Chapter Text
“Spidey, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Peter ignored the way his voice broke. “You better start explaining, because it looks pretty fucking bad from here, Wade,” he spoke through gritted teeth and with clenched fists.
“They were— They were looking for you. They were gonna use me as bait. Again. Only this time they had orders to kill you on sight and I—“
“And you thought you’d just kill them instead!?” Peter fought the urge to punch the mercenary in the face. He’d been doing so good and now it was all back to normal. This was exactly what he hated about Deadpool. This was exactly what he would always hate about Deadpool.
“They were gonna hurt you! I couldn’t just fucking let them!” He argued. “I don’t care what you think about me, they would’ve killed you and it’s my fucking fault that you’re alive. And if making sure you’re okay means causing you to hate me, I’m alright with that.”
Peter tried not to think about how twistedly sweet that was. “You killed— Wade, you’ve been doing so well and you just went and fucked it all up!” He ran a hand through his hair. “How could you even— I thought you were actually getting better! I was even starting to— To…” He didn’t know how to say it, so instead he figured he’d let the silence speak for itself.
Wade clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “You’re fucking kidding right!?” He erupted. “I did that to save you!”
“I can save myse—“
“No you fucking can’t! Your stupid no-murder policy’s got you and hundreds of other people hurt! And I wasn’t gonna let that happen again!”
“Why the hell not?” Peter yelled.
“Because I love you, you fucking asshat!”
Peter froze. His mind seemed to stop thinking and his heart stopped beating. He’d known about the crush, he’d known about the flirting. But love? That was completely different. “You what?”
“I love you,” Wade’s voice was nearly a whisper. “I don’t know the details or the terms but I… I know I wanna hold your stupid hand and kiss your idiot face and—and” he stuttered, gesturing wildly as though it’d help him get his point across. “And I wanna move into your apartment and set off the smoke alarm while trying to cook for you and I wanna crawl into bed next to you after a tough day and watch Star Trek with your nerdy ass for hours on end and… And yeah, I love you.”
Was he supposed to laugh? Cry? Kiss him? The last one seemed the most doable, but it was also the most risky. If Peter kissed him now, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“This long, awkward silence can only be a good thing,” Wade commented.
Peter figured he probably had to say something. “You’re in love with me?”
“Seriously? I just went to the trouble of spitting a big dramatic confession and you have to ask?” He scoffed. “Thought you were supposed to be, like, a genius.”
“You’re in love with me?” Peter really wanted to stop repeating the question, but he was pretty sure he couldn’t survive much longer without at least a bit of an explanation.
“Nope.” Wade gestured and turned around to walk away. “Nope. I was just kidding. Man, you should’a seen your face. I mean, I’d have liked to see it too, but—“
“This isn’t a joke?” It was stupid question. Wade was good at jokes, but this wasn’t the kind of thing he liked to make fun of.
“I’m starting to wish it was,” the mercenary admitted.
“Why?”
Wade shrugged and looked down at his feet. “Well first of all, you’re not taking it very well and I’m starting to think—“
“No,” Peter stopped him. “Why are you in love with me? I’m just… I’m me, you know?”
The mercenary laughed. “You’re shitting me,” he said. “Just you? You’re… You know, I’m not even having this conversation. See you, Spidey.” He shot a grappling hook through the window and was about to get the hell out of there when a loud boom shook the walls.
Twenty heavily armed men burst through the doors, all dressed in black and with the same alien-looking weapons as the ones from before. “Get down or we shoot!” One of them yelled.
Peter got ready to web them to the walls when a sharp pain shot through his chest. The pain increased exponentially for what felt like hours before Peter couldn’t keep awake. His eyelids got heavy and his muscles got weak and everything started going black.
***
He awoke to the sound of someone yelling. It took a few seconds for his sight to return, but he could tell the voice next to him was Wade’s. “Let him go or I swear I’ll rip out your prostate and feed it to your mother!” He was speaking through gritted teeth, and sounded disturbingly serious about his threat.
“Where…?” Peter mumbled, though he trailed off when his sight came back and he saw the twenty-something officers in surrounding him. It seemed him and Wade were tied to two wooden chairs in the middle of the warehouse, probably taken hostage for some greater purpose.
“Spidey?” The mercenary’s voice was soft and low. “I’mma get us outta here, okay? Just give a second to let this asshole know how I’m gonna remove his dick with a butterknife—“
“Shut the fuck up!” One of the guards shouted, his words coated in a thick Russian accent. He was wearing dark green rather than black, and Peter assumed he was some kind of general. “We’re taking the Spider,” he continued. “The nuisance can stay.”
“Nuisance?” Wade scoffed. “I’m at least a pain in the ass!”
The general rolled his eyes and nodded at the soldiers behind Peter and Wade. “Take off the masks,” he commanded.
Peter’s spider-sense was going crazy, and his mind was racing for a way to stop these idiots from seeing his face. His hands were tied, he couldn’t move (and even if he could, he was far too sore to fight) and his web shooters had been taken off.
Before he could think of anything, the fabric covering his face was gone, and the cold air smashed against his skin.
He didn’t want to look at Wade. He knew he was looking at him though, all awestruck and numb with surprise.
“…Peter?” He asked, voice almost a whisper.
Peter swallowed all his fear and let his eyes meet Wade’s. He looked… Scared? His face was red from the leftover anger and his eyebrows were furrowed with confusion, but his eyes were bright and hopeful and—
“That your name? Peter?” A soldier hit Peter over the head with his gun.
“Don’t tell him,” Wade instructed. “Not that the fucker will live to pass it on.”
Peter shook his head, an idea forming in the back of his mind. “I’d get out now,” he warned, slowly moving his hand to press a button on the wrist of his suit. He struggled to push it down, but succeeded after shifting under the ropes. It gave off a loud click, and Peter smirked.
The guards started looking around, well aware that they were about to get seriously injured. “What’s that mean!?” The general yelled. “What’s it mean!?”
He pushed a pistol against Peter’s forehead, finger twitching above the trigger. “I’ll shoot!”
He didn’t have the time, though, before four heavily armed, red and gold suits crashed through the windows. “I’m giving you a ten second head start,” Tony’s voice echoed throughout the room. “One… Two… Ten.”
The suits started firing simultaneously, knocking out half of the soldiers within a second. Peter smirked at the confusion on Wade’s face as he watched the men drop, unconscious, onto the floor.
It didn’t take much more than ten seconds before they were all knocked out, and three of the suits left the way they’d come. The fourth landed in front of Peter, untying the ropes around his hands and feet.
“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter smiled and picked his mask from the soldier’s hand.
“No problem, kid,” the suit replied. Tony himself was somewhere in the Bahamas, but kept the Cradle protocol on at all times. It was meant as a safety measure in case Peter got caught in the middle of a fight he couldn’t win. He was in his twenties now, but Tony had insisted and Peter figured it'd be pointless to say no to a little help every now and then. No matter how embarrassing the names of Tony's protocols were.
The head of the suit turned to look a Wade before it fired a concussive blast at his chair, knocking him over. “Don’t spend too much time with him,” Tony’s voice echoed through the room. “Guy’s a bad influence.”
Peter scoffed.
"Should I wipe his memory?" The suit asked.
It was tempting. Peter had done some embracing stuff as himself, and it was nice to be idolised as Spider-Man. And yet, there was something relieving about Deadpool knowing who he was, like a heavy weight lifted off his shoulders.
"No," Peter sighed. "No, don't."
The suit managed to shrug -- a feature Peter was sure Tony had included in the design for this very reason. "Be careful, Peter." His voice was grave, as though he was warning of severe consequences.
And with that, the last suit followed the others out the window.
Peter fell back into the chair with a deep breath. The Cradle protocol had saved his life countless times, and preserved his identity from thousands of bad guys (the blasts wiped the memory of everyone unfortunate enough to be hit by them -- a feature Peter had been eternally grateful for).
He was reminded of Wade’s presence when he coughed loudly. He was still tied to the chair, and had face-planted on the floor.
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Peter rushed up and untied the mercenary, laughing quietly at his awkward position.
Wade stood up and brushed off his suit. He didn’t say anything, only studied Peter’s features like it was the first time he saw them.
“Wade…” Peter started, though he realized he wasn’t sure what to say. He ended up going with “I’m sorry” though Wade didn’t seem to be listening. He let him stare for a while longer, feeling as though he at least owed the guy some closure.
He wondered if their friendship would be over. If Wade would be upset he’d stop talking to him. It kind of made sense — he’d been involved with both Spidey and Peter in a more-than-friends kind of way. Peter figured he’d be mad as well.
He didn’t like the thought, though. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d become very fond of Wade’s company. Thinking it over, he realized he wasn’t sure what he’d do without the dirty jokes and comments about his ass.
“Please don’t be mad.” He didn’t like the way his voice sounded, three octaves higher than usual and as though he was on the verge of tears. “You gotta understand, I had to protect my—“
“You’re kidding, right?” The corners of Wade’s mouth curled into a smile. “This is the best day of my life!” He grinned and pulled Peter in for a hug. The brunette hugged him back, somewhat hesitantly.
“What?” He asked, once Wade pulled away.
“I was hoping it’d be you!” The mercenary said. “I owe myself ten dollars.” It was hard not to be infected by the way he grinned, and Peter found himself unable to stop smiling.
“Wait…” Wade’s eyes widened. “You kissed me! Twice!” He gasped. “I’ve kissed Spider-Man twice.”
“Technically—“
“Do you want bubble tea?” Deadpool interrupted. “I’d kill for some bubble tea. Not literally.”
Before Peter could respond, Wade had taken his hand and was leading him outside. Peter laughed and let the mercenary pull him all the way to Ethel’s cafe.
***
The old woman smiled at them and started making their tea. Wade pulled out a chair for Peter, before sitting down himself. His rested his head on both his hands, eyes focused intently on Peter’s mask. “You should take it off,” he commented.
“Don’t want people to see my face while I’m in costume,” Peter explained, pulling his mask up far enough to take a long sip of the bubble tea.
“Take off the costume, then.”
The brunette almost chocked on his drink, and started coughing violently. Wade laughed, though he hit Peter between the shoulder blades to keep him from choking.
“I’ve got a change of clothes at my place,” Deadpool said, once Peter had stopped nearly dying. “And I think they’re showing all the Indiana Jones movies on Sy-Fy.”
Peter nodded slowly, still recovering from Wade’s dumbass comment. “Sounds good.”
Once they finished their tea, Peter swung them back to Wade’s apartment. The mercenary picked out an outfit for him — pink Hello Kitty sweatpants and a sweatshirt with the word ‘nerd’ written in large, capital letters until a pair of cartoon glasses. Peter reveled in being able to take off his mask and relax around another superhero. Because that’s what Wade was, a superhero. A shitty one maybe, but still.
“You know that thing you tried the other day? On top of the bridge?” The mercenary asked slowly, about halfway through Temple of Doom.
Peter remembered. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it — kissed Wade — but he definitely didn’t regret it. He’d been warm and soft and— “Yeah?” He interrupted his own thoughts.
“Would you…” He cleared his throat. “Would you wanna try it again?”
Yes. Peter inhaled sharply and nodded, allowing Wade to take off his own mask before he leaned in and pressed their lips together. Wade leaned into it, hands placed lightly on Peter’s hips. It wasn’t short or fleeting like the time on the tower or by the Hudson. Instead, Peter slid his hand onto the mercenary’s neck and softly pulled him backwards onto the couch. Wade smiled into the kiss and Peter reciprocated, running his hand down Deadpool’s back.
It felt safe. That weird warm feeling in Peter’s stomach was flaring and his heart was threatening to beat right out of his chest. But he was safe.