, and Wade gave him a shrewd look.

“Aren’t you?” He demanded. “Aren’t you even a little bit concerned about what he’s gonna say or do when he finds out you’ve been hanging out with me?”

“No, he’s ancient,” Peter scoffed. “He’s old news. Iron Man retired years ago, you don’t have any reason to fear him. You know that thing from The Simpsons? ‘Old man yells at cloud’? That’s basically him.” 

“Oh,” Wade said, looking a little less like he was going to bolt. 

“I mean, he’s not going to be happy,” Peter said fairly, “but I can deal with him.”

“Right,” Wade said, peering at Peter. “You’re pretty cute, you know?”

Peter blushed, but he couldn’t help the pleased smile that crossed his face.

Chapter Text

Peter didn’t always make the best decisions. It was kinda his thing. Ned’s thing was gaming and coding, Michelle’s was art and social activism, and Peter’s was Spider-Man and terrible decision making.

Luckily, Peter’s things didn’t often impact one another. He was surprisingly good at making tough calls in critical moments. It was more on a personal, Peter Parker level that the bad decisions tended to happen.

Take tonight, for example. Ned was spending the week with Betty in Florida, MJ was in some country Peter probably couldn’t even locate on the globe building houses and schools for the whole of spring break, and Peter was in their shared apartment, alone, because he’d wanted to a) study, and b) patrol. And he was bored of studying and patrolling.

So, he decided to get sloshed.

It started innocently enough, taking a sip of beer every time someone did something cringe-worthy on The Bachelorette. Naturally, this meant he’d finished two beers in less than five minutes. The last two beers in the fridge.

So, during the ad break, he went to the alcohol cupboard to consider his options.

He decided on tequila, because it had been a while since he’d let loose and gotten really drunk, and he figured he deserved to have a little fun, even if he was on his own. Plus, lately he had a real hanging for anything Mexican.

He quickly lost interest in The Bachelorette and started looking through random things on his phone. He ended up on Groupon and spontaneously purchased a weekend getaway to Cape Cod. He didn’t have any transportation, or a plus one, but that didn’t really matter. He’d figure that out later.

He also bought a limited edition Detective Pikachu plushie that he wasn’t going to think too hard on or try to justify, even to himself.

After more than half the bottle of tequila, he was starting to feel dizzy. The room was definitely spinning. He decided that was enough drinking, and drank a big glass of water, before realising if he wasn’t drinking anymore, he didn’t have anything else to do, and would go back to being bored.

“No good,” he said to himself, scratching his nose which was unbelievably itchy all of a sudden. “Wade!” He said, looking around for his phone. He’d left it — somewhere. “Come on, I just had you, like, eleven-teen seconds ago!”

He stumbled back to the lounge room and found it on the couch. He quickly unlocked it and sent a text to Wade.

Peter[B]: he

Peter[B]: com over I’m so bird

He sat looking at his phone expectantly, when suddenly it began vibrating in his hand. He giggled at the tickling sensation, enjoying it for a moment longer before realising Wade was calling him.

“Sorry, sorry, felt funny,” Peter laughed as he answered the call.

“Are you okay Peter?” Wade said, sounding concerned.

“Aw, are you worried about me?” Peter asked, his heart feeling full. Maybe — maybe it was reflux. From the tequila.

“Yeah, you don’t sound so good,” Wade said, “Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes!” Peter said immediately. “That’s what I was trying to tell you! I said ‘come over, I’m bored.’”

“Oh, that’s what that was?” Wade chuckled, and Peter enjoyed the sound immensely. A deep noise of contentment snuck out of his throat without his consent. “I’ll be there soon. Have you been drinking?”

“Uh,” Peter said, trying to think back on his night leading up to this conversation. “Indubitably.”

“Okay, well how about we ease up on the liquor and have some water, and I’ll be there in a few minutes, alright?” Wade said, sounding amused, and Peter nodded.

“Yes,” He said, once he realised Wade couldn’t see him. “Okay, see you later.”

“Okay, baby boy, I’m gonna hang up now, alright?”

“Wait — wait!”


“Can — can you bring some tacos? You ruined me,” Peter said, and Wade laughed loudly.

“Yeah, alright, Pete. On my way, with tacos,” Wade said before hanging up.

Peter sighed happily and flopped back on the couch.

He didn’t think he fell asleep, because he doesn’t sleep very well when he’s drunk, but it felt like literal seconds later when the door knocked. He leapt of the couch and could feel the big, goofy grin on his face as he opened the door to let Wade in.

“You came!” He cheered, surreptitiously checking for tacos. Wade rolled his eye and held up the greasy paper bag. “Thank you, my hero,” Peter said, taking the bag, opening it, and sticking his face inside to inhale the warm, spicy scent. “Oh, my god, so good!”

“Alright, let’s sit down,” Wade said, guiding Peter over to the couch, “you’re stumbling around like Bambi.”

“Am I?” Peter asked, unwrapping a taco and half-eating it in one bit. “I think I’m doin’ okay for half’a bottle of tequila.”

“Holy shit, kid, half a bottle?” Wade said, sounding impressed. “A lesser man’d be in hospital.”

“Lucky I’m me,” Peter grinned through his mouthful of taco, and Wade rolled his eyes, but didn’t look offended. “And thank god you’re you — you’re amazing, did you know that?” Peter asked, gesturing at Wade with the bag of tacos. “Do you know how many other people have brought me tacos today? None!”

“Inconsiderate bastards,” Wade said, and Peter nodded his head in agreement, before promptly stopping — it made the room all topsy turvey.

“Will you come to Cape Cod with me?” Peter asked, setting the tacos aside and leaning back into the couch, resting his head against Wade’s shoulder.

“Um. What?”

“I booked a romantic getaway to Cape Cod. Just — just go with it,” Peter advised. “Don’t even ask about Pikachu.”

“Well, now I kind of want to,” Wade said, sounding bewildered, “but back on Cape Cod. You want me to go on a romantic getaway with you?”

“Well, yeah,” Peter said, closing his eyes and listening to the relaxing, rhythmic beating of Wade’s heart. “You’re my person.”

“I’m your person?”

“Yeah, like, the person you can tell anything and do anything with and they’ll never judge you or leave you. My person,” Peter said firmly, patting Wade’s chest. “Hey,” Peter said, sitting up and looking at Wade, his inhibitions well and truly out the window. “Can I kiss you?”

“No,” Wade said immediately, and Peter dropped his gaze, shifting back on the couch.

“Oh. I thought — sorry,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling sick.

“No, no, no, don’t look like that,” Wade said, gently taking his hand and stroking the back of it with his thumb, “I mean — no, I don’t want you to kiss me right now while you’re all drunk and, well, incapacitated,” he winced as he said the word, and Peter felt dreadful.

“Right, yeah, I get it,” he said, pulling his hand out of Wade’s and standing, swaying slightly.

“Whoa, slow down Peter,” Wade said, suddenly in his space, steadying him. “I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret sober, okay? If you want to sleep this off and kiss me in the morning, well, gods, you don’t even need to ask. But right now, you’re — you bought a weekend getaway to Cape Cod and did something unmentionable to Pikachu, so…”

Peter didn’t even listen to the rest of what Wade said, immediately perking up. “I can kiss you in the morning?” He asked, looking up at Wade.

“Once you’re fully sober and awake and able to give consent, then yes, we can kiss as much as you like,” Wade smiled, booping Peter’s nose.

“Okay, then let’s go to bed!” Peter said, grabbing Wade’s hand and trying to drag him to the bedroom.

“I think you’re missing the point, Petey,” Wade said, unmoving.

“No, not like that!” Peter sighed, exasperated. “The sooner we go to bed and sleep, the sooner it will be morning and the kissing can start! And then we gotta figure out a hire car or book a bus ticket or something, because I have no idea how we’re going to get to Cape Cod…”

So, Wade relented and allowed Peter to take him to bed. And even though Peter’s head was spinning, he couldn’t help but fall into an easy sleep when he was wrapped in Wade’s arms.

Chapter Text

“We don’t have to do this, you know, we can grab some Mexican and just head home for a night in,” Peter suggested, and Wade looked at him from across the bench seat in the back of the cab.

“Do you not want me to meet your aunt?” Wade teased, and Peter looked guilty. They’d already been dating a while, and Wade knew he still had issues with people from his work life meeting his aunt.

“It’s not that,” Peter said, “May’s really overbearing. And overprotective. And overall really hard on anyone I’ve brought home in the past.”

“I can handle it,” Wade said reaching across and taking Peter’s hand.

“I don’t know if I can,” Peter mumbled. “I love her, but, honestly, she’s scared off three of my partners.”

“I don’t scare easily,” Wade promised, kissing the back of Peter’s hand as the cab pulled over in front of a large apartment complex. Wade paid the drive and followed Peter out of the car.

“Are you sure?” Peter asked for the third time since they’d left, stopping just short of the entrance and turning around to give Wade a piercing look. “I can tell May there was a Spider-Man emergency.”

“Peter,” Wade said, cupping is stupid boyfriend’s cute face. “We’re here. I’m not wearing my mask or my suit. You spent twenty minutes gelling your hair just right. We survived telling the A-holes, we can survive a nice dinner with your aunt.”

“Okay,” Peter said, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. God, I hope she ordered takeout and didn’t try to cook.”

Peter took Wade’s hand and determinedly lead him into the apartment complex and up several flights of stairs. Just as they stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall, Wade realised maybe he shouldn’t have pushed so hard for this, and the nerves really kicked in.

“Okay, we got this,” Peter said, knocking on the door.

The first thing Wade thought when the door opened was, hello mama, which was a really weird thing to think about his boyfriend’s aunt, but. When Peter said she was in her fifties he was imagining an Angela Lansbury type, and was quickly realising he had no grasp on age. He couldn’t even remember how old he was at this stage.

“Peter, hi!” May said, pulling her nephew into a hug, kissing his cheek while Wade stood back awkwardly.

“Hi Aunt May,” Peter said, sounding a little breathless.

When they broke apart, May gave Wade an assessing look. “And you must be Wade,” she said, smiling kindly.

“Y-yes ma’am, it’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” Wade said, holding out his hand, but May swatted it away and pulled him into a hug as well.

“It’s nice to meet you too, sweetie, but call me May,” she said, and Wade gave Peter a questioning look over her shoulder. Peter looked confused, but just shrugged. “Well, come on in boys, dinner’s almost ready.”

“Oh, May, you didn’t have to cook,” Peter said as May led them into the apartment. “You really shouldn’t have. Gone — gone to the trouble, I mean.”

“Peter thinks I’m a bad cook,” May said conspiratorially to Wade.

“Well, it smells great in here,” Wade lied with a small chuckle. It smelled burnt. The oven looked like it was smoking a little.

“Thank you! Peter mentioned you like Mexican food, so I made enchiladas,” May said, grabbing some plates out of the cupboard. She handed the plates to Peter, and pointed to a drawer next to the sink. “Will you grab some cutlery and go set the table, hon?”

“Oh, uh,” Peter said, giving Wade a panicked look that Wade was certain was reflected on his own face. “Yeah, I guess that’s — fine,” Peter said, balancing the plates in one hand as he took some knives and forks from the cutlery drawer. “I’ll — I’ll be back in a sec!”

“So, Wade,” May said, leaning against the counter and giving him a friendly smile once Peter was out of the kitchen. He didn’t know if she was purposely being intimidating, but if she was she was doing a hell of a job. “Tell me about yourself. What do you do for work?”

“I’m a mercenary!” Wade blurted, and May gave him a surprised look. But it didn’t look like the kind of surprise where she was shocked by his career path. It looked like the kind of surprise that suggested she wasn’t expecting him to tell the truth. “I mean, I used to be a mercenary. I guess technically I still am? But I take contracts from SHI—uh. I take contracts from a government agency, now.”

“And how did you and Peter meet?” May asked. “I asked him, all he said was you met through work.”

“Well, that’s true,” Wade said, thinking back to when he’d first met Peter a couple of years back. “I threw a photographer from The Bugle off a bridge and then Spider-Man showed up and kicked the shit out of me, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“You threw my nephew off a bridge?” May said, her eyes narrowing at Wade.

“Yeah. It was a real meet-cute,” Wade said, trying for a charming smile that must have worked, because May laughed and shook her head.

“Well, I’ll give you points for honesty,” May said as Peter re-entered the kitchen.

“What were you being honest about?” Peter asked as May seemed to realise the oven was smoking, and took out the slightly over-cooked enchiladas.

“He was telling me how you met, and he went into a lot more detail than you did, Peter Parker,” May said smoothly, carrying the tray of enchiladas out into the dining room.

“God, don’t remind me,” Peter groaned, glaring at Wade.

“Hey, I don’t throw people out of moving cars anymore,” Wade said, holding his hands up innocently. Peter opened his mouth to retort, but May appeared in the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a salad bowl and a pitcher of water and handing them to Peter.

“Anyway,” she said, “let’s eat.”

The three of them sat at the dining table and loaded their plates. Wade looked down at his crunchy, burnt enchiladas and internally shrugged, picking up his knife and fork and taking a bite. It was somehow cold in the middle. But, it was still Mexican, and it was a home cooked meal, and he was kinda touched that she’d cooked Mexican food for him, so...

“This — this is really tasty, May,” Peter said, forcing down his own bite, and Wade had to stop himself from laughing at the look on his face. May gave her nephew an unimpressed look.

“I know they’re a little overcooked, but they’re alright,” she said defensively, taking a bite and grimacing. “And cold in the middle,” she sighed, putting down her knife and fork. “Wade, sweetie, you don’t have to eat those, I’ll order some pizza.”

Wade had already finished his first enchilada and was starting on the second. “No, they’re really good, Mrs. Parker — uh, May,” he said around a mouthful. “I’ll eat anything, and I love burnt cheese!”

“Wade, I know you can’t die, but you can still get very bad food poisoning,” Peter said, and May reached across the table and smacked him up the side of his head. “Ow!” Peter laughed.

“You’re such an ingrate,” May grumbled, but she was smiling too. She pushed her seat away from the table and stood up. “I’ll go order some pizza from the place around the corner. Peter, will you run down and grab them for me?”

“Can’t you get them delivered?” Peter asked quickly, glancing between his aunt and Wade.

“Don’t be so lazy, Peter, it’ll give me a chance to get to know your aunt,” Wade grinned, and Peter gave him a look of utmost betrayal.

“Oh, I think I like this one,” May said, patting Wade’s shoulder as she passed him and went into the kitchen, coming back out a moment later with her phone.

“Fine,” Peter said, standing up and kissing Wade’s cheek before whispering in his ear. “Don’t come crying to me when she turns on you,” he said sweetly, sashaying out of the apartment while May tapped out her order on her phone, her giant grandma glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Except, she looked young enough they made her look like a hipster or a hot librarian instead of a grandma.

“Alright, done,” she said a few moments later, placing her phone on the table and taking her glasses off. “Now, where were we, Wade?”

“Um, I’d just told you how Peter and I met,” he said shifting guiltily in his seat.

“Are you good to my nephew?” May asked, crossing her arms and staring Wade down.

“Mostly,” Wade said after a long pause. “He can do so much better than me. He’s such a good, kind person and I’m — I’m so broken. But, I don’t know, he’s like the little angel on my shoulder. And, no offence, but ya boy uptight,” Wade said, and May laughed, nodding her head. “I like to think that I’m good for him too. I’m a pretty laid back guy, and I feel like he doesn’t worry as much these days.”

“Well, that’s good,” May said. “God, I worry about him, though. And you — you have his back, don’t you? When you’re out, doing your hero thing?”

“I’m not much of a hero, ma’am,” Wade admitted, “but I’ve always got Peter’s back.”

“Then, that’s all that really matters to me,” May smiled, and the knot in his stomach loosened for the first time all night.

“So, you’re not gonna chase me off?” He couldn’t help asking, and May threw her head back, laughing loudly.

“No, you’re fine, Wade. Did Peter tell you about that Harry Osborn?” She asked, wiping a tear from her eye. “Him and his father were both crooks, of course I wasn’t going to let him date my boy!”

“No, he didn’t tell me, but I’d love to know,” Wade said, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his palm.

Chapter Text

Peter stifled a yawn as he did one last sweep of the neighbourhood before heading home. It would be understating it to say he was exhausted to his bones.

He’d been more distracted on patrol lately because he had finals coming up at uni,  and he hadn’t been sleeping well because his new neighbour like to play nineties RnB at all hours. Tonight, Rhino had flattened him before Peter managed to get the upper hand, so now he was beaten and bruised as well as tired, and he may have had a teensy concussion.

He didn’t really notice anything out of the ordinary as he climbed through the lounge room window of his apartment, only that he’d thought he’d left a light on before he went on patrol because he didn’t like coming home to a dark apartment, but right now he was too tired to care.

His bedroom was too far for him to walk, and he didn’t even bother pulling his mask off before crashing on the couch, which was was way softer than he remembered. He fell asleep within moments.

The next thing he knew, he was been woken by a loud screeching, sunlight filtering through the window and making his eyes hurt.

“Oh-em-gee! Spider-Man is on my couch!”

“Wuzzgoinon?” Peter mumbled, sitting up and looking around. This — this wasn’t his apartment. And that was Deadpool standing in the doorway of the bedroom, making the Home Alone face. “Oh, my god, Deadpool, you’re my new neighbour?” Peter demanded, jumping to his feet, immediately on edge.

“You live in this complex?” Wade gasped. “Wait, wait, you’re the one that broke into my apartment, why are you looking all fight-y?”

Peter rolled his shoulders and tried to relax. “Sorry. I — I was really tired last night and must’ve got the wrong window.”

“I can’t believe I live in the same building as Spider-Man,” Wade said dreamily, ignoring Peter. “This is destiny! This is fate, bringing us together, baby boy!”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Peter said flatly. “I’m gonna go. Sorry, again, and please don’t harass any of our neighbours, trying to figure out which one I am.”

“Wait, don’t go!” Wade called, but Peter was already climbing out the window and crawling up to the roof where he proceeded to have a mini-freak out while he changed into the stash of clothes he kept in a hidden backpack up there.

So, he lived next to Deadpool. It could be a lot worse, there were a lot of other people Peter would be very unlucky to live near, but. Deadpool was. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

He took a couple of deep breaths and shoved his suit into his backpack, shouldering the bag and heading downstairs. He tried not to break his stride when he spotted Deadpool leaning against the wall between their doors, his arms crossed.

“Hey, 3B,” Wade said, and Peter flicked his eyes up to him briefly before taking out his keys and unlocking his door.

“You must be 3C,” Peter said stiffly, deciding to play dumb. “What’s with the suit?”

“You’re up early,” Wade noted, ignoring Peter’s question completely.

“Yeah, uh, worked the night shift,” Peter said, feigning a yawn.

“But you were coming down the stairs, from the roof,” Wade grinned, and Peter scowled.

“I was up there having a cigarette,” he lied, and Wade gasped.

“Spidey, you smoke?”

“Shut up, Wade,” Peter sighed impatiently, giving up and opening the door to his apartment.

“Wanna come around for dinner? Say, six?” Wade asked, sounding saccharine sweet.

“Yes, please, that’d be nice,” Peter said, stepping inside his apartment and slamming the door in Wade’s face.

Chapter Text

Peter pulled out his phone as he left his last class of the day, heading out into the afternoon sunshine and thanking what ever deity made his professor decide to let them off early. It was date night, and he hadn’t seen Wade in a few days, so he was looking forward to catching up with him.

Wade answered the call on the sixth ring. “Hey.”

“Hey! I’m done with uni for the day so I wanted to see if you’d maybe want to grab an early dinner, then go see a movie?” Peter said, walking through the campus and heading for the bus. Wade was quiet for a few moments.

“Uh, not really,” he said eventually, and Peter’s face twisted into a frown. Wade was always excited and chatty when they talked on the phone, and always up for anything Peter suggested.

“Okay, well, there’s going to be night markets in the park by my apartment, maybe we can check those out and get something to eat there?” Peter suggested.

“Yeah, I’m actually pretty tired, so, I think I’m just gonna spend the night in,” Wade said flatly.

“Oh, okay,” Peter said, trying not to sound hurt, “Well, maybe I can come over and —”

“Look, Peter, I gotta go. We’ll talk later, or something,” Wade said, hanging up before Peter had a chance to respond.

Peter’s eyes started stinging embarrassingly, and he shook his head, blinking hard. Wade had never been so abrupt with him before, had never really dismissed him like that. And it was fine, Wade could have a life, and be tired, but he’d just hung up on Peter without even saying goodbye!

No, Wade wasn’t like that. Peter decided that something must have been seriously wrong, and he was going to check on him.

An hour later (god bless public transport — between delays and pushy commuters, it was a miracle it hadn’t taken longer), he was standing in front of Wade’s apartment door, working up the courage to knock.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, finally knocking. It was only Wade, and everything was probably fine. There was no reason to be this anxious.

Wade opened the door wearing nothing but his mask, a pair of boxers, and an untied bath robe, holding a stack of cash. “Oh,” he said, sounding unimpressed, “You’re not the pizza guy.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t think to bring food. Can I come in?” Peter asked, and Wade sighed, stepping aside and allowing Peter into the apartment. “You sounded kind of upset before, and so I thought I’d come and check on you. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Wade said, closing the door behind Peter and crossing his arms.

“Okay,” Peter said dubiously. “That’s good. So, what have you been up to lately?”

“Nothing,” Wade said, and Peter was really starting to worry. Wade didn’t do one word answers.

Peter looked around the apartment which was a little messier than usual, and spotted a trashy magazine on the table — one with himself and Tony Stark on the cover.

“Can you believe this rubbish?” Peter said, grasping for conversation as he picked up the magazine and flicked to the article. It had been published the day before with photos of when Tony and Peter had gone out to grab a bite to week a few weeks ago. They’d come out of a three-day bender in the workshop, starving and unable to think straight and just headed for the closest, greasiest burger joint to the Tower that was still open at three in the morning, and chowed down.

It was only on Peter’s third burger that he started feeling human again, and realised he was actually freezing cold. Tony had handed him his coat for the walk back to the Tower, and Peter wasn’t sure what the paparazzi were doing out at that time of night, but he’d been snapped wearing Tony’s coat. The front page proudly boasted ‘The Inside Scoop on Tony Stark’s New Boy-Toy.’

One of his classmates had boldly cornered Peter and showed him the article earlier that day, demanding to know if it was true. Peter read through the feature, which claimed an inside source said that he’d been dating Tony for months and were trying to keep a low profile, only going on dates after dark where they thought no one would spot them. He’d quickly assured his classmate this was complete nonsense, and he and Tony were only close because of his internship, which kept him at the lab until all hours.

“Look, I get it,” Wade said, sounding defeated. “We never said we were exclusive, so if you want to leave me for Tony Stark —”

“Ew, no,” Peter interrupted, horrified. “Tony’s like a father to me, Wade!” Peter looked down at the article, then back up at Wade. “Is this why you were upset? You — you actually believed I’d do this to you?”

“Well, it’s not that big of a leap, I mean — look at Tony Stark, and then look at me,” Wade said defensively, and Peter felt terrible, wondering just how deep Wade’s insecurities ran.

“You’re right, we never said we were exclusive, so let me say it now,” Peter said, tossing the magazine aside and crossing the room and hesitantly playing with the edge of Wade’s mask. When he made no move to stop him, Peter slowly pulled it off and gently cupped Wade’s face in his hands. “I only want to be with you. I want to be your boyfriend, and go on dates, and I don’t want to be with Tony Stark or anyone else. I’m actually kind of in love with you.”

“You are?” Wade asked quietly, looking hopeful.

“Yes,” Peter said, bouncing up on his toes to press a soft kiss to Wade’s lips. “Please just talk to me if you’re upset about something, alright? I don’t want you worrying that I’m running around with someone else or anything like that.”

“I’m sorry, baby boy,” Wade muttered, and Peter kissed his cheek.

“It’s okay. Want to wait for that pizza and then go see a movie?” He offered, taking Wade’s hand and dragging him over to the couch.

“Nah, I feel like staying in tonight,” Wade grinned, pinching Peter’s butt.

“Okay, handsy,” Peter laughed, climbing on top of Wade and kissing him deeply, hoping to remind him just how fond of him Peter truly was.

Chapter Text

Peter breathed a deep sigh of relief as he shifted into sixth, accelerating until the needle nudged 90 with the glow of the city in his rear-view mirror. He and Wade had another fight. It seemed to be all they’d do lately.

Peter would get go off on his own and get hurt, Wade would cause injury or property damage, Peter left his dirty laundry lying around, Wade shot bullets through the dry wall — there was always something to argue about, and Peter was exhausted.

Tonight it had been a clip show, starting with a subtle, ‘we should find our own place and stop living on the coattail of Stark,’ and going through all of their greatest hits until Peter had snapped, “Forget it, leave if you want, I’m sure as hell going to,” and stormed out of the apartment.

It was well after midnight when Peter borrowed one of Tony’s sports cars, deciding to head upstate. He just needed a little break. They both did. Peter felt like he could finally breathe, out on the open road, a blues song playing on the radio.

Things had been good when they had first moved into the Tower, and sometimes they were still good. It’s just, Peter had pretty much always been on his own, and so had Wade, and having another person constantly in your space can get overwhelming. It was just a little bump, right?

There were hardly any other cars on the road, and Peter barely recognised his surroundings, having only been in the driver’s seat once or twice on the trip to the compound, always with someone in the passenger seat giving him directions. He doubted the compound would come up on Google Maps, even if he hadn’t shoved his phone in the glove box so he didn’t see the screen light up every two minutes with a new call from Wade.

Part of him felt bad for leaving like that, but he was so sick and tired of the constant fighting! And he had no idea how to make things better.

Once he’d well and truly left the city behind, Peter wound down the windows and let the fresh air and summer breeze flow through the car. He was pretty sure there was a diner somewhere close by, and he decided maybe he should take a break and. Try and figure out exactly how to get to the compound before he ended up driving around in circles for hours, growing increasingly frustrated.

Within five minutes, he’d spotted the ‘Turn Left Here! - Sue’s Diner’ sign, and followed a narrow road into a small strip of houses with a brightly lit diner at the far end.

He parked the car and sat for a moment, before reluctantly taking his phone out of the glovebox.

12 missed calls.

Peter sighed and swiped the notification, and Wade answered on the first ring.


“Yeah,” Peter said softly.

“I’m so — are you okay? Where are you?”

“Just went for a ride,” Peter replied hesitantly. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk to Wade, and he didn’t know if he could keep his temper in check if Wade started on him again.

“Are you far?”

“Prob’ly halfway to the compound.”



There was silence for a minute, and Peter had just opened his mouth to say goodbye, when Wade spoke again.

“Sometimes I feel so alone, and then I remember I got you. Been trying hard not to get into trouble, but I got a war in my mind, Pete, and I just want to be with you and protect you and I don’t know how to do that without pissing you off.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Peter said automatically, and Wade said nothing, but his silence sounded dubious. “I know you’re doing your best,” Peter conceded eventually, “but maybe we just need some time apart—”

“Don’t leave me now, Pete. We can work this out, yeah?”

“Maybe,” Peter said absently. He really loved Wade, and he wanted their relationship to work… “Things can’t keep going they way they have been, though, Wade, I can’t keep fighting with you every day of my life. I feel like I’m going insane, and I’m tired of feeling like I’m fucking crazy!”

“Hey, that’s not my name! It’s Wade, and I prefer you call it ‘making love’.”

Peter smiled despite himself. “I’m gonna spend a couple of days at the compound — if I can ever find it — and we’ll talk more when I get home, okay?”

“Talk-talk, or shout-talk?”

“Don’t push it,” Peter chuckled quietly, and Wade did too.

“I love you, Baby Boy. We’ve dealt with way worse than a little relationship stagnation.”

“Yeah, we have,” Peter agreed, smiling softly. “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Peter was looking forward to a quiet night in with Wade.

Things were peaceful between them, lately. There hadn’t been any need to patrol late, no end-of-the-world scenarios, no one was injured, and they hadn’t even been fighting between themselves.

They’d ordered pizza, and were scrolling through Disney+ trying to determine which movie they should watch. Wade suggested Tangled, and Peter agreed, even though it wasn’t his favourite. Things were too good to argue.

They spent the evening slumped next to each other on the couch, eating pizza and joking. Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.

Chapter Text

“I want to meet your friends,” Peter had said.

“No you don’t,” Wade had replied firmly, not even looking away from Call of Duty.

“You met my friends,” Peter said, and Wade snorted.

“Yeah, that went well.”

Peter couldn’t argue that one — the Avengers had begrudgingly accepted Wade into their midst during an all-hands-on-deck situation.

“I still want to meet your friends,” Peter had pouted, and Wade had rolled his eyes in apparent agreement, because now they were standing outside Sister Margaret’s and Peter was wondering if this was a Bad Idea.

“Not to late to get Chinese and go home,” Wade offered, side-eyeing him. Peter just squared his shoulders and headed into the bar, Wade trailing behind him. Once inside, Wade huffed and took Peter’s hand, dragging him through the moderately crowded floor towards the bar.

“I feel like everyone’s staring at me,” Peter muttered to Wade as they stopped at the end of the bar.

“They are,” said the greasy, bespectacled bartender. “It’s not every day this prostate cancer looking mother fucker brings in hot jailbait.”

Peter blinked, and Wade sighed.

“Peter meet Weasel.”

“Oh,” Weasel said, sneering at Peter. “You’re the boy-toy.”

Peter glanced at Wade, before looking back at Weasel. “I guess so. Whenever wade talked about you, I always wondered how you got your name, but, uh,” Peter gestured towards Weasel, and a couple of the patrons and Wade laughed. Weasel looked like he was sucking on a lemon.

“Alright, did you two just come here to scare off paying customers or are you actually going to buy something?”

“Oh, Wease, you know my money’s no good here,” Wade said lightly. “I’ll have a mango daiquiri, and Peter?”

Peter’s gaze slid across the dusty bottles of alcohol and the grimy glasses. “I’m — I’m good, thanks.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you to have to bust out the fake ID,” Weasel rolled his eyes, before turning away.

“Be a dear and bring it out the back,” Wade called after him before taking Peter’s hand and leading him down a narrow, dark hallway. “So that was Weasel, he hates everyone.”

“He picked a good career, then,” Peter said, feeling a little put-off. “Nice and quiet, little human interaction…”

“Don’t let it get to you, he’ll warm up to you. Or,” wade said thoughtfully, “you’ll get used to it.”

“Right,” Peter said as they suddenly stopped in front of a closed door with a STAFF ONLY sign.

“Fair warning, Nate’s not much friendlier and Dom can be a little overbearing,” Wade said before opening the door.

“Wait, do you mean Nate as in—?” Peter cut off as the door swung open. Cable was hunched over a beaten, old table, looking at blueprints. There was a woman lying on a tattered couch in the corner, twirling a knife.

There was also a man who cut himself off from what seemed like an impassioned monologue as soon as they entered with a cry of, “DP! You have finally brought the love of your life to meet us!”

“Ixnay onway ethay ovelay ofway ymay ifelay,” Wade hissed, and Peter was almost too distracted by mentally translating to notice Cable looking up from the blueprints and staring him down.

“Wade, I know you’re bored and lonely, but what do you plan on doing with a twenty-two year old college student?” Cable addressed Wade but kept his eyes trained on Peter.

Peter felt his skin crawl, and he didn’t like Cable’s implication.

“Buy him pretty things and dick him down good?” Wade offered, and the woman on the couch snorted.

“I’m Domino,” she looked at Peter with a smirk. “What makes you fucked up enough to date Wilson?”

“Uh,” Peter said dumbly. “I — I don’t think I’m fucked up, ma’am, I’m just — just a twenty-two year old college student. There’s nothing special about me,” he said, sending a little glare towards Cable, who was also smirking.

“You’re special to me!” Wade cried.

“You really are,” the other man who hadn’t introduced himself said earnestly. “Mr. Pool has not stopped talking about you in months!”

“Dopinder! Now is when we zip it!” Wade hissed, and the man mimed zipping his lips shut with a guilty smile.

“So if there’s nothing special about you, what makes you think you can keep Wade’s interest?” Cable asked conversationally, and Wade groaned.

Peter was speechless.

Cable and Domino were both looking at him expectantly, and Dopinder looked like he was bursting to say something. Peter glanced at Wade, who looked annoyed.

“Peter is the most interesting person I’ve ever met. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and the smartest of smarts—”

“Sounds like the whole package,” Cable said condescendingly.

“Yeah, a real catch,” Domino added.

“Fuck you guys,” Wade snarled, “I brought Peter here because he wanted to meet my friends, he wants to be apart of my life, but if you’re going to treat him like this, maybe I’ll start a new team. X-League. A-League? No, that’s soccer. I’ll figure something out!”

“Wade,” Peter said softly, touching his arm hesitantly, “it’s okay. So your friends don’t like me, big deal. It’s not like Stark’s thrilled I’m dating you.”

“But Peter,” Wade replied quietly, “they don’t have to like you, but they at least have to respect you.”

“No, they don’t. Not now, at least. I can earn it, though, right? You can’t just give up your friends and team because they don’t like me. And if you start a new team, they’ll probably all die again, and then I’d have their blood on my hands. You don’t want their blood on my hands, do you?” Peter asked, grinning at Wade, who gave him a small smile in return.

“And another thing,” Weasel said, bursting into the room with a yellow cocktail in one hand. “You’re short. Like, way too short for Wade. What are you, four-foot-nine?”

“It’s okay, Weasel,” Domino said, grinning at Peter. “He passed the test.”

“The test?” Peter and Wade said at the same time.

“He did?” Weasel said sounding disappointed. “I wasn’t done giving him shit. You look like Bambi,” he told Peter, his tone implying this wasn’t a good thing.

“You were testing me?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved.

“Yeah, and obviously you can handle us, so surely you can handle Wade,” Domino shrugged.

“Hey!” Wade protested, before shrugging. “Fair call.”

“I knew you were perfect for Mr. Pool!” Dopinder cheered.

Peter couldn’t help looking at Cable, embarrassingly seeking his approval too.

“I’ve seen your past,” Cable said carefully. “I know what you have been through, and to become the man you are today takes great strength. One day, you will surely be the best amongst us.”

Peter felt slightly raw and very uncomfortable, so he laughed it off. “Hear that, babe?” He asked Wade. “I’m the best!”

“You sure are, pumpkin-butt,” Wade grinned back. 

Chapter Text

“Daddy’s home,” Wade announced, flinging the door open and stomping into the apartment. The dark, quiet apartment. “Peter?”

{He’s probably left you.}

[Nah, Petey loves us. Check the bedroom, he’s probably just sleeping.]

“Baby Boy does nap a lot,” Wade agreed, heading to their bedroom and spotting Peter fast asleep on his stomach with one arm tucked under the pillow, and his sweatpants clad behind poking out from the duvet that was twisted around his legs.

[Dat ass]

Wade could practically hear Yellow’s heart-eyes emoji, and privately agreed. He’d been thinking about almost nothing but Peter’s booty for the last three weeks while he was on a job with Cable, and really, all he wanted to do was bury his face in it.

{He’s asleep.}

[Your point?]

“His point is Petey’ll be made if we wake him up for sexytimes,” Wade pouted.

[So don’t wake him.]

“Not your best argument,” Wade rolled his eyes and carefully climbed onto the foot of the bed, using all of his special mercenary skillz to keep quiet and not jostle the bed. Peter huffed in his sleep and adorably nuzzled further into the pillow. Wade reached out and cupped Peter’s firm butt in his hands and sighed happily. He missed this ass.

“Peter,” Wade called softly, hooking his fingertips over the edge of Peter’s sweatpants. Peter didn’t stir, so Wade carefully tugged the sweatpants down, resting below his perfect, pretty cheeks.

{His fresh baked buns.}

[His big juicy doubles.]

“His perfectly ripe peach emoji butt,” Wade said fondly.

“Wade?” Peter asked quietly, peering sleepily over his shoulder at Wade.

“Hey babe! I’m home!”

“Whatcha doin’ down there?” Peter said around a yawn.

“Uh,” Wade said, looking down at his hands framing Peter’s buttcheeks, having slightly spread them apart.


“Welcome home sex?” Wade offered, and Peter giggled, arching his back and settling into his pillow.

“Sure, s’long as I don’t have to move,” Peter said, his eyes sliding shut. “Bon appétit.”

“You got it boss,” Wade said, diving face-first into Peter’s heavenly booty.