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(498)
Wade used to love the rain.
It didn’t irritate his skin; it didn’t make him feel ashamed or uncomfortable for wearing layers no matter the weather. Peter liked the rain too. He’d take Wade’s hand and drag him through the crowded sidewalks of New York, the city washed in watercolor blues and greys around them and Wade…
…Wade fell in love with him all over again.
It was raining.
Wade watched it from their bedroom window.
They had enough money for a bigger place but they liked having a small apartment in Queens. Private. Peter wanted the bed right under the window so when it rained he could fall asleep listening.
Wade enjoyed it because he enjoyed Peter, and as Wade sat, watching the rain, he wondered if Peter would enjoy this storm as much as the one last week, or last month or last April.
His phone rang for the fourteenth time that day but Wade had no desire to move from his seat to see who was calling. Whoever it was, he knew what they’d say and he was tired of hearing it.
Instead, he sat and watched the rain and pretended that Peter was with him.
(12)
It didn’t bother Deadpool that no one seemed to like him, or tolerate him, or respect him because he hated himself more than all of them.
So when Spider-Man had webbed him to the wall of an alley for the fourth time that month Wade fully expected the hero to leave him there. Widow had with three bullets in his chest and he hadn’t been ogling her half as much as he had Spidey.
Instead, Spider-Man crossed his arms and heaved a heavy sigh.
Almost like him and Wade weren’t enemies.
Almost like he was more amused than he was angry.
“How many times have I told you to get out of my city?” he asked, clearly exasperated and Deadpool really tried to focus on what the webbed wonder was saying and not on the way blue spandex hugged thighs like that was the only purpose they served (it was).
“Tonight or in general?” Wade tossed back, struggling to free an arm from the webbing to reach for his katanas because while Spidey was hot as fuck Wade still liked killing and the hero would look so good in his red–
“I’ll make you a deal,” Spidey said and that got half of Wade’s attention.
“What kinda deal? A sexual deal? ‘Cause you don’t gotta back me into a corner for that baby, I’d drop to my knees so fast for y–”
“No! God, no, never, please stop talking.”
“Then what? You chop off my head and I leave you alone for a week? Putting me in a meat grinder doesn’t really work, if torture was the route you were gonna take.” Spider-Man seemed at a loss for words.
“You–has that happened?” the hero sputtered, sounding appalled, and Deadpool shrugged. Or tried to, the webs were really fucking tight. Did the guy make them himself? That was kind of nerdy-science hot.
“Couple times,” Wade admitted, genuinely confused as to why Spidey seemed so disgusted.
“That’s horrible,” the goody-two shoes arachnid gritted out, hands balled into angry tight fists at his side.
“Are you seriously mad on my account?” Deadpool laughed, and jeez, Yellow was having a field day.
“Of course I am,” Spider-Man snapped, crossing his arms and instead transferring his anxious energy to tapping his foot. “That’s the kind of stuff I try and prevent.”
“Wish you were around when I was ten,” Wade said offhandedly and Spider-Man froze.
“When you were ten?” the hero whispered in disbelief.
“Look, Webs, I didn’t come out here tonight for a therapy session, okay? Either kill me, fuck me, or let me hang here, your choice. I’ll just dislocate my shoulders and hip and wiggle on out of here.” Deadpool didn’t have to see Spidey’s face to know his mouth was hanging open.
“God, Deadpool, no. What I was going to say is, if you stop killing–”
Deadpool huffed a laugh but Spidey pushed on like he hadn’t.
“…If you stop killing I’ll buy you tacos every Tuesday.”
Now he had Wade’s complete attention.
“You’re fuckin’ with me,” the merc growled, suddenly angry, because this wasn’t fucking funny–
“No, I’m not. Scouts honor. Well, I may not be able to afford every Tuesday, how about the first Tuesday of every month? I don’t really make a lot of money so that’s the best I can offer now.”
When Wade didn’t say anything Spidey shifted on his feet, almost self-conscious.
“Um, or I leave you here and the webbing will dissolve in two hours and we can try negotiating again sometime,” he mumbled.
“You’re not really good at the threatening thing,” Deadpool said.
Spidey bristled.
“I don’t exactly go around threatening people,” the younger man snapped. “And I’m not threatening you.”
“Nah, ‘course you’re not,” Deadpool nodded, almost giddy in his growing excitement. His personal hero was offering to spend time with him? Voluntarily? He had to be hallucinating. It was the only logical explanation. No one ever wanted to hang out with Deadpool.
“Wait, first: am I dead?” Wade had to ask. Spidey cocked his head.
“No,” he said, sounding amused, “pretty sure we’re both alive.”
Wade believed it. He had never felt this warm dead before.
“Okay, well, if I’m not dead and you’re not pulling a funny then you have yourself a deal.”
“Really? That easy?” Spidey asked.
“Hey! You try saying no to an ass like yours, it’s impossible!”
“Please stop talking about my ass.”
“It’s almost better when you say it.”
“Say what?”
“Ass.”
“God, never mind, offer revoked.”
“What? You can’t do that! That’s not fair!”
“Then stop talking about my ass! And thighs.”
“Can’t, baby boy, it’s practically impossible.”
“It’s that or I leave you here.”
“Can you give me a little twirl before you go?”
Spider-Man ignored him, webbing himself up to the nearest roof and flinging himself atop with a grace Deadpool could get hard over. Did get hard over.
[Wow you’re pathetic]
“Stop killing,” Spidey called over his shoulder, “and the first batch of tacos are on me!”
He swung away, disappearing into the dark of the city, and it took Wade a full ten minutes to realize that the exchange had been real, that Spidey had given him an ultimatum resulting in quality time and Mexican food, and that he was still webbed to a grimy alley wall.
“White? Yellow? Please tell me you saw all that,” Wade whispered.
[Unfortunately] White sighed.
{Loud and clear! Do you think he likes us?}
[If he does he’s more insane than we are]
Deadpool couldn’t help the dopey grin that stretched his mask.
“Imagine that,” he sighed.
An old woman found him later, cut him down with the small blade from her pocketknife, and told him to be more careful next time.
She was freakishly familiar in untangling Spidey’s webs.
Seven months later Wade would be sitting at her dining room table.
A year later and he’d be holding Peter’s hand on top of it.
(111)
The voices weren’t as loud anymore.
Sure, they still babbled on most nights and told him how and why he should kill himself most days, but when he was around Spidey they weren’t as loud. He could block them out.
Spidey was the only person who was able to manage that so far in Wade’s long, miserable life.
White hated the hero for it.
Yellow loved him.
Wade, for once, had to agree with Yellow.
(485)
Peter helped him strap on his guns, his knives, his katanas, and although Wade didn’t need the help he accepted it because they’d never been in a fight with something this big before and Wade was scared.
He couldn’t die.
He could go into any battle; any fight, and know that no matter what happened during he’d be able to walk away (or not, in most instances he couldn’t walk, but his heart was always working in the end).
But Peter couldn’t.
Peter Parker was human.
He was frail with breakable bones and a delicate neck and paper skin. His healing factor was shit compared to Wade’s and Wade was scared.
“All suited up,” Peter said over his comm, eyes never leaving Wade’s. Neither of them had their masks on, but Peter reached up and gently rolled Deadpool’s on, leaving his mouth uncovered so that he could sneak a lingering kiss. Deadpool reached out and took Peter’s wrist, felt his pulse thump under his thumb.
“You gotta promise to stay behind me, Pete,” Deadpool said, voice rougher than normal. “You gotta promise me, baby boy. I can’t go into this knowing that I could lose you.” Peter gave him his favorite smile, the one he wore when he was so in love with Wade he couldn’t help it. It was soft and warm and fond and Deadpool gripped his wrist tighter.
“I’ll watch your back,” Peter promised.
“I’ll watch yours,” Wade said, and slipped the Spider-man mask over Peter’s brown eyes and button nose. He left his lips uncovered and pressed his own secret kiss to his fiancé’s lips. Wade could feel when Peter’s heart skipped.
“Let’s go give ‘em hell, baby boy.”
(83)
“Okay, we’re not doing this,” Webs said, even though Wade could tell he was smiling.
It made something hard in his chest loosen.
It made him giddy.
“Oh? I thought it was my turn to pick,” he cooed, holding up the Lizzie Maguire movie and batting eyelashes he knew Spidey couldn’t see. The hero rubbed a hand over his chin, thinking, and it was always distracting when the younger man rolled his mask up to eat, because then Wade could see his pink lips, and the bottom of his small nose, and it made him feel warm all over.
[It’s called lust, moron]
{Or looooveeeeee~}
“Yeah,” Wade agreed as Spidey rolled off the couch in one fluid motion to pop the DVD– who still owns a DVD player?– into the slot.
“You won’t regret this!” Wade exclaimed, settling back into Spidey’s old couch with a content huff, arms spread over the back cushions. He was surprised when Spidey, instead of sitting all the way at the end of the sofa, sat next to him, tucked right up against Wade’s side. Having Spidey so close was like having a fire playing with the corners of his skin, hot and persistent.
“I already am,” Spidey sighed, but snuggled closer, mask still tucked up. Wade couldn’t look away from him. Spidey made a little confused noise and looked up at Deadpool, so close that Wade wasn’t sure if breathing was okay or not.
He held his breath anyway.
“You’re not watching the movie,” Wade whispered but his voice broke and he didn’t mean to sound so scared. Spidey regarded him for a long moment before he shuffled closer, tilting his head up more.
“Neither are you,” Spidey retorted, voice just as soft, and fuck, Spidey had such a nice voice compared to Wade. It was so soothing, and smooth, and Wade always felt comforted hearing it. Now, it made his heart race. But that wasn’t anything new.
“Is this the part where we kiss?” Wade asked, immediately regretting it.
[Smooth]
{Please don’t ruin this for us…}
“I think so,” Spidey said, effectively shutting White and Yellow up, and stretched up to kiss Wade on the corner of his mouth. It was so gentle Wade almost didn’t believe it happened.
“You have to tilt your head down,” Spidey instructed, a blush now coloring his cheeks in the dark living room while Lizzie Maguire tripped over the graduation stage, “you’re too fucking tall.”
Wade laughed, breathless and giddy, and wound his arm more securely around Spidey’s narrow shoulders.
“Let me fix that then, eh?”
Wade still thought of their first kiss and how it was the softest anyone had ever treated him.
(362)
“You know it only took me ten minutes and forty-two seconds to fall in love with you?” Wade asked one night, Peter draped over his chest, tracing idle patterns on Wade’s molten skin.
“Hm,” Peter hummed, smiling and placing a light kiss to Wade’s right collarbone. “That was fast.”
“I’m too gooey to even say, “that’s what she said”,” Wade sighed.
“You just said it.”
“Did I?”
“Want to know how long it took me to fall in love with you?” Peter asked and Wade blinked down at him, apprehensive.
“Three hundred sixty two days and twenty-six seconds?” he asked.
“Wade, that’s how long I’ve known you,” Peter said patiently. He was always so patient. Wade tightened his grip around him.
“How long?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer. Peter kissed his chin, his cheeks, the tip of his nose until Wade scrunched it. Peter grinned.
“Three months,” he said, sounding proud. “You broke through my morals real damn fast.” The smile that stretched Wade’s mouth was so large he felt like he looked deranged but Peter only cupped his face with that same reverence he always gave to Wade and kissed him until the room was hot and Wade just had to roll them over.
“You make me better,” Wade said against Peter’s lips, pressed the truth of it into the skin over Peter’s throat. “Never thought that’d happen.”
Peter wrapped himself around Wade like he did when he wanted things slow and close and deep, and Wade bit his chin for it.
“You keep me holding on,” Peter whispered against the skin of Wade’s baldhead. “We only get better.” Wade rested his chin on Peter’s chest, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.
“That’s a song,” he accused. “Those are song lyrics.”
Peter raised an eyebrow and he so had to teach Wade how to do that.
“What, so you’re the only one who can sing in bed?”
“God no,” Wade hummed, licking Peter’s nipple just to make him squirm. “But that sounds like something I wanna hear.”
“You…I’ve played it,” Peter muttered, effectively distracted by Wade’s hands sliding down his hips.
“Sing it to me,” Wade requested, tracing Peter’s abs with his tongue and loving how they tensed under the sensation.
“Later,” Peter breathed, grabbing Wade’s head and smashing their lips together. “Later,” he repeated, “make me forget the words now.”
Wade grinned against his lips.
“Oh, baby, I’m gonna make you forget your name.”
He’ll remember how Peter’s laugh tasted on his tongue for years.
(198)
They argued constantly.
Over morals, beliefs, the right way to make a gluten-free pizza because Peter had somehow developed an allergy that kept him from enjoying anything good. At the beginning of the relationship it was a roller-coaster of compromises and learning their way around the other.
“You told me you stopped killing,” Peter said one day, face red with anger. “You fucking promised.”
“Yeah, and I messed up!” Wade shouted back, seconds away from snapping and blowing his brains out. His, not Peter’s, even though when the younger got on his high hero horse the thought was sometimes tempting. “The guy was a rapist, Pete. I can’t not kill him.”
Peter’s jaw clenched, his brown eyes wild.
“Wade, when we started dating my one thing, the one deal breaker, was–is– the killing,” Peter said, voice eerily calm despite the younger man’s trembling hands. “It’s not about the rapist. It’s–it’s about you making a promise and breaking it. I can’t be with someone I can’t trust. I…I want to trust you, I really do, but you need to stop giving me reasons not to.”
Wade recoiled, as if Peter’s words had fists attached, and he slammed his katanas on Peter’s old coffee table, the impact making Peter jump. And that–that wouldn’t do…at all, actually.
Peter was on edge, ready for a fight, Wade realized.
Peter was scared.
Of him.
[Well what did you expect? You met ‘cause you were hired to kill him]
{He doesn’t know that!} Yellow crowed.
[Another deal breaker]
{You know you’re only gonna get him killed right? One way or another? He’ll leave you–}
“Shut up,” Deadpool hissed under his breath and Peter had the knowledge to know when Wade was talking to him and when he was talking to the boxes.
[Have you ever met anyone that understood you like that before? This could’ve been great if you hadn’t fucked it all up]
{Kill yourself. Wham, bam, BLAM! Easy peasy}
[That’s never gotten us sympathy points]
Wade looked at Peter, really looked at him: his brown eyes that turned gold in the sun, his wild hair, his slender build that could break him with one flick of his thumb. Peter was so good and kind and powerful and smart and funny and Wade–
–Wade had nothing to give him. He could only make Peter hurt like he was hurting now. That was the only guarantee for dating Deadpool. But Peter was stubborn to a fault, and he wouldn’t leave Wade that easy. Wade had thought killing would definitely be the final straw, would push Peter away for good before they both became too attached (too late), but he’d been wrong there, seeing as how Peter wanted to fucking talk it out than break up.
{See? Too good}
[Just dump him so we can go]
Wade took a deep breath, he needed to be strong and convincing in what he was going to say or Peter wouldn’t buy it.
“Then maybe you should leave! Maybe you shouldn’t be shacking up with a mercenary with melted skin and a fucked up head if you’re looking for stability and an easy time. There’s a reason heroes and anti-heroes don’t make it, baby boy, and this is why. You really wanna deal with all this?” Wade snarled, gesturing frantically to himself. “You really wanna have what comes with what’s left of a human being? Newsflash, babe: I’m not a charity case. I’m not a social justice project. If you’re in this relationship to try and change me, fix me, then this shouldn’t be happenin’.”
During his talk Wade and stalked forward, standing a foot away from his boyfriend now he could see the frustration in Peter’s eyes, could see how it slowly began to fade into an emotion Wade didn’t have the name to. Maybe his was it. Homestretch time.
“I like killing,” Wade whispered, “I’m not gonna lie to you, Pete, it feels good. It’s the only thing in all the universes I do well. I don’t know if I can give it up.”
Peter was quiet for a long moment and the silence alone made Wade wanna claw off his skin. He hated the anticipation of it, hated how gross he felt, hated how badly his skin hurt, hated how he had liked killing that disgusting rapist pig, hated how he felt guilty for doing it, hated that it was Peter who made him have a heart again–
“Stop trying to destroy yourself, Wade,” Peter said, his voice gentle but firm and Wade was struck wordless in shock. “I know you don’t think you deserve to be happy, and I know you think you don’t deserve a chance at love. I know that. But just like I’m not going to treat you like a charity case, you can’t treat me like I’m something so pure that I can’t handle a little dirt. I like you. Stop trying to push me away. Our relationship can’t be built on games of seeing how far we can break the other before they leave. That’s not healthy,” Peter reached up, nice and slow so Wade could move back if he wanted.
He didn’t.
Peter touched the aching skin of Wade’s cheek, as gentle as a feather, but it still stung and Peter must have seen Wade tense because he made to pull back. Wade caught his hand with his gloved one, kept Peter’s fingers against his. He needed something to ground himself now.
“Did you hear what I said? I like killing, I–”
“This is what I’m talking about,” Peter interrupted. “You like killing, huh? So much so that you don’t take the guilt out on yourself?”
“What–”
“Wade, I’ve been in your apartment. It’s covered in your blood,” Peter whispered, eyes watering further. “And I–and I’ve seen that stupid bracelet you wear. The “what would spidey do” one.”
“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” Wade admitted weakly, at a loss for anything else to say.
“You’re wearing it right now,” Peter pointed out and Wade looked down and yup, dammit, he’d forgotten.
[Nice going asshat]
They were both quiet, Peter seemed to be waiting for something that Wade couldn’t find the words for. Ideally, he’d melt and sink through the floor, but he hadn’t managed to pull that off in this universe yet so the possibilities weren’t looking good.
So, talking it was.
“I’m not used to having anything,” Wade admitted, eyes downcast. “After Vanessa I just…stopped trying. I don’t deserve a good person like you.”
“Wade,” Peter sighed, gripping his hand tight. “You have to stop putting me on a pedestal. I’m human. I fuck up. I’m selfish and needy and take my frustrations out on the people I care about. We’re equals here, okay? We are.”
“Petey,” Wade began but Peter cut him off.
“We are,” he said, decisive. “What’s going on in your head? Right now, what are you thinking?”
Wade huffed a strained laugh, not used to someone wanting to understand. It was almost too much.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, “the boxes are all talking at once.”
“What are they saying?” Peter whispered, stepping closer. This was going the opposite of what Wade expected.
“To kill myself,” Wade answered, shrugging to make sure Peter knew it wasn’t a big deal, but when he met his boyfriend’s eyes he wasn’t expecting the younger man to cry.
“Oh fuck, oh shit, baby, see? This is what I’m talkin’ about: I’m too much. I’m too much trouble, my dick isn’t even worth all the heartache it’s gonna cause you,” Wade pulled his hand back, stepping away even though he wanted nothing more than to bring Peter close. But this was the exact reason why he shouldn’t be with anyone, why he shouldn’t open up to anyone–
[Too much…]
{Unlovable}
[Worthless piece of–]
“I’m not breaking up with you,” Peter said, crossing his arms and trying to make himself look taller, even though the tears staining his cheeks belayed the rough exterior he was trying to maintain. “So unless you’re breaking up with me we’re gonna get into our PJ’s and watch Golden Girls and I’ll go get your pain meds for your skin and we’ll sit right on this fucking couch until you feel better.”
Wade wasn’t going to cry.
He wasn’t.
“The fuck, baby boy?” he asked, voice weak. “I killed someone. I broke my promise, why are you–”
“Because I care about you. And you’ve been trying, I know you have, I’m not expecting you to do a 360 in lifestyle changes overnight. It’ll take time; you just have to stop pushing me away. I’m not leaving,” Peter said, swallowing, and Wade could only stare.
“You’re serious,” he laughed, “holy fuck Spidey. You’re crazier than I am!” Peter gave a small smile, cheeks red.
“So what’s it going to be?” he asked, looking very soft and warm. “You gonna let me take care of you?”
Wade wasn’t crying.
He wasn’t.
[Yes you are]
“Sure,” he whispered, sniffling. “If we can cuddle.”
“We can do that,” Peter smiled, wiping at his eyes.
“And I can grope the ass.”
“Maybe,” Peter said, walking to him but not reaching out to touch. “But you have to promise to stop trying to destroy our relationship. We can be really good together, Wade. You just gotta let us get there.”
“Wow,” Wade breathed, moving so he could cradle Peter’s face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears from the corners of his boyfriend’s eyes. “You really like me.”
“I really like you,” Peter admitted, eyes soft. “You gonna let me?”
“I guess,” Wade sighed– like dating the most amazing man in the world would be a chore– leaning down so he could press their foreheads together, skin hurting be damned. “Since you’re so pushy.”
“No more killing?” Peter asked.
“No more killing,” Wade agreed. “Unless they really really deserve it.”
“Your definition of “deserving” is a lot different than mine,” Peter sighed but didn’t pull away.
“We’ll work on it,” Wade promised. “I’ll work on it. I’ll stop pushing you away. I’ll stop trying to jeopardize our relationship. I can be an adult.”
“That last one might be hard for you,” Peter grinned, pressing a light kiss to Wade’s masked cheek.
“Not the only thing that’s hard,” Wade leered and Peter exhaled loud against his mask.
“Wade, we were having a moment.”
“This is still a moment. Just a more adult moment.”
“Please don’t ruin this.”
“Okay, okay,” Wade relented, instead choosing to wrap Peter up in his arms, hugging the hero tight to his chest and just letting himself breathe. He buried his face in the crook of Peter’s shoulder, pressed them together as close as he could. He rubbed his hand over Peter’s back, up and down until Peter melted against him, calm washing over the two of them in waves. Wade’s left hand went lower, down to Peter’s waist and up under the t-shirt Peter was wearing, his gloved hand resting on the bare skin of Peter’s hip.
“Is this my shirt?” Wade asked, voice low to not disturb the moment.
“Maybe,” Peter mumbled against his neck, arms wrapped around Wade’s shoulders. “Can I have it?” Wade felt a burst of warmth in his chest, a sudden, heady rush that almost knocked him off his feet. He hadn’t felt this kind of adoration for another person before. Not even Vanessa stopped his heart like Peter did.
“You can have whatever you want, baby boy,” Wade whispered. “I’m all yours.” Peter trembled against him, his fingers tracing Wade’s shoulders, his chest. Wade let Peter roll his mask up, even though Wade knew his skin looked particularly terrible, he trusted Peter.
He trusted that if Peter didn’t want to touch him he wouldn’t.
It was the first time that Wade cried during sex.
Peter and him had migrated to Peter’s old couch, and Wade had taken off his mask. His skin hurt, but Peter was gentle, and soft, and giving, and Wade was so overwhelmed by so many sensations he didn’t know what to do.
He’d never been with someone so kind before. Peter gave as much as Wade took, honest and true and completely sincere.
(412)
Tony Stark was Peter’s father figure.
Petey could deny it all he wanted but he practically glowed when the billionaire entered the room and Wade wasn’t jealous, he wasn’t, really, because he saw the way Peter looked when he walked into a room and that was ten times more glow than when he saw Tony. But the Iron Giant was still very important to Peter. Hell, they’ve almost died and saved each other more times than either of them could count and so Wade needed to do this. Not because his decision would be decided by Tony fucking Stark, but because Peter would appreciate the gesture.
And, he admitted to himself begrudgingly as he scaled the sleek walls of the Avengers compound, so would Stark.
“Mr. Wilson. You’re still not allowed on the premise without Mr. Parker’s as an escort,” Friday’s voice greeted him as Deadpool dropped into the dark common room, the automatic lights flickering on with the AI’s appearance.
“Yeah, but this is important! And Stark wasn’t answering his phone or faxes or emails or carrier pigeons–did those get here by the way? Cause that one was a shot in the dark–”
“What are you doing in my house Deadpool?” the billionaire asked from behind him and Wade spun around, trying not to feel nervous. The fact that he was tracking mud all over the once spotless white floor wasn’t helping. But who has white floors? Really? Not everyone could putt around like that weird red floaty dude.
{Visor?} Yellow supplied.
“Yeah, Visor,” Wade agreed.
“You mean Vision,” Tony corrected, eyes tired as he crossed his arms and regarded the two hundred pound ex-mercenary in his living room. “I’ll ask again: what are you going here? It’s three am.”
“You should be asleep, Pops,” Wade whistled walking about the room to try and kill some of his nerves.
He couldn’t stand still.
Stark noticed.
“Did something happen?” the man asked, immediately alert. “Is Peter okay?”
Wade scoffed, slightly offended.
“Listen Iron Dad, if something had happened to my Petey I wouldn’t be sauntering around your living room I’d be out there helping him. Give me some credit!”
“Okay,” Stark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Then why are you here? Last time I’m asking.”
This was it.
{Remember that we don’t care what he thinks!}
[That’s a lie]
Wade swallowed. He could do this.
“I’m gonna ask Peter to marry me,” he blurted. Stark seemed to be frozen in place, posture tense and still and fuck he wasn’t even blinking.
This was a bad idea.
{Horrible! Run! Elope! ABORT!}
When the silence continued to stretch on Wade wasn’t sure whether he should be offended or not.
“Look,” he began, scratching the back of his mask and further aggravating his skin. “I know you don’t like me. Or respect me. Or deal with me, and I understand I can’t handle myself on the best of days but I love Peter. He’s the single most important thing in the world to me. He could leave me tomorrow and I’d still want to do nothing but provide for him. Like, fruit baskets or paying for his rent ‘cause like, I like taking care of him. I swear, you can kill me three hundred times over and I’d help you if I ever hurt Peter. But I wanna make this gesture. I–um, that’s what I got. I mean, I could talk more about what I love about him? Like his ass and his voice and the way he sneezes when the weather changes and how he loves dancing in the rain but then always gets sick ‘cause he’s a fucking idiot sometimes, honestly, I don’t know how you dealt with him when he was a teenager–”
Stark held up his hand and Wade almost bit his tongue off to stop rambling.
Shit.
He’d messed up somehow. He fucked it up.
He just wanted Peter to be able to go to Avenger family dinners without feeling tense because he’d want Deadpool there but everyone hated Deadpool–
“You–you know I’m not his dad, right?” Stark asked, voice cracking.
Wade tensed.
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” he warned, serious and dark. Stark shook his head, walking stiffly over to the bar at the far end of the room and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one gulp before pouring another.
{That’s not a good sign}
“You’re going to ask Peter to marry you?” Stark asked after another awkward silence.
Wade nodded.
“Yes sir,” he squeaked.
“Don’t call me sir,” Stark sighed.
“You prefer Daddy?”
[Oh. My. Fucking. GOD]
{SHUT UP WHY DID YOU–}
Stark huffed a laugh.
That shut the boxes and Wade right up.
The merc half expected to be blasted through the wall for that comment.
“Well, shit Wilson, if you want to propose go right ahead,” Stark shook his head, smiling to himself as he sipped his drink.
Sipping was better than chugging.
“You–you’re okay with it?” Wade pressed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Stark shot him a look but it wasn’t entirely disgusted so that was a win.
“You were expecting me to say no?” Stark asked. “Peter’s an adult, it’s his life, his choice. And I’ve never seen him laugh as hard as he does when he’s with you. That’s answer enough for me.”
Wade blinked, fingers itching for his knife. This couldn’t be happening. Tony Stark, Iron Man, Avenger Dad, was giving him the seal of approval?
“Look, you make the kid happy,” Stark shrugged, turning to face Wade fully he leaned back on the bar’s counter, nursing his drink thoughtfully. “I’m not the prime example for healthy relationships. Hell, Pepper’s already greying. Somehow, you and Peter work. I don’t want to know the details!” Stark held up his hand when Wade began to explain.
“You two are your best selves around each other,” Stark said. “I’m honestly surprised it’s taken you two this long to get around to the proposing stage.”
Wade didn’t know what the fuck to say.
“So, I have your blessing?” he clarified.
Tony grinned.
“Yeah, you have my “blessing”.”
Wade released a heavy sigh, his whole body sagging with the relief of it.
“You have a ring?” Stark asked.
“I have this ring pop,” Wade said, pulling said blue ring pop from one of his pouches. “It’s got dirt on it though.”
“God,” Stark groaned, motioning for Wade to put it away. “That’s shit. I’ll help you c’mon.”
Wade snapped to attention, throwing the candy ring over his shoulder and skipping to follow Stark out of the living room.
“Ooh! Do I get to go into the lab?”
“If you touch anything I’m cutting off your hands,” Stark grumbled but he led the way with an exasperated smile.
(200)
They went grocery shopping.
Peter couldn’t cook for shit so Wade always picked everything out.
It was a strange form of domestic intimacy and it was one of Wade’s favorite things to do.
Peter would always hold his hand near the freezers, “for warmth”, and Wade always kissed his cheek and pulled him along.
(76)
Peter liked chocolate ice-cream for fun and the Ben and Jerry’s Caramel Chunk Fudge Road when he was upset.
Wade kept his freezer stocked with both. Peter never asked how Wade got into his apartment, he just kept the window in the living room unlocked and a note for Wade to lock up when he was done.
(98)
Wade would have bad days.
He’d be depressed, his skin would hurt more than usual, and the boxes would screech in his head. He was used to killing himself on these kinds of days. But Peter wouldn’t leave his side, no matter how much Wade yelled for him to, the hero simply stuck himself to Wade’s ceiling and refused to move.
He’d warm up milk with chocolate.
He’d bring Wade food and new soft PJ’s and once a karaoke machine.
He wouldn’t leave until Wade felt better. And even then he’d linger.
Wade didn’t know what he’d done to deserve a boyfriend like Peter Parker.
(345)
They played video games for two days straight because they just wanted an excuse to be around each other.
(53)
Peter explained to Wade how his web shooters worked.
(94)
Peter showed Wade his face for the first time. Wade hadn’t seen anyone as beautiful as him.
(145)
They went to Coney Island and rode the Ferris Wheel. They kissed and Peter rested his hand on Wade’s thigh.
(224)
Peter told Wade he loved him in the rain.
Wade thought it was horribly cliché but also perfect because no one could tell he was crying when he said it back.
(490)
Wade felt like he had been dragged through hell two hundred and thirty-seven times.
He felt like he was dying.
He felt like he was dead.
(486)
It was a bad fight.
Brutal and fast and everything happening all at once.
In the past, Deadpool would’ve loved a bloodbath like this. Now, all he could see was civilian casualties, homes destroyed, his teammates hurt and tired and shit, this didn’t look like it would be ending anytime soon. The Kree had emerged from the sewers, first spotted down in Chelsea and then all across Manhattan. The Avengers had thought keeping them contained could work but the Subway tunnels connected everywhere and there was no stopping them. Deadpool’s comm still worked but he’d been dismembered once, shot three times, and was still missing his thumb on his left hand.
He was aggravated, and angry, because all he wanted was for this to be over.
He hadn’t seen Peter in hours. Hadn’t seen anyone really, except for when Tony Stark would fly over head or Cap’s shield boomeranged by. It was every man for himself more or less, and that’s how the Kree wanted it.
“No shortage of them by the Met,” Widow panted through the comms, and Wade groaned, letting his head fall back on a car door.
“I’ve cleared the East Village,” Peter said over the line, his voice tired and strained. “At least I think I have.”
“Fuck, good work, baby boy,” Wade grinned, pride glowing in his chest as he heaved himself up, slicing off a Kree’s head with one effective swipe.
“If anyone can stop by I need some help,” Peter continued and Wade stilled, focus lost long enough for a Kree to slash open his shoulder.
“Motherfucking–” he snarled, stabbing the thing through the neck and pushing the blade all the way through its groin.
“Wade, are you–”
“All good! I’m comin’ for ya! Where ya at, Webs?” Wade adjusted the Deadpool mask on his utility belt, turning the dial and waiting for his fiancé to give him the deets. When Peter didn’t answer immediately Wade began jumping in place, nervous and trying not to let the dread he felt in his stomach build up to his throat.
“Spider-Man? What’s your location?” Captain America’s voice crackled over the comms.
Radio silence.
Wade didn’t wait a minute longer, pressed his belt and tried not to focus on the strange, dizzying sensation of teleportation. He appeared ontop of a By Chloe’s, the pink awning in tatters. The East Village was in shambles, but his baby had done good, there were no rampaging Kree in sight. There were, however, spider webs decorating every surface, some stained red and Wade really tried to not panic.
He switched his comm for personal calls, and tried to connect Peter through that one instead. Sometimes, if they were all on the same line, it malfunctioned, and how was he supposed to hear Peter if that happened?
[If it malfunctioned we wouldn’t hear the others] White pointed out, voice tense and solemn.
“Webs?” Wade asked, pressed two fingers against he comm. “You there?”
Static, then, “Under–under you, look down.”
Wade did.
Part of him wished he hadn’t.
Because Peter was there, as he had said, with his leg twisted at the knee and a god awful gash in his side. How he was still standing was beyond Wade because just from the amount of blood at his fiancé’s feet Wade knew. He knew it was bad. Knew that if it were he, he’d be close to having that tea party until his body stitched itself back together.
Peter’s couldn’t do that.
Wade must’ve broken his ankle on the way down because the landing hurt but it hardly registered.
Peter smelled like dirt and sweat and copper and as soon as Wade grabbed him the hero collapsed, his good leg giving out. Peter let out a pathetic wheeze of pain but Wade would bet his body was still mostly in shock. He probably wasn’t feeling the full extent of his injuries and Wade was thankful for that.
“I–I need medical. 185 Bleecker St, condition critical,” Wade spitted out, just wanting it done because Peter’s entire body was shaking like he was freezing and that wasn’t good either. Wade lowered the both of them to the ground and nearly cried when Peter’s grip tightened enough to break his bones when the hero’s damaged leg was jostled.
“Shh, sh, baby boy, I got ya, hold on sweetheart,” Wade whispered against Peter’s masked temple as he hugged the younger man to his chest, Peter’s legs stretched out so that Peter’s head was cradled by Wade’s shoulder.
“Deadpool? How critical?” Stark’s panicked voice shook through the comms.
“Can you tell us the exact–” Wade ripped the mic from his ear, cutting off all radio in his head because Peter was trying to speak and that was so much more important than the A-Team playing twenty questions.
“Can you–my mask it’s hard to breathe,” Peter croaked, voice wrecked and not in the way Wade loved.
“Yeah, yeah, I got ya,” Wade rambled, hands shaking so horribly he had a bit of trouble. The boxes were eerily silent. Wade set the mask on Peter’s hip and brought his left hand to rub at the blood that stuck to Peter’s pale skin. His hair was matted down and Wade didn’t try to think about anything as he gently felt around the back of Peter’s head. It was dented, and when Wade looked back to Spidey’s eyes they were already beginning to unfocus.
“Hey,” Wade urged, shaking Peter until the hero looked to him. “Eyes on me okay? No fallin’ asleep, keep your eyes on me.” Peter swallowed, nodding minutely. His gaze was piercing, like he’d never look away again, like he was trying to memorize every line in Deadpool’s mask–
“I wanna see your face,” Peter wheezed, voice wet and he coughed, red staining his teeth and Wade elevated his upper body so he wouldn’t choke.
“Fuck, baby, you really did a number on yourself,” Wade tried to keep his tone light but it cracked and broke and was anything but strong. He pulled his own mask off, angling his body so that if anyone was trying to see Peter’s face they’d only get a glimpse of his matted hair.
Peter cracked a bleeding smile and Wade’s heart broke, straight down the middle.
[He’s not going to make it] White whispered and Wade ground his teeth so bad he heard one break.
“Yes he is,” Wade snapped, wiping more blood away from Peter’s nose. “You’re gonna be all right baby, I got you. I got you, I promise I got you–”
“Do you remember when we first met?” Peter asked, voice barely audible.
Wade nodded.
His throat felt clogged tight, he couldn’t find the words.
“I spent the whole night wondering what you looked like,” Peter reached up, touched Wade’s cheek, rubbed his thumb over the slight dip in his chin. “You have the prettiest eyes, darling.”
Wade laughed, wet and close to hysterics.
“Stop talkin’ like this is goodbye,” Wade reprimanded. He thought he heard someone running up to them and had his katana drawn and outstretched in the next breath.
“Deadpool,” it was Widow, her voice clipped, out of breath. “He’s…”
Peter shifted in Wade’s lap and the merc could feel the warmth of the hero’s blood through the leather.
“Wade,” Peter whispered, sounding weaker and Wade didn’t blink, didn’t want to miss anything.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave when I told you to,” Peter admitted, body convulsing in Wade’s arms.
“I’m like gum, baby, I’ve been stuck to your shoe since ’89,” Wade said, smiling despite the fact that he wanted to tear the world up, eat it raw, spit it out and watch it die because there was no way the feeling in his gut was right, there was no way that his baby–
“I–I got you something,” Peter whispered, and Wade was distantly aware of the crowd that had begun together but whether it was New Yorkers or the Avengers he didn’t have the presence of mind to tell.
There was only Peter.
“I left it under my pillow…I was gonna give it to you the night you proposed but…” he trailed off, his words slurring and Wade shook him, almost desperately.
“Peter! Hey! C-c’mon, you can’t leave a gal hangin…”
Peter didn’t move.
He didn’t blink.
He was completely still.
“Fuck no, hey, fuck this fucking–baby, c’mon, Petey, focus on me sweetheart, c’mon,” Wade pleaded, dropping his katana in favor of getting both arms around Peter.
[He’s dead] White said.
Yellow was silent.
Wade couldn’t hear himself screaming. He just knew that there was a pressure in his chest, something burning and hurtful and God–
He un-holstered Bea Arthur, pressed the barrel under his chin–
But someone grabbed the gun from him before he could pull the trigger and dammit that wouldn’t have done anything, wouldn’t take him to where his baby was. He was almost wild in his grief, feral, and he wanted to rip whoever just touched him limb from limb but then he’d have to let go of Peter and he couldn’t, he would never let go of Peter–
. . .
There was a ring pop under Peter’s pillow.
Red, because strawberry was Wade’s favorite.
(500)
Wade had gotten good at killing himself.
He found that a bullet straight to the brain took the longest regeneration time.
And Death did always enjoy their chats.
She was sitting in front of him, robes long and twisting like smoke, skeletal hands pulling her hood up over her head. She regarded Wade carefully.
“I think I know why you’re here,” she said, her voice smooth like honey over gravel.
“Just keep me,” Wade pleaded, “just let me be with him.”
She stepped forward, reaching up a hand to brush against Wade’s skin.
“You want to die?” she asked, her robes dancing about Wade’s ankles. “I thought you wanted more time.”
“The opposite,” Wade laughed but there was no joy to the sound. “Can you take me to him?”
Death studied him for a very long time. Eventually, she smiled.
“I’m going to miss our talks,” she said.
She kissed him.
Wade couldn’t keep the smile off his lips, even when he felt his body cave and there was nothing.
. . .
In the dark, two souls reaching, finding, ending, touched.
It was the best death Wade had ever had.