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The party was the kind that Wade was used to going to.
His goofiness and playful charm managed to get him invitations to parties thrown by all of the sororities and fraternities on campus, even if it seemed like half of the time the majority of the partiers wanted to break his nose. He'd quickly established himself as being able to hold his own, so they usually stayed away from him. And then there were the people that wanted a piece of him just to say that they’d had a piece of him. It didn’t really bother him, though, and he never let it get him down, choosing instead to steal kisses and touches from men and women interested in a fling.
But Wade hadn't been to any parties for a few weeks, and more than a few pointed questions had been directed to him about it. Wade hadn't given any straight answers, choosing instead to give them wild excuses that often involved dragons and vampiric unicorns. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about the latest string of rejections he’d been faced with, and the self-pity and depression that had hung over his head like storm clouds.
Shaking off his thoughts, Wade took a swig of his beer and observed the people milling and dancing about. A frat had borrowed a vacation home from one of their member’s families, and it was close enough to campus that it drew a decent crowd, but mostly of just people who were specifically invited. There was drinking and laughter, and there’d only been one fistfight that had ended as quickly as it had started.
As Wade scanned the room, his gaze stuck to a gangly man who was sticking out like a sore thumb, with his thick-rimmed glasses, baggy sweater and deer in the headlights look.
The kid couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if he tried. He had a strained smile on his face and alternated between standing in the corner and moving to follow who Wade guessed to be his sister and her friends, since he had to still be in high school. Jeez, who would bring their kid brother to a college party? It was just asking for something bad to happen.
Wade lost track of the kid when he was dragged into a game of beer pong by Neenah. He played a few rounds, drinking hard liquor in between the rounds of beer, and by the end he was happily buzzed. He had even convinced one of the people in the kitchen to make him a surprisingly decent strawberry daiquiri.
Feeling a lull in his energy, Wade retreated to one of the side rooms, which seemed to be a posh office. The pristine, white rug was just asking for something to be spilled on it, but Wade kept the hand holding his drink as steady as he could as he plopped down on the couch, looking around and admiring all of the books and various knickknacks on the shelves.
“Oh.”
Wade looked up and saw that the kid from before was standing in the room, carrying a drink and looking startled.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,” he apologized.
He made a move to leave, but Wade hastily said, “No, it’s alright. You can stay.”
The teenager paused for a second, and Wade saw the way that his eyes strayed down to the scars that crisscrossed his face. His smile slipped slightly, eyes widening in shock, and Wade couldn’t hold back his sigh. He should’ve known that a stranger would be scared off by his scars.
But then the man smiled and sat down next to Wade. “I’m Peter,” he introduced himself.
“Wade.” He held out his hand, and Peter bit back a grin and shook his hand formally. “So, what grade are you in?”
“Oh, I'm a second year,” Peter said, smiling.
“Jeez, only a sophomore? I thought you'd at least be a senior. So, are you thinking of going here when you graduate?”
Peter stared at him, eyes uncomprehending and smile slowly fading. “I'm in my second year at NYU,” he clarified.
“Whaaaat? No way. You're lying.”
“No, I'm not.” Annoyance was starting to creep into Peter’s voice. “I’m studying chemical engineering.”
“I don't believe you. Show me your ID. Wait, never mind, it's probably a fake.”
Peter scowled at him, and dug out his wallet and shoved his student ID at Wade. The other boy scoured over it, searching for any signs that it could be a fake, and while he didn't know what an NYU ID would look like, it seemed to be real.
“Alright, alright, maybe you skipped a couple grades,” Wade said, still eying Peter suspiciously.
Peter made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat, yanking his ID back. “Screw you,” he snapped at him. “I know I have a baby face, I don’t need people to constantly be pointing it out.”
“Jeez, calm down,” Wade huffed, holding his hands up. “You went from like zero to a hundred real quick.”
Peter huffed, but seemed to reign in his annoyance. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up even more than before. His irritation seemed to be quickly turning into chagrin, his cheeks reddening. Wade’s stomach tightened at how cute it was.
“I just get those kinds of questions a lot,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “There’s, uh, only so many times someone can tell you that you look twelve before it gets to be a huge pain my ass. Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”
“Nah, it’s all good, dude,” Wade said, smiling at him. “I’d’ve probably snapped way sooner than however long you’ve lasted.”
Peter gave him a tentative smile, and Wade beamed at him, heart fluttering in his chest. Jesus , why was he allowed to be this adorable? For the first time in months, he was actually at a loss for words.
“I’m Wade,” he blurted out.
Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve already said that,” he teased. “How many of those have you had?”
Wade felt his cheeks start to flush, and he looked down at his drink. “A few,” he admitted dumbly.
Peter shook his head, leaning back into the couch. “I don’t know how you can stand those sugar bombs,” he said. “It looks like a sugar coma waiting to happen after one sip.”
Wade gave him a scandalized look. “These are delicious ,” he exclaimed. “Have you ever even had one?”
“No, and I’m never planning on having one,” Peter said in a deadpan. “I’ll just stick to my gin and juice, thank you very much.”
“Alright, Snoop Dogg ,” Wade snarked, struggling to stand up. “Wait right here and hold my drink. I’m gonna go make you one and blow your little baby mind.”
He careened dangerously to the side when he turned around, and Peter made an aborted movement to grab him, but he was quick to right himself. He gave him an emphatic thumbs-up and left, making a concerted effort to look a lot less drunk than he was.
He went towards the kitchen on a mission, having to stop every so often to right his course when he started veering to the side. He reached his destination, and demanded someone make him another strawberry daiquiri. It took him longer than he thought it would to finally get the drink, but he was successful in his endeavor and went back to the study.
“I was thinking you’d just left,” Peter said as Wade said down, giving him a relieved look.
Wade felt a tinge of guilt and warm rush through him. He hated that he’d made Peter worry, but the fact that Peter was even worrying about that was more pleasing than he thought it’d be.
“I ran into a couple walls, don’t worry about it,” Wade said, plopping down on the couch and sloshing some of the drink onto his hand. “Here. Try it, try it, try it.”
“I could've just had some of yours,” Peter complained, eying the drink closely. “Should I be concerned? I feel like I should've gone and asked for the drink myself.”
Wade’s stomach clenched. “Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out,” he said hurriedly, sitting up straighter. “I didn't even think of that, fuck . Uh, uh, here, lemme drink some of it, will that make you feel better? Or I can just toss it in that plant over there and we can go together to the kitchen to make one, or we can forget all about it--”
“If you have some, I’ll feel better,” Peter admitted, giving him a sheepish grin.
Wade didn't hesitate to take the drink and gulp down a large part of it. He gave a thumbs up to prove that everything was okay before handing it back to Peter. Peter accepted the drink, still eying it with a certain amount of distaste. He took the straw and took a small sip of it, obviously preparing for the worst. When his eyes lit up, Wade let out a triumphant shout.
“I knew you’d like it!” he cheered.
“You were right,” Peter chuckled, taking another drink. “But it’s also pure sugar.”
“Yeah, sorry to ruin your diet, but I think it’s worth it to have a cheat day for one of these babies, huh?”
Peter hummed in agreement and set down his gin and juice, focusing on the other drink.
“So, why are you all the way out in Washington?” Wade asked after a moment of silence.
“I’m here for the weekend to visit Gwen,” Peter explained, pointing out of the door at the blonde friend. “We’ve been friends since fourth grade when she got my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure back from the class bully.”
Wade swooned dramatically, making Peter snort. “Girl after my own heart,” he said. “So, did you two start dating right after that? A childhood sweetheart kinda deal?”
Peter outright laughed at that. “Oh, we’re not dating,” he said. “Well, we tried dating when we were younger, but it just didn’t work out. We’re just friends now.”
“Oh, nice,” Wade said, trying desperately to sound casual. “That’s--nice.”
Peter gave him a curious look, before the corners of his mouth started to turn upwards. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, and Wade started to feel his nerves start to build with the uncomfortable silence until there was a loud shout for someone to bring the puke bucket that effectively shattered the silence, making them both burst out in laughter.
“So, what are you studying?” Peter asked, and the conversation started rolling again.
Wade couldn’t pinpoint how long they were talking even if his life depended on it. For all he knew, they were talking the entire night, or just a few minutes. Peter’s biting humor was delightful to Wade--it had been forever since he’d found someone new who could keep up with his sense of dark humor and wasn’t scared away. Peter snorted his drink out of his nose at one point, and they'd ended up leaning against each other wheezing with laughter. But moments later, they were knee-deep in an intense discussion, gesturing emphatically and talking seriously.
And suddenly, Wade was very aware of how close Peter had gotten while he’d been talking. The other man had been smiling the entire time, listening intently as he slowly scooched closer and closer until their thighs were pressed together and Peter’s hand was on his shoulder, thumb stroking absently.
He hadn’t seemed to notice until Wade stopped talking, which was when he finally looked down, eyes widening and cheeks reddening. Peter let out an embarrassed, high-pitched laugh, but didn’t move away. Wade laid his hand over Peter’s on his shoulder, and leaned in, making sure his movements were slow enough that Peter had the chance to pull away if he wanted to.
They shared a small kiss. It wasn't much more than a gentle brush of lips, but it made Wade’s whole body tense in anticipation. He didn't feel any sparks like the protagonists in his favorite, bodice-ripping romances, but it was still amazing and he couldn't wait for more kisses.
He focused again on Peter, and saw the man was shaking with laughter at him. Wade was going to speak, but was momentarily stunned by the crinkled brown eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses and the wide smile.
“You know you were talking out loud, right?” Peter teased him. “I didn't see you as the type of person to read trashy romance novels.”
“Oh, the trashier, the better ,” Wade enthused breathlessly, leaning forward slightly and giving the man a dazed, dopey grin. “Wanna borrow some? Once you read about Hot Cowboy with a Rugged Exterior sweeping a dainty flower off her feet, you'll be hooked.”
Peter snorted, rolling his eyes. “Cowboys aren't really my thing. I'm more of a fan of pirates.”
“Aw, really? Then I guess I won't get to pull out the assless chaps anytime soon--”
Peter let out a guffaw, laughing and covering his mouth with his hand. Wade decided he loved that sound, but he wanted more of those kisses, and leaned in, this time pressing their lips together soundly.
They kept up their lazy kisses, and the taste of strawberry daiquiri was almost overwhelming; Wade hadn’t known that he loved the taste of them as much as he apparently did. When Wade’s hand attempted to stray lower, Peter pointedly grabbed his hand and pushed it back up. Wade took the hint and slid his hand back up, choosing instead to card his fingers through Peter’s wild hair. This was more than enough for him--he was happy to keep kissing Peter for the next decade without anything else.
They were completely lost in their own world. They heard someone come in and let out a squeaky apology before hurrying out but they didn't pay the person any kind. It wasn't until someone was banging at the front door while Peter was kissing Wade’s neck that they were finally fully interrupted by the commotion.
“Peter!”
The man startled violently, sitting up straight. Wade had to stifle back laughter at the man’s flustered appearance (even if he knew he looked the same), his face bright red, glasses askew and collar pulled down to show pink love bites on his neck. In the doorway stood a blonde woman, someone that Wade vaguely recognized from earlier in the party and from other parties.
“Hey, Gwen,” Peter laughed, voice high pitched and grin sheepish. “Wh-what’s up?”
“We gotta bounce,” she said. “Felicia’s ex just showed up, and if we don’t separate them soon, she’s gonna try to kill him.”
That was obviously more of a big deal (or more of a serious threat) than Wade had realized, because Peter’s eyes widened almost comically. He scrambled up to his feet, fixing his shirt and struggling to put on the jacket Gwen had handed him. Wade was quiet for a moment before jumping up to his feet as well.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing Peter’s hand. “I need you number.”
“Oh, right, yeah!” Peter said quickly, zipping up his jacket. “Uh, do you have a pen?”
“Just gimme a sec, there has to be one here--”
After digging through a couple of drawers, Wade was able to produce a Sharpie. Peter was biting back laughter as they stumbled out of the house after his friends, scrawling his number across Wade’s arm in messy handwriting.
“There,” Peter said triumphantly when he was done, capping the pen before planting a kiss onto Wade’s mouth. They both paused when Peter started to pull away, faces so close that Wade was going cross-eyed trying to look at him properly.
“Call me?” Peter breathed when he pulled away. Wade dumbly nodded, not able to form more intelligible words.
Peter made a move as if to say something, but Gwen grabbed his arm and started dragging him away. He threw another bright smile over his shoulder that was able to get Wade’s heart skipping a beat.
After that, the party was quickly broken up after the police got a noise complaint, and Wade found himself dropped off in front of his dorm by his Uber, and made his weaving way to his room, needing to stop every few seconds to sit down and gaze down at the number on his arm with a dopey grin.
He passed out as soon as he flopped down on the bed, and his dreams were filled with dreams of Peter, sitting by the poolside on a warm summer day and drinking strawberry daiquiris and laughing at whatever bad joke Wade was saying.
***
The next day, as he nursed his hangover, Wade agonized over the number. He opened a new message to text Peter a dozen of times, and ended up deleting the message before he had the chance to send it.
Was it too soon to text him? How soon was too soon? He’d tried calling Neenah to ask about it, but the woman had been even more hungover than he was and chewed had him out for calling her so early.
Finally, Wade had the number pulled up and was ready to actually call Peter. That was what Peter had told him to do, right? Call and not just text. And hopefully he’d also get some brownie points for taking the initiative to actually call him and not just sending a halfhearted message (even though it wouldn’t be even close to halfhearted, and would be painstakingly thought out to sound as casual as possible).
Swallowing tightly, Wade finally pressed call before he could lose his nerve.
And then immediately hung up before the phone could even ring once.
After agonizing for almost an entire hour, he finally called and didn’t hang up immediately. His heart thumped in his chest with every ring. Exactly four rings later, someone picked up on the other end.
“ Hello ?” a woman answered.
Wade immediately choked up, the words catching in his throat. When the woman repeated the question, he managed to croak out, “Is Peter there?”
“ Sorry, you have the wrong number .”
“O-oh. Uh.” He hung up without saying anything else, heart pounding in his ears.
Okay, wow. He must’ve been super distracted to put the wrong number in his phone. He painstakingly compared the writing on his arm to the number he had just dialled (and had dialled a few times before). Sure enough, they were the exact same.
Okay, but maybe that three was actually a two. Peter had been scribbling down the number really quickly, so there was a chance that he’d accidentally added another little loop on the two. Yeah, that had to be it.
Starting to feel nauseous, he dialled the number, this time with a two. A bored sounding teenager answered with the name of a store. Wade hung up without even saying anything, barely managing to get a squeak through his constricted throat.
Alright, so it was probably a three. But maybe that four was actually a nine. It was possible, right? They’d both been in such a rush…
He went through every single possible number that he could have misinterpreted, and each one had resulted in someone that was definitely not Peter answering.
Rage bubbling in his chest, Wade threw his phone across the room, unconcerned when it made a harsh clatter and landed face down on the floor. He stared at the ceiling, mind attempting to process and find reason in the situation.
Peter had given him the wrong number.
Somehow, Wade had let himself get his hopes up over a stranger, someone he didn’t know, and had expected everything to turn out okay. How could he have been so stupid ?
It wasn’t just Peter that was getting him so worked up--no, it was much more than that. Peter was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. He was the latest in an upsetting trend of people using and abandoning Wade, leaving him with his hopes dashed and the pain in his chest growing more prominent.
Maybe this was a sign. Maybe he was just meant to be alone forever. Those sweet kisses he shared with Peter were meant for someone more attractive, less scarred, less weird.
Wade rolled over and buried his head in his pillow, fighting back the sobs that built up in his throat as he willed himself to go back to sleep. He didn’t have to deal with these things if he was asleep.
***
Two weeks had passed, and while Wade was still broody enough to warrant even Neenah to cautiously ask what was wrong, he felt like maybe he was starting to get over the damage that Peter had left (and possibly getting over Peter himself).
“Hey, Wade!”
Wade turned around and saw a blonde woman approaching him, a friendly smile on her face. Even without the heavy partying makeup, he recognized her as one of the people that Peter had been with at that party weeks ago. His chest clenched.
“Hey, erm, Grace? Gaby?” he tried, wracking his brain frantically to remember her name.
“It’s Gwen ,” she said, her smile becoming a little more strained. “What’s up?”
“Uh, just getting out of class,” he said, vaguely gesturing towards the building he’d left. “Is there something you need?”
“Yeah, one sec--”
She pulled her bookbag around so she could dig through it, muttering and cursing under her breath.
“You remember my friend at the party? Peter?” she asked as she rummaged.
How could I forget someone like that ? “Yeah, I do,” he said.
“I have a note from him,” she said, brow furrowed in frustration and concentration. “I haven’t had the time to get it to you, with midterms and everything, sorry. I even tried finding you on Facebook, but there’s a lot of Wade Wilsons.”
Wade tried to push down the feelings of nausea. Had she come to somehow make the rejection worse? To rub the situation into his face, taunt him and just make everything worse? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened. His mind flashed back to the times he’d been in similar situations, with taunting faces of men and women who had just been screwing with him, or wanted to see how he was in the sack before dumping him.
He muttered a curse and tilted his head to the side. Jesus , the way he was thinking of this little twig of a dude, you’d think they’d been dating for years .
Gwen let out a triumphant cry and pulled out a crumpled and ripped piece of paper, startling Wade out of his thoughts.
“Here it is,” she said grandly, handing the ball to him. “I have to go to class now though, but hit me up on Twitter or something if he screwed up again.” She smiled at him brightly and waved before heading off in the direction of her class.
Wade didn't even want to open it, but knew if he didn't, he'd regret it for the rest of eternity. Fingers numb from the cold, he started to unfold the paper, flattening it out as best he could. Inside was a hastily scribbled note, the handwriting the same as the one that had been on his arm for a week.
Hey Wade! Oh my god I'm so sorry but I was in a rush last night and wrote down my number wrong. I put a 9 instead of a 2. I really really hope you don't think I was blowing you off and that Gwen managed to get this to you asap. I'm on my way to the airport now, but that invitation was legit. Come visit me the next time you're in NYC :-)
Underneath the message was a very carefully and precisely written phone number.
Wade read through the message a dozen times before they fully set in. And then he was laughing a full-bellied laugh that had many passersby looking at him in concern, but he couldn't care less, and didn't give them any attention.
The next summer, he landed in New York and was greeted with a sunny smile and eyes crinkling with joy behind thick rimmed glasses and a kiss so sweet that he thought he could still taste strawberry daiquiri.