Archive of Our Own

Peter woke up with a racing heart.

They stared at the glow of their fairy lights shimmering on the ceiling and took a shaking breath. They barely had time to wonder why their heart was thudding so rapidly, or why they were even awake, when they heard the loud cracking pop coming from either the kitchen or the living room.

They sprung out of bed, threw open their bedroom door and ran out.

The living room was empty.

"What's going on?" Peter gasped, skidding into the kitchen and nearly careening into the kitchen table. "Who's shooting?"

Wade Wilson - clad in a slinky white satin dress and a dark brown faux fur coat - stared at Peter curiously, like Peter was the one acting odd.

"I heard - shots?" Peter asked, surveying the room and only seeing Wade and....an array of Peter's cheap champagne flutes that Peter used for orange juice and Wade's expensive champagne flutes that Wade used for champagne. All of them were lined up and most of them were filled. There were two empty bottles of champagne already lined up the counter.

"Oh!" Wade laughed, his shoulders and strand of pearls shaking with the motion; and his scar ridden cheeks and mouth pulled into a bright smile.

"It was the champagne bottle." Wade laughed and yanked on the cork of the third bottle that was in his hands.

Peter flinched as the sound reverberated through the room, the cork going flying and champagne fizzing out over the top of bottle.

"What the heckie, Becky? Why are you drinking champagne at - " Peter glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. " - at two in the morning?"

"Because I was listening to Fergie." Wade said, entirely and completely serious like that was a good explanation.

"Because you were listening to Fergie." Peter echoed in disbelief.

Wade shrugged, like that had been self explanatory. "And I wanted to be glamorous." He said finally.

"Alright." Peter relented. "I'm...going back to sleep."

"If you ain't got no money, take yo' broke ass home!" Wade chortled.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, okay, sure." They were way too tired to deal with this tomfoolery.

They left Wade giggling in the kitchen.

_______________________________________

Normally, Peter stayed out webslinging as Spiderman until at least five thirty on Monday evenings, but it seemed like everything was going pretty peacefully, and they were just really tired from the whole champagne misunderstanding. So one day of turning in early? Totally fine.

(Except maybe it wasn't fine, exactly, because it broke the unspoken schedule pattern and routine that both Peter and Wade were used to. Peter never had come home early before, only late.)

_______________________________________

One of Peter's hand deftly worked at the buttons of their coat as the other hand reached to close the door behind them. They flipped the lock and turned around.

And immediately came to a halt.

Peter stared at Wade, eyebrows furrowed. Wade stared at Peter, blinking innocently as he waited for a reaction.

"Are you wearing a wig?" Peter asked needlessly as they stared at the voluminous, ombre lime green-teal blue curls that were definitely not there when they had left earlier that day.

"Y....es?"

Peter squinted. "And did you...draw on matching eyebrows?" They had to ask, even as they clearly already knew the answer. They could see the wig's matching arches right there in front of them: eyebrows that started as lime green and blended seamlessly into teal blue, just like the wig. The eyebrows fell with the deep grooves of Wade's pocketed skin and lifted with his textured upraised patches. Wade had obviously painstakingly and lovingly spent a good long time delicately drawing the strokes with his makeup brush to mimic the look of hair.

It was weird seeing eyebrows on Wade - and not because of the bright color. Peter had kind of accepted it as a fact of life. Norman Osborn was a dick, Wade had no eyebrows, that sort of thing that just seemed so obvious and unchanging. So seeing them now drawn so precisely and lovingly, over the deep ridges and upraised scarring of Wade's skin that normally did not have eyebrows was jarringly surprising; and Peter felt it certainly did not deserve the way Wade looked at Peter in bemusement.

"Bless your soul." Wade said as he nodded solemnly, seemingly half put out and half impressed but Peter guessed he maybe was leaning towards more amused than anything. "I can't believe you noticed the wig and eyebrows before, you know, the nudity."

"The - ?" Suddenly when Peter blinked everything they hadn't seen before came into focus. "Holy tits, Batman." Peter flew into motion, flailed their arms widely up and down. "Put on a bra?? Before you poke someone's eye out??"

Wade let out a scoff. "How come you never have to wear a bra? Injustice."

Peter simply threw their noodling arms in the direction of Wade's voluptuous and naked chest. "Because I'm not walking around naked!" Peter froze. "Oh my gosh." They realized and closed their eyes immediately, redirecting the movements of their arms to slap their hands over their closed eyes. "You're naked."

Wade let out a sound that was far too close to triumphant and way too far away from apologetic.

Peter wondered how they had gotten to this point.

"Forget the bra." Peter relented. "Just put on some pants."

Wade's heavy footsteps began to walk away. "Prude." He grumbled, sounding like he was just complaining just to have something to complain about and not because he was actually upset - it was a vocal distinction that Peter could distinguish only some of the time.

"Yeah, yeah." Peter replied just as flippantly.

After a minute of standing, waiting, and listening, a door down the hall closed.

Peter peeked quickly from behind their hands and then sighed in relief, dropping their hands completely.

They began to finish unbuttoning their coat to hang on a coat hook, finally able to complete their routine.

Satisfied, they hung their coat on the hook and draped their scarf over the next hook. They lifted one foot at a time to unzip their ankle boot and then tugged it off, dropping it in a neat little row.

Wade's stomping footsteps approached, coming from the hall.

"Better?" Wade asked briskly, throwing out his arms and doing a twirl to model his new...outfit.

Peter didn't give him the reaction that they knew he was looking for.

"Better." They agreed, and began to walk away, refusing to look any further at the tight magenta booty shorts that read 'slay' on the, well, booty. Or the gleamingly glisten of the makeup sealant on Wade's heavily contoured abs and pecs that were.... probably painted on earlier but Peter must not have noticed, distracted by the wig and eyebrows.

(One of Wade's favorite pastimes was to accentuate his muscles and make himself Even More Extra Beefy than he already was by applying heaping amounts of darker and lighter makeup to contour and exaggerate the shape of the muscle. The sealant that he used was the shiniest thing Peter had ever seen in their life; and sometimes Peter swore that Wade's pecs and abs reflected glistened so much that Peter literally could use them as a mirror if they wanted to.)

Wade let out a quiet, "Huh." Presumably at Peter's lack of an exaggerated response like he had expected, but Peter could only guess.

Peter entered the kitchen and grabbed the color coded list of delivery places that they had pinned under a magnet on the fridge. "Today is....Monday? So today's deals are....Lucy's Pizza, Frankie's Deep Dish Pizza, Pho Real, or - " Peter made a face. " - ugh, Jimmy's Sandwiches."

"Babe, darling, honeydew melon." Peter jumped. Wade had swept silently into the room and only his verbal spew had announced his presence. His footsteps were usually dramatized and loud, and Wade couldn't seem to resist making some kind of ambient noise. But this time Peter was startled and Peter wondered fleetingly if they had been underestimating Wade's ability to be quiet all of this time.

"Sweet cheeks, sugar tits - " Wade continued, and Peter cut him off before he could get any more creative.

"What, Wade?"

Both of Wade's scarred hands rose in the air to do jazz hands. "Order off of any menu tonight - " Wade smoothly tucked in his arms, as if preparing to tap dance with a cane, as he turned his body sideways and moved his legs according. " - because I'm - " He slowly threw up both arms into the air in a wide, exuberant arch as his voice mimicked an olden time sound, like Frank Sinatra or something as he sang the next three words. " - buuuyying youu dinnerrrr!"

Peter was immediately suspicious.

But he wasn't going to ask any questions about it before he got a free meal.

"Yeah, sure." Peter nodded. "Sounds great."

Wade grinned, pulling his hands back and resting them on the smear of his hips where red bumpy scarred flesh met bumpy but foundation coated skin, looking extremely satisfied with himself.

"Oh, hey, have my card." Wade said and placed a plastic-y rectangle on the counter in a flurry of motion. "Ta-dah!"

Peter eyed Wade. Then they eyed the card.

They eyed Wade, clad only in a pair of booty shorts, a wig, and makeup. Then they eyed the card.

"Wade," Peter said slowly. "Where did that come from?"

"Ahh! Oooh!" Wade realized something with a wince. "Right. I'll grab you my other credit card."

"What's wrong with this one?" Peter asked, glancing at where it lay innocently - insidiously - on the counter, and really Peter should have known better by now to ask, and they really should have just let it go.

Wade coughed awkwardly. "Um. The other one's just cleaner, that's all."

Peter immediately took a step away from the counter. "Wade, so help me, if that was where I think it was - "

Wade let out a nervous, guilty giggle.

Peter closed their eyes and despaired, resolving themselves to having to bleach the counter.

"Let me just - " Wade grabbed the card off the counter and made a beeline for the door. "I'll wash it! And my hands! And, uh, I'll get the other card!" He paused. "I don't think I've ever stuck that one down my panties. Well. I'm pretty sure."

Peter took a deep breath, trying to resist screaming.

And then Peter took out his phone and remorselessly began to look up sushi delivery places without any regard to the price tag whatsoever.

After all, Wade was buying.

______________________________________

To Peter's surprise, Wade didn't wear the booty shorts to dinner.

He wore a prom dress.

Peter resolutely just accepted the free meal and didn't ask any questions. But they were much more thankful to have Wade wearing prom dress than the booty shorts.

Somehow though, Peter suspected, Wade might have been planning to wear that from the start, since his glittery floor length dress was the exact same ombre colors of his drawn on lime green and teal blue eyebrows and his wig.

"Oh! Oui, oui, let me get that for you, Mx. Parker." Wade stood quickly, with an attempt at a French accent.

"Oh." Peter blinked as Wade darted around the table and pulled back their chair for them to sit on, even though it hadn't been pushed in to start with and it now was an odd length from the table.

Wade lifted the chair - Peter and all - and heaved it closer to the table, dropping it closer to the table with a loud banging thunk.

"Your destination, mon ami." Wade announced, keeping up the accent.

"M-Merci." Peter answered back, composing themself. "Vous n'avez vraiment pas à faire ça."

"Oui, oui, baguette, croissant, hon hon." Wade replied without pause and moved to sit down as well.

Peter, on the other hand, did pause.

Then they burst into laughter.

Wade grinned widely at the sound, the divots and scars on his mouth pulling in a painful looking motion as he did so, the pocket marks on his cheeks scrunching equally as painful.

He daintily removed his elbow length silky white gloves as Peter reached for the bag of food that sat on the table between them.

"Oh, you know what we need!" Wade exclaimed. "A candle!" Wade wiggled his drawn on eyebrows as he purred, "To help set the mood. Mood lighting."

Peter, arm half in the air as they reached for the container of broccoli tempura, froze.

"W- what?" Peter asked, praying silently that Wade was merely joking.

"You know." Wade continued, oblivious. "An ambience. A certain - " Wade paused, tilted his head, green synthetic hair moving with the motion. Then he snapped his fingers victoriously. "A certain je ne sais quoi." He said proudly, cheesy French accent and all.

"Uhhh." Peter slowly set down the food in their hand on the table. Then crossed the fingers of both hands together and rested their hands on the table as they looked at Wade nervously. "Wade? Why would - " Peter cleared their throat. "Um. Why do we need candles and - and, uh, mood lighting?"

Wade blinked. "I'm trying to make a good first impression here!" He said, mock offended.

Peter didn't understand. "Okay. But I've? Um. Known you for months."

Wade waved a hand dismissively in the air.

"Well, duh. But that's not the point. When it's a first date lik- "

Peter let out an alarmed screech.

Wade froze, mouth still open mid-word and stared at them incredulously.

Peter stared back, just as alarmed.

"What the fresh piss what that?" Wade demanded at last, breaking the silent stare down.

"Guh." Peter replied, throwing a hand towards Wade as if that would verbalize what they couldn't say right now.

"No, seriously!" Wade protested. "What the shit!"

"Me?!" Peter gasped. "You! You the shit!"

Wade recoiled, placing a hand over his heart. "Peter!" He chided in mock horror. "I don't understand! I went back and censored all of your cursing up until now, how did this one slip through my editing eye?"

Peter did not have the patience today that they normally tried to exhibit when interacting with Wade.

"You!" Peter said angrily and Wade opened his mouth to say something but Peter managed to cut him off before he could interrupt. "Wade, what did you mean?"

"You're...gonna have to be more specific?" Wade asked, confused. He pushed back a strand of green hair behind his ear.

"You said date." Peter pointed out.

Realization dawned on Wade's face. "That's what you're freaking out about? What? Is this your first time on a date or something?"

Peter gaped.

The audacity.

"This isn't a date!" Peter shrieked.

Wade leaned back, wincing.

Peter cleared their throat.

"This isn't a date." Peter repeated, much more calmly.

Wade's face began to shut down. "Well I didn't know you'd protest so much just to the idea - the mere thought, oh no! - of being on a date with me." He sneered.

Peter's jaw dropped. "Are you - No. You don't get to try to guilt trip me into not being cool with you tricking me into going on a 'date' with you."

Wade scoffed, itching angrily at under wig and displacing it so that part of the hair was misaligned. "I didn't trick you into anything."

"'Oh, Peter.'" Peter mimicked angrily. "'I'll buy you dinner, don't worry it's free. I'm just not going to say that the real cost of it is a date!'"

Wade abruptly stood up from the table and slammed his hands down on it; Peter's heart thudded wildly in their chest. "And that would be so terrible? So disgusting and revolting to even imagine?"

"Yeah, you dickwad!" Peter yelled, their throat already begun to feel scratchy and achey from it, and they stood up as well. "Because even if I did want to date anyone, it wouldn't be okay to just - just impose it on me without even asking if I was okay with it!"

Wade opened his mouth and Peter braced for another tirade but nothing came out.

And then he was still silent. He sat back down, and he closed his eyes.

Peter's hands slowly unclenched from the tight fists they hadn't realized they were making, the crescent fingernail indents making themselves known only now as Peter did so.

Peter remained standing throat uncomfortably sore and skin feeling too tight and itchy.

And through all the wild and wacky and sometimes downright obnoxious stunts that Wade pulled, Peter had never seriously contemplated moving out before this moment.

"Look," Wade finally sighed, sounding tired, and opened his eyes once more.

Peter didn't want to look but they did.

Wade grimaced. "Listen, I thought - I must have said it to myself. I thought I said it to you. Before. I thought we were both on board for - for this." Wade gestured to the table with food still only partially scattered across it. "Obviously," Wade sighed again. "That wasn't the case. I must have only mentioned the possibility of it being a date to myself."

Peter tentatively sat back down.

Wade folded his hands on top of the table.

"This didn't start out as a date dinner, okay?" Wade explained. "I had the revelation today that 'well, shit, I'm really glad that my roommate is super cool with all the shit I pull.' And so it was just a thank you dinner. A platonic thank you dinner. But then, I mean, I got to thinking." Wade smiled bitterly. "Like, I'm thirty-four. You're twenty-eight. That's kind of close in age, you know? And I thought to myself, and I said, 'Wade, it's worth a shot because no one else has stayed with you this long since Vanessa.' And so then I was saying how one thing between you and me could lead to another. You know?"

Peter shuffled awkwardly in their seat. They decidedly were not going to ask about Cable, even though Deadpool had mentioned to Spiderman - not Peter Parker - that he had dated him.

So they just said, "Um."

Wade nodded. "Yeah, I mean. I'm sorry. I didn't say that. I am. I'm sorry. I didn't meant to try to date you without your consent. I just literally thought we had talked about it."

Peter nodded sympathetically even though some part of them still was extremely upset and would be for a long while. At least now they understood.

"Okay."

Wade sighed in relief.

He tilted his head, his askew wig tilting further. "But now that you know and we've talked about it, would you be interested in - "

"Noooo." Peter blurted immediately.

Wade's entire face fell but he shrugged. "Fair enough." Then he quirked a self-depreciative smile. "Did the thought of dating all of this put you off your food, or do you wanna eat now?"

"Oh, no." Peter rushed to explain. "It's not - No, Wade, hey, it's not - " Peter gestured at Wade, unsure of how to word it.

Wade snorted. "'It's not you it's me?'" He guessed.

Peter nodded though. "Wade," They said seriously, leaned forward and made sure they had his focus. "I don't date. Ever."

Wade's lime green and teal eyebrows scrunched together. "Okay?"

Peter nodded quickly. "I'm not interested in romantic - you know. Things. Dates. Dating people. I don't do it. Ever. Because I'm aromantic."

Wade's mouth drew together as he thought it over.

"So I really never had a chance with you?" Wade asked, nodding in understanding. "And it really isn't me. There's seriously no one that stands a better chance at getting a date?"

"No one." Peter agreed.

"Huh." Wade said.

Peter tried to gauge how Wade was reacting and it seemed positive.

And hopefully Peter wouldn't have to end up moving out, like they had been fearing when the whole date thing had erupted.

"Alright." Wade clucked his tongue against his teeth. "Let's finally, actually eat."

Peter sighed in relief.

"Yeah." They agreed, reaching once again for the broccoli tempura.

_______________________________________

"What's on today's men-ah-you?" Wade dragged out slowly, punctuating each syllable with a jab of his finger towards Peter.

"Well, I'm making chickpeas with a chimi -

"-changa!" Wade finished the word eagerly.

Peter paused and then they continued, correcting him. "Churri. Chimichurri."

Wade cocked his head. "What in the fresh flying hell is a chimichurri?"

"It's - sort of like an herb chutney, kind of. No?" Peter asked uncertainly as Wade continued to stare in incomprehension.

"Huh." Wade said finally.

He brought his forearms onto the counter to recline his weight on to as they slouched against the tile. "Chim-chimichurri. Chim chim churri." They sang and he pouted when Peter didn't reply. "No? Come on, that was peak humor right there! The Mary Poppins song but about chimichurris, instead of chim-chim-eneys! You know? With the chimney guy that's like all - " Wade imitated a poorly executed version of an overly dramatized cockney accent. "- 'ello, 'ello! Get it?"

Peter shut the fridge with maybe a smidgen more force than necessary. "Yeah, I get it, Wade."

"Oh. Well. Good." Wade nodded, pausing. "It was funny, right?"

Peter closed their eyes for a moment. "Wade. You know what. It was hilarious, yes."

"Hilarious? Well, I wouldn't go that far." Wade scoffed, face twisting in drawn out disgust.

Peter set the oregeno plant down on the counter with a startlingly loud, crashing bang. "Oh." They said in surprise, blinked. "Whoops."

"Did you just break the counter?" Wade asked, leaning forward to check; he sounded excited.

"No!" Peter responded defensively, heart beating too fast at the reminder of when they had slipped up on the control of their spidey strength and had smashed off a corner piece of the counter; it was one time Wade would never let it go. "Just - the ceramic pot is broken, is all."

"Oh." Wade said in disappointment, scrunched up his nose, and leaned back again against the counter. "That would have been sweeeet."

______________________________________

The first time Wade had stumbled home bleeding more than a horror movie character, he was covered in grotesquely disturbing and fatal wounds and a triumphant but pained smile. He held his severed arm with one hand and had used it wave at Peter.

Peter had screamed.

Okay so maybe it wasn't their finest moment, but sue them because how were they supposed to know that Wade had some sort of healing ability that could literally reattach limbs?

The second time that it had happened, Wade had been wearing a shredded red and black spandex costume that was way too familiar and leaking blood, guts, ab padding from his the costume of his Deadpool-clad stomach.

So that's how Peter discovered that it really was a small, small, absolutely minuscule, small world after all.

_______________________________________

It was surprisingly easy to live with Deadpool because, well, most of the time Peter wasn't living with Deadpool. They were living with Wade.

And there was definitely a difference between the man versus the mercenary.

_______________________________________

So ever since that they had been made aware of it, after Wade underwent strenuous amounts of healing, Peter tried to double whatever food items they made for themself and bring some to Wade as well.

And whenever Peter came out into the kitchen and Wade saw them in their ultra soft sweats and their favorite oversized sweater trailing its sleeves down their raptor-ing hands curled at their waist, Wade would shoo them over to the couch; he'd say that he had been having a hankering for some pancakes - and wouldn't Peter want some too?

It was a silent arrangement of barely acknowledged gratitude that kept both of them somewhat afloat.

"I've got breakfast." Peter cheerfully announced they waltzed into Wade's open bedroom door on one such morning, as Wade rubbed at his shoulder absentmindedly.

"Oh, man," Wade beamed. "Pretty Titty, I could marry you right now, that sounds so - "

Peter set down a plate they had been holding on the bedside dresser with a delicate clink against the counter; and Wade cut himself off in startled astonishment.

"Babe." Wade said finally after a moment of abject bewilderment. He blink addled eyes and then opened them. It was still there. He stared at the vast, heaping plate of eggs in disbelief.

Peter gestured wildly in a 'what can you do, I accidentally made a ridiculously abundant amount of eggs so now you have to endure it too' motion like things like that could just happen.

"....This is too many eggs. " Wade said in aghast, horrified anguish.

Peter began to back away.

"It's too many!" Wade exclaimed in protest, backing away from the plate in a mad scrabble that left him half-dangling off of his full sized mattress and on to his soft (variegated and bloodstained mottled) white faux fur rug.

Peter retreated out of the room and slammed the door securely closed.

"It's too many!" Wade half screeched, half sobbed from behind the door.

All in all, Peter considered it a job not too badly done.

____________________________________

"Ugh, my roommate has been so annoying lately." Peter complained as they stole some of Johnny's fries remorselessly. "He keeps bleeding all over the sofa. Like? It's so unsanitary?"

"The what now?" Johnny asked, face blanching in shock.

"And like - he says he'll buy a new one and he does but then not even a day later, he bleeds on that one too!" Peter continued on, about to full on rant.

"Peter, where is you heart?" Johnny asked in disbelief.

"Is your roommate okay?" MJ asked, setting down her tea on the cafe's table.

"Oh yeah he's fine." Peter waved them both off. "And as long as he pays the rent, it's all good."

MJ leaned back in her chair. "Wowwww." She said, wildly unimpressed.

"Peter," Johnny begun to say hesitantly which was what finally clued Peter in because Johnny Storm was never hesitant about anything.

"Oh!" Peter realized. "No! No, no, no! You guys! He's fine! He like - " Peter leaned in close. "I think he's a mutant." He lied. "And he must have some sort of - " Peter gave a look around the cafe and lowered their voice, hoping that their friends would take the hint that maybe they shouldn't talk too much about powered people in public, " - you know."

Understanding dawned on both of their faces.

"Ohhhh." MJ said and chuckled, sounding relieved. "So when you said - ohhhh."

"He's fine! Totally fine!" Peter assured them eagerly.

"Phew." Johnny said, voice teasing now that they both had determined that Peter wouldn't just let their roommate bleed out to death on the sofa. (And, really, thanks a lot guys.)

"Geez, how'd you even find this guy?" MJ asked curiously.

Peter opened their mouth, closed it.

"Listen." They said preemptively, and both MJ and Johnny started to cackle.

"I was buying knockoff tsum tsums." Peter explained, a flush on their face as they realized how sketchy this was going to sound to their friends. "And I had been asking the street vendor for a while about when they were gonna get a Spiderman tsum tsum, so when the vender saw me, they recognized me. And they so they told me, you know, that they had them and I could finally get one."

"So you moved in with the street vendor for a Spiderman tsum tsum?" Johnny asked, horrified and confused.

"What? No? No." Peter shook their head. "Anyways, and so there was this guy in a hoodie and he was like 'Oh you must really like Spiderman' and - "

Johnny snickered.

"- and I was like 'Oh you know, Spidey's great.' And so it turned out that he had this apartment level that he owned and he was looking to share the apartment with someone he could trust. And there's no one he'd trust more than someone that buys a Spiderman tsum tsum."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." MJ interjected. "You've skipped a ton."

"Yeah," Johnny's eyes narrowed. "One second you guys are talking about Spidey and the next second he's asking you to move in?"

"Uh." Peter scratched behind their ear. "No?"

"Oh my God." MJ groaned. "Peter!"

"You!" Johnny spluttered.

"What were you - "

"Could have been an axe murderer, Pete!"

Peter threw up their hands. "Hey, what the heckie, Becky? I've been living there for months, and I'm still alive!"

MJ and Johnny shared a dubious look. Peter let out a scoff.

"Listen." They said emphatically. "He just wanted someone to move in with him so his landlord would stop pestering him about how he pays his rent. Apparently he - inherited? - the money and the questions about how he can afford the rent by himself just get awkward because he doesn't like to talk about it and she kept asking."

Peter was the one feeling awkward when they gave the lie to their friends that they themself had bought before they knew Wade was Deadpool. 'Inheritance.' More like, the landlord had kept seeing Wade come to his apartment bloody, with literal limbs sometimes missing, and even occasionally dragging a limp body or two and gotten increasingly - and rightfully - convinced that Wade was involved in something unscrupulous and shady.

And that's where Peter - spiffy, not unsavory, beloved Spiderman photographer and lowkey famous "Peter Parker, where have I heard that name before? Oh! Oh my!" - came into play.

Janet Wilcox waved at Peter jovially every single time that she spotted them. And whenever Peter saw her when she spotted Wade, she now merely grimaced instead of looking like she was about to vomit all over the floor like she used to do.

So all in all, it seemed like Wade's plan of making the landlord like his roommate - and him by association - was working. She had left them a handmade 'Happy holidays!' card in the mail and had even scribbled Wade's name on the envolope, even though the inside of the card only addressed Peter.

"I don't know," MJ shook her head. "Sounds sketchy to me. The cheap rent was one thing. But the guy approaching you and you accepting before you even knew his name? Just. Stay safe, okay?"

Peter nodded. "I'm fine. I've been fine. I'll be fine too."

Johnny huffed. "Still sounds like he probably murders people, to me."

Only if he gets paid. Peter thought to themself.

"It's fiiiine." Peter repeated.

"Just call us if you ever need us." MJ offered sincerely.

"Thank you." Peter nodded, smiled. "Everything is seriously fine."

_____________________________________

Everything was seriously not fine.

"Um." Peter eyed the, er, messy entranceway as they closed the front door.

"Wade?" Peter called out, eyeing the trail of blood and not taking their eyes off of it as they stepped around it carefully, not bothering to take off their coat or scarf which was really throwing off their routine.

"Hmm?" Wade called back finally, the noise passive aggressive and pent up anger.

Peter made it to the kitchen without stepping in anything and eyed Wade cautiously.

"Um." Peter blinked, the jarring feeling of seeing Deadpool, not Wade, sitting on their kitchen counter surreal.

Peter preferred it when Wade didn't wear the suit around the apartment. Peter associated the suit with, well, Deadpool. And they much preferred interacting with Wade to Deadpool.

"What's up?" Peter ask finally.

Deadpool began to swing his legs idly from his easy perch on the counter.

"Oh you know." He said, and it was unnerving to not be able to see Wade's face, to not be able to try and place what he was feeling by his hidden expression. The mask had a wide reach of movement but it severely limited what Peter was used to reading from Wade's countenance.

"Just hanging around." Deadpool finally answered.

Peter's eyes narrowed in slight confusion. The answer had been...tame. Certainly unexpected from what they had come to expect from Deadpool.

"Oh. Okay." Peter nodded. "Do you wanna...um....there's blood... and, uh...."

Deadpool sighed heavily.

"God it's like living with my mother. 'Clean up the blood! There's blood! Clean it up!'" Deadpool mimicked in a falsetto. Then they resumed talking in their normal voice. "I mean for fuck's sake, it's just blood."

Peter's finger itched at their sides for something to self soothe with.

Peter turned around and walked away, wanting no part of whatever this was.

Deadpool let out a loud scoff. "Whatever!" He angrily called out after Peter.

____________________________________

When Peter emerged cautiously from their room to grab a water bottle and some food, Wade was out of the suit and had quite obviously cleaned up.

Still, Peter debated entering the kitchen since Wade was in there. But as they stood there silently, watching Wade calmly finish off an orange, their stomach rumbled loudly.

Wade turned and Peter blanched.

"Oh, look who decided to show their face. I know right?" Wade muttered to himself.

Peter anxiously rocked back onto their heels, shifting their weight from their toes and back again to their heels in a repetitive rocking motion as they stood there.

Wade glared at Peter, and Peter wondered if they should leave or stick it out before this whole thing escalated without Peter ever having known what was wrong.

And finally Wade spoke to Peter.

"'I don't do relationships, Wade.'" Wade snidely said, imitating Peter's voice unflatteringly. "I don't date anyone!'"

Peter frowned, hackles immediately raised. "Um." They began to interject angrily but Wade ranted on.

"What you really meant was 'I'm already in a relationship with Spiderman, Wade.'"

Peter's jaw dropped. "What???"

Wade sneered, expression turning dark.

"What you think I wouldn't notice? You. Spiderman."

Peter's heart froze and then picked up in double time.

"Whaaat?" Peter laughed nervously. "Pfft, yeah right."

Wade's scarred and mottled lips pulled back; his eyes gleamed nastily. "What? You thought icky ol' me would lose interest if you said you didn't do relationships, not just that you already had a boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Peter whispered in dazed disbelief, unsure of how it had come to this. The whiplash feelings of having been braced for an argument, then the terror of being outed as Spiderman, and now this - whatever it was - swirled in a mixed jumbled that clouded Peter's head.

"Oh come on!" Wade groaned. "You're still sticking with that lame-o story? I'll clue you in. Tall, red and blue, and handsome? Climbs into your window at night and doesn't leave until the next morning? Has a really, really....really....." Wade blinked, the anger draining slightly from his face as he seemed to stare off into the distance. "....really great ass." He finally concluded with a blink.

"Um." Peter responded instinctively but didn't have anything to follow up with.

Wade shook his head and spoke to himself. "I don't understand it. Spiderman. Of all the people in New York, I'm sharing a flat with Spiderman's lover."

Then, raising his voice, he turned his attention back to Peter. "So? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Uhhhh," Peter stalled for time, faced with the dilemma of deciding what was worse: them being discovered as being Spiderman or them being 'discovered' as dating Spiderman.

"Yup." Peter agreed weakly. "You're exactly right."

"I knew it." Wade whispered. And then he seemed to switch gears easily, shifting into an excited mood and letting go of his anger for now as he tried to get the inside scoop.

(Peter wasn't sure if Wade had been more angry the thought of Peter 'lying' or if a specific 'lie' had upset him, but Peter was just relieved to accept that Wade was content to let go of that anger for now. Even if that peace was temporarily, Peter did not want to have to go through that again. So they clung to Wade's newfound, easygoing mood thankfully.)

"So, tell me. Spiderman's ass: better with the spandex or without the spandex?" Wade waited for an answer eagerly, the blank area of skin where eyebrows used to be raised in an expectant crinkle.

Peter contemplated flinging themself out the window. Anything to avoid this conversation, and maybe then their Spiderman reveal would actually be less painful than this.

"Uhhh...." Peter shrugged uncommittingly.

Wade nodded. "You're right; I'd imagine that that's probably a tough decision. Okay," Wade held up his hands excitedly and Peter braced for impact. "So, does Spiderman live here?"

"No?" Peter shook their head quickly. "Noooo. They, uh, live somewhere...else."

Wade nodded. "So are you guys, like, going steady or are you more of a booty call?"

Peter closed their eyes and reminded themself to breathe.

Wade gasped.

"Is Spiderman your booty call?!?" Wade sounded far too delighted - and impressed? - for Peter to deal with this any longer.

"Wade." Peter said sternly. "My business is my business, okay?"

"Okay!" Wade mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

"Mm!" Wade made a muffled noise and then retraced the motions and mimed unzipping his lips. "One last one! So between the two of you, in the relationship..." Wade grinned devilishly and Peter had a bad feeling about it. "Which of you is the pina colada and which of you is the sex on the beach?"

"Go take a hike." Peter grumbled, face flushing.

Wade laughed. "Ooh, I'm so scared." He waved his hands around in the air dismissively. "A hike." Wade saddled up to Peter's side and nudged them playfully with their shoulder.

Peter eyed the spot of contact where Wade had left a vaguely mustard-like stain on Peter's shirt in silent outrage.

"But seriously." Wade grinned. "Which one of you is the pink lady and which one is the red delicious?"

"Wade," Peter protested half-heartedly, knowing it was probably futile.

"Which one of you is the ambiguously drawn skeleton that hets assume is a male and which one of you is the one with dem bone tiddies?"

"Gah." Peter rubbed at their temples.

Wade shook his head and threw an arm around Peter jovially. "Silly me, right? Everyone knows that Spidey's tiddies-tits are almost as good as mine."

"Please stop talking." Peter begged.

Wade lifted his arm and flicked Peter's ear rudely. "Uh, how 'bout I'll stop talking when you stop banging Spiderman?"

Peter wanted to scream. Instead, they merely said, "Ah."

"Ah, aah, ah, ahh, ah?" Wade offered questioningly, his voice getting breathier and breather with each word in imitation of, well, things that Peter did not like to think about.

Peter shoved their way out of Wade's grip. "Yeah, okay, that's enough interaction for today. Or this week."

Wade pouted. "Aw, alright. You tell Spidey-poo that I say hi okay? Tell him that I like his ass!"

Peter nodded even as vertigo was sweeping through them at an alarming pace. "Will do," They croaked. "But I'm pretty sure that Spidey....poo.....knows that."

"Awesome." Wade breathed.

And Peter took that as their cue that it was sociably acceptable to flee the kitchen.

_______________________________________

"Oh my hecking fuck." Wade said suddenly, dropping the tv remote, and Peter looked over at him.

"Hm?"

"Is it a sex thing?" Wade asked, both aghast and seemingly reluctantly impressed. "That's why Spiderman lets you take his picture? Because I'm totally kink-shaming, bee-tee-dubs."

Peter gaped. "No, it's not - I'm a professional photographer, Wade. I take those pictures like any other photographer does: hard work and skill."

Wade squinted. "Is that an innuendo?"

Peter threw up their arms. "You're an innuendo!" They burst out and immediately felt ridiculous.

Wade shrugged. "Eh. You're not wrong."

Even still, Peter resolved themself to sucking down their chocolate soy milk through their cute blue straw in sulky silence.

Wade didn't even notice - or he pretended not to, Peter wasn't quite sure which - and he kept up his occasional one sided conversation without ever calling Peter out for not responding, even when the chocolate milk was clearly gone as Peter slurped at the bottom of the cup determinedly.

Peter only admitted defeat an entire episode of How It's Made later and set down their empty glass on the coffee table.

"Bup, bup, bup!" Wade chided immediately. "Use a coaster!"

Peter gave Wade's coaster-less glass - as per usual - a dirty look. Really, though.

Knowing a losing - and familiar - battle when they saw one, Peter got up off the sofa to grab a coaster.

And while they were up, they refilled their glass with some more chocolate milk. Since they were up anyways.

_______________________________________

"Okay so question." Wade said as he was chopping up multiple watermelon.

"Shoot." Peter said immediately and then winced, regretting giving that widespread blanket permission.

"So are you, like, seriously aromantic or were you just saying that so I wouldn't discover your clandestine costumed canoodler?"

Peter's heart sunk to the floor.

"I am." They said softly. "I am aromantic."

"Huh. Wade said, sounding surprised.

"Mmm." Peter hummed, not trusting themself to say words. They feared they would blurt out the truth and never stop.

I'm aromantic! And I'm asexual! And I'm not involved with Spiderman! I AM Spiderman!

Yeah.

"So you and Spidey," Wade said contemplatively, "You guys really are just Netflix and Chill? Just the eggplant and smirk emojis? No heart eye smiley faces or cute little movie dates? Huh. I always took Spiderman as the type that would like movie dates. But I guess he's just a 'bam, wham, thank you ma'am' sort of guy. I get that."

Peter made a vague noise that they hoped could pass as agreement.

Wade flipped a piece of melon in the air and sliced it with a flourish.

"Ayyyy!" Wade cheered softly as the somewhat dick shape piece of watermelon turned out how he had intended.

Peter sighed.

______________________________________

Thwip, thwip.

Spiderman was ready to go home and get some sleep. They'd been ready for hours; in fact, they were born ready to get some sleep.

So when they approached their building and saw the red and black figure standing on the roof waving frantically as Spiderman approached, they mourned the sleep they were about to miss and turned around completely to head back out there in the city doing what good doers do.

"Spidey!" Deadpool cried out in an odd mixture of exuberance and despair. "Come back!!! I have to talk to youuuu!"

Spiderman just kept swinging.

"That's fine!" Deadpool called out passive aggressively, voice easily carrying. "I know where you do the dirty! I can wait!"

Spiderman sighed heftily. They debated the merits of stopping and just getting this - whatever it was - over with versus continuing on and not having to deal with it right now.

"I'm gonna tell Parker that you're into something really kinky if you don't get back here!!!"

Begrudgingly, they turned back around because there was no fucking way that they wanted to end up having that conversation with Wade.

Deadpool's mask crinkled as he grinned victoriously as Spiderman landed on the roof.

"Ha!" Deadpool snorted. "I knew that would work."

"What do you want?" Spiderman groaned.

"Ah." Deadpool looked as embarrassed as someone covered by a mask could appear. "I wanted to talk to you."

Spiderman crossed their arms. "Well, I'm here. So talk."

"Geesh, I wonder if he talks to Peter like that? I hope not." Deadpool muttered to himself.

Spiderman slowly inhaled and then slowly exhaled.

"Deadpool," They said calmly, ignoring the way he squealed in delight at hearing his own name. "What did you want to talk about?"

Deadpool nodded. "I wanted to make sure you treat Peter right, you know?" At that, Spiderman blinked. Unaware of that, Deadpool continued on. "Peter's not going to date you. You know that right?"

Spiderman pinched the bridge of their nose. "What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish here?"

Deadpool crossed his arms as well. "Listen, I just want to make sure you're not going to be a dick to my roomie. That's all."

"I know that...Peter.....is aromantic."

And, boy howdy, did it feel weird to talk about themself in the third person.

Deadpool's mask shifted as his face lit up. "Oh! Good! So you guys both know it's just - " Deadpool began to move his hips in what was sure to become something obscene in a few seconds.

Spiderman cut him off.

"I think you're under the misapprehension that you somehow deserve details about our romantic and/or sexual activity. It's private."

Deadpool's jaw visibly dropped beneath his mask. "What?"

Spiderman nodded. "What Peter and I do - or don't do - is between us as consenting adults."

Deadpool blew a raspberry. "Ugh. You're no fun, but I should have expected that since you're banging Vanilla Peter of all people."

And they couldn't explain why that made something in their chest twist painfully but it did. Somehow, it was hurtful?

"I'm actually not." Spiderman blurted thoughtlessly.

"Not vanilla?" Deadpool asked, fanning himself exaggeratedly with one hand as they pretended to swoon.

"Not banging Peter." Spiderman corrected.

Deadpool's mask crinkled deeply.

He didn't say anything for a long moment.

"What the shit nugget?" He finally burst. "That doesn't make any sense! If you're not dating Peter - and you're not fucking Peter, then what do you guys do?" Deadpool snorted and then saracastically added, "Uh huh. I'm sure you two are just playing Dungeons and Dragons together."

Spiderman shrugged aloofly.

Internally alarm bells went off because Oh shit, they had to actually follow through on their bluff? Was it a bluff if it was kind of true??

"Photography." They blurted out suddenly. "Sometimes the pictures that they take don't develop right or the action shots turn out too blurry in some spots. So Parker has me recreate the photograph's pose, and he edits the two images later to produce one photo that has crisper lines, cleaner edges."

Deadpool gaped.

"What?"

Feeling ridiculous, Spiderman nodded. "Yeah."

Deadpool stared, mask unblinking.

Spiderman felt they were on the verge of having their secret identity exposed and it would serve them right for letting this whole thing go on for so long and -

"That makes sense!" Deadpool agreed, sounding awed. "No wonder Parker always gets the best shots!"

Spiderman nodded quickly. Maybe too quickly.

"Exactly!"

"Oh my God," Deadpool breathed. "I have seen the light. All the answers to the universe just - " He made a small explosion motion with his hands and a corresponding sound, " - puh! Solved right before my very eyes. Wow. I can't believe it. Wow."

"So I'm just gonna - "

"Oh yeah!" Deadpool nodded enthusiastically. "You two do what you need to do!"

"Mm-hmm. Thank you." Spiderman gave an awkward wave.

All in all, they decided, this was one of the least painful Deadpool encounters thus far.

They turned to go climb down the building and finally, finally get some rest in their room.

"His ass is shit-hot." Deadpool said to himself in awe.

....Yeah, well. Maybe every one of their Deadpool encounters was terrible but at least their Wade encounters were sure to be significantly improved now that he knew that Peter and Spiderman weren't banging.

_______________________________________

"And you guys weren't even fucking!" Wade exclaimed for the fourteenth time that morning, laughing boisterously.

Peter let out a weak laugh, wondering how long Wade was going to repeatedly and delightedly retell the story over and over to them.

"Who knew!" Wade exclaimed in mirth.

"Oh, I think I knew." Peter said to themself and accidentally mimicked Wade's sing song tone of giddiness, making Wade think that they were joining in on the joke; Wade laughed at what he thought was Peter being clever.

"The whole time!" Wade said, throwing his arms up in glee.

"Yup." Peter agreed, idly wondering if if they could sneak away to grab their soft squish toy to squeeze or if Wade would mind.

Abruptly Wade was still, the laughter on his puckered lips still frozen

"Peter." Wade said, eyes wide. "Peter, do you know what this means?"

"Um...." They did not.

Wade wiped a stray tear from his eye.

"No one's banging Spiderman!" He half sobbed. "Spiderman doesn't have a bae! I still have a chance!"

"....Ah." Peter said, voice carefully detached.

Wade turned teary eyes towards them. "Will you tell him - " He sniffled up snot with a disgusting sound. " - tell him how much I love his ass? And his thighs? His thighs save lives, Peter. I would die for those thighs."

"I'll - I'll....um. Tell...him...." Peter promised, feeling like it was okay to do so since, well, they were Spiderman.

"Peter," Wade sobbed. "You're the best roommate. Thank you for not banging Spiderman. You're a true friend."

Peter nodded. "Yup."

Wade waddles towards the hallway. "I need - fuck - I need some Kleenex."

Peter numbly picked up their phone. They slowly inhaled as the dial rang and held their breath.

"Hellllloooo?" Johnny asked pleasantly. In the background, there was noise that suspiciously sounded like a toilet flushing.

Peter released their breath in one long, "FUUUUUUUHHHHHHH" right against the receiver.

"Shit!" Johnny yelped in surprise and then there was a loud splash. "Ack! Nooooo, not the - Toilet, ugh! Nooo, whyyyyy???"

"Serves you right for answering the phone while peeing." Peter muttered petulantly.

"Peter???" Johnny's voiced asked over the phone, sounding surprised and a little far away.

"No!" Peter yelped. And they slammed their finger against the call end button repeatedly and frantically.

They stared at their phone for a moment, praying.

Their phone lit up as Johnny called back.

Peter let out a noise of despair.

They hurriedly pressed ignore.

"Why me?" Peter asked the world at large as Johnny called back yet again. "I have never done a single thing wrong in my life - so why me?"

Johnny sent a text, evidently having given up on calling.

"'Peter?? r u okay? Why r u not answerin me??'" Peter read out loud and sighed.

They called Johnny.

"Peter!" Johnny cried out as he rapidly and instantly answered the call.

"Peter can't come to the phone right now." Peter said monotonously, picking at a loose thread on their sweater.

"Wha - "

"Because he's dead." Peter interrupted, smiling smugly.

"What the fuck, you fucking meme." Johnny gasped. "I dropped my phone in the toilet for this? I'm literally holding my toilet-phone up to my face instead of - I dunno - sanitizing it or drying it off because it's literally covered in toilet water. All for your meme."

"You're the best." Peter said, and they finally managed to pull the loose thread off their sweater without causing anything else to fray.

Johnny made a startled, choked noise but quickly recovered. "And don't you forget it!"

"Mm."

"Say," Johnny's voice turned curious. "How did you get this number? I thought that you didn't have a cell phone? Isn't that what you said?"

Peter inhaled slowly.

"FFFFFFFFFFFF!" They blew out heavily against the phone's mouthpiece.

"GAH!" Johnny yelped in shocked right before Peter hung up.

Peter felt somewhat better about life and vaguely victorious until their phone chimed with an incoming text from Johnny. "^•^ I have ur number now!"

Peter groaned. "I have literally never done anything wrong in my life, what have I done to deserve this?"

"Peterrrrr!" Wade called from across the apartment. "Does Spiderman prefer blondes or brunettes? Actually, I have a couple of other wigs besides those, but that's not the point!"

"Spiderman prefers monks!" Peter yelled. "Go earn a priesthood, become a nun. And then in like twenty years, then we'll talk."

Wade laughed. "El oh el, Peter. You innocent soul. Don't worry; I get what you're saying, wink wink."

"There is no 'wink wink.'" Peter grumbled.

Peter stared up at the ceiling in exasperation.

"Oh forget it." Peter said and decided that they definitely were either going to have to either do this or move out.

"Wade, I gotta talk to you." Peter called, and turned to the hallway.

"Just a minuuuute!" Wade called back warmly. "I was trying out options. But I'll find pants. The Peter-pants rule."

Peter stopped walking and closed their eyes, just in case. "Wade, I'm just going to say this before I lose the nerve. Spiderman's not going to have sex with you."

There was a sudden and loud crash.

"Oh." Wade said, and Peter couldn't tell if it was in response to what they said or what had sounded like maybe a lamp breaking.

"Spiderman is - like me." Peter said, anxiously twiddling their fingers.

"He doesn't date people?" Wade wondered.

"Right." Peter said, nodding, eyes still closed. "But I'm also asexual. And even though the asexual spectrum ranges for me, personally, it means that I'm not going to have sex. Ever. And Spiderman's like that too."

Wade's voice - way too close, what the actual shit - sounded from in front of Peter. And Peter opened their eyes, startled, as Wade angrily hissed, "I might not be aromantic or asexual, but I am also queer as fuck so I think I have a right in this when I say to stop outing Spiderman's sexual and romantic orientation."

Peter gaped. "What? No!"

Wade sneered, taking a step forward and looking way too menacing for someone that was only wearing a long fuzzy polka dotted robe.

Peter dragged a hand down their face.

"Wade." They said. "I'm Spiderma-."

"-man's photographer, I know." Wade nodded. "That doesn't give you the fucking right!"

Peter groaned.

Then they turned around and began walking.

"Hey!" Wade protested. "This isn't over!"

Peter walked straight up the wall.

"Wade," Peter said from their perch on the ceiling.

Wade was silent as he gaped.

"I AM Spiderman." Peter said once again.

Wade stared, mouth open.

"Wade?"

Wade plopped into a heap on the floor as he sat, staring up at Peter incredulously.

"No way." He breathed.

"Way." Peter said, unable to resist.

"Spiderman?" Wade said, sounding uncertain.

"Spiderman." Peter confirmed.

"But that means - " Wade paused and suddenly a new thought seemed to take form across his face. "Oh noooo, I told Spiderman that I think their taste in clothes is a shabby and mediocre attempt that only constitutes as fashion purely based on the fact that they're a skinny white boy with a pretty face!"

"Uhh." Peter descended from the ceiling slowly. "You, uh, didn't tell me that."

"Oh." Wade said and blinked. "Well I must have thought it then."

"Uh huh." Peter said and looked at their fraying sweater with new scrutiny.

"So, um," Peter said awkwardly as they wondered if this whole time Wade had really hated Peter's entire wardrobe. "So now you understand right? Why Spiderman won't date you? Or have sex with you?"

Wade sniffed haughtily. "Yeah, yeah."

Peter nodded. "Okay."

Wade shrugged. "Okay."

"So.... now what?" Peter asked.

Wade's face scrunched too quickly, and he winced as his textured skin painfully pinched together.

"What do you mean 'now what'? Now you carry on crank calling Johnny Storm Fire Fire Fire, and I'll continue on trying my lingerie."

Peter pivoted on their heel and began to walk away.

"What?" Wade asked. "A genderqueer man can't even try on push up bras in his own home? Or thongs? Or - "

"Guh." Peter covered their ears and sped away quickly.

_______________________________________

Peter's nose wriggled preemptively and they grabbed at a tissue with one hand as their head began to tilt back. "Ah - ah - ahCHOO!"

"That's disgusting." Wade observed idly, chewing noisily and mouth half full as his hand loudly sifted around in the crinkling bag for more peanuts to cram in his mouth. "You're like a snot fountain."

Peter closed their eyes, which were feeling heavy with an aching they knew meant that the sneezing had only just begun.

They wiped at their nose slowly, limbs feeling way too heavy but unable to ignore the disgusting wetness of mucus everywhere.

"I'm sick." Peter said, and it was pretty redundant all things considered.

"I didn't know Spiderman could get sick." Wade mused idly.

Peter glared at him. "You're really - " They paused as their nose twitched and their head threw back in a viscous sneeze "ACHOO!" Peter sniffled and wiped again at their nose. " - Not helping."

Wade shrugged. "Would it help if I told a joke?"

"How??" Peter asked in bafflement.

"Okay, so!" Wade carried on despite Peter's lack on enthusiasm. "A genderqueer man, a nonbinary enby, and someone that everyone assumes is a cis man all walk into a bar - "

Peter groaned.

Wade paused. "You haven't heard this one have you?"

Peter just groaned again, not willing to waste their energy on words of all things.

Wade peered at them dubiously for a moment and then continued. "And so the genderqueer man says to the enby, "Hey are you dee-too-eff and the enby's like 'nah I'm aroace.' And so the genderqueer man goes to the cis man, and he's like 'what about you, Pretty Titty? Are you dee-too-eff?' And the cis man goes 'No, I'm the aroace enby.' Bah dum dah!" Wade imitated a crash symbol noise as he said what was presumably the punchline.

"Did you just attempt to turn my life into a 'three people walk onto a bar' joke?" Peter asked, squinting blearily across the sofa at Wade in disbelief.

"Of course not." Wade said, sounding offended.

"Oh." Peter said and tried to snuff up a trail of dripping snot so that they wouldn't have to reach for more tissues.

"I made our lives into a 'three people walk into a bar' joke." Wade corrected, chortling.

Peter sighed and closed their eyes.

"You're a 'three people walked into a bar' joke." Peter muttered.

"I just said that. Didn't I just say that?" Wade paused. "Go to sleep, babe. You're like. Mega sick. Ultra sick. Super mega ultra times infinity with a cherry on top sick."

"Yeah." Peter agreed and snuggled further into the couch cushion. "Sure."

_______________________________________

Peter woke up the next day in their own bed, mucus trailing in streams down their face and onto their pillow and even their sweater.

"That's disgusting." Wade said from the doorway, sounding awed.

Peter glared at him, sitting up.

All the the blood rushed to their head dizzyingly, and Peter moaned pitifully.

"Easy there, champ." Wade cautioned belatedly.

Peter mumbled at him incoherently, which was fine since they didn't really plan what they were saying anyways.

"I come bringing present." Wade paused. "I come bringing a present, there we go, that sounds better."

Peter just groaned and moved to extend one arm for the present; the arm flopped uselessly to the bed. Peter let out another groan and rubbed their snot-nose against their soaked pillow.

"Meeeeeet the tsum tsum-vers!" Wade cheered and stepped close to drop an armful of soft miniature plush cylinder soft friends on to Peter.

"The wha'?" Peter said and opened their eyes with great effort.

"The Avengers. But! They're tsum tsums!" Wade explained cheerfully.

"Noooooo," Peter moaned as they stared at the teeny tiny log-like plush imitation of Captain America that was closest on their chest. "This is sooo cuuuuuute."

Wade helpfully tried to arrange the tsum tsums so that Peter could see them all.

"I'm going to cry." Peter said reverently as Wade placed the teeny weeny Black Widow and the teeny tiny Hawkeye together because they're best buds.

Peter threw back their head and let out a violent sneeze all over the Iron Man tsum tsum.

"These are just the original set, but there's an Avengers Two set that's coming out soon." Wade informed Peter pleasantly. "And then so you can have like the Falcon and the Scarlet Witch too and stuff."

"I'm so happy." Peter said, and they rubbed their cheek against the soft, soft material of the plush Hulk tsum tsum. "So happy."

"Good because you look like a steaming pile of fresh shit." Wade said bluntly.

"When are they making a Deadpool tsum tsum?" Peter asked, blinking up at him blearily.

Wade paused. "Um. Oh. Uh. I don't know if..."

"They should!" Peter said. "Then I'd have all my super-friends." They made a face. "Ugh, I still need Johnny. Do you think Johnny has a tsum tsum?"

Wade let out a dismissive, "Pfffff. That chump? No way!"

Peter nodded, satisfied.

"I'm gonna be in the living room." Wade said and jerked his thumb toward the doorway. "Just - call if you need me, babe."

"Yeah." Peter agreed, and they meant it.

"I'm glad you like the tsum tsums, Peter." Wade said, almost an after thought. "They're pure friends."

"You're a pure friend." Peter shot back, voice sincere.

Wade blinked.

"Okay." He said at last. "Ditto. Now you get some rest."