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A rough-skinned but gentle hand on Peter's cheek woke him from a light sleep. He smiled and slowly opened one eye, finding an answering smile on his boyfriend's face. Peter's smile faded when he noticed something else.
He's gorgeous.
AND THE FIRST THING HE SEES IS YOUR PIZZA FACE.
For shame, Wilson.
Peter sat up, eyes wide as he read... Wade's boxes. Seeing them in real life didn't prove anything to him--he never doubted their existence. But he could kind of feel his sanity sliding a bit left of center.
"What's wrong, baby boy?" Wade asked, sitting up as well and reaching for Peter's hand.
YOU THINK HE WANTS TO TOUCH YOU?
After that box popped into existence, Wade dropped his hand to the sheets a few inches from Peter's own. "Not feeling well?"
"I think... something's wrong." Peter shifted backward a bit, noticing how the first two boxes he saw were mostly transparent and the most recent two sat solid and bright to either side of Wade's head. A new one popped up as he moved.
Christ, cover your fucking face. He looks scared to death.
Wade lowered his eyes from Peter's, worried expression turning embarrassed. "Sorry, Petey, didn't realize it was so bad this morning. I think I left the mask in the bathroom--"
"No!" Peter practically shouted, grabbing Wade's hand to keep him in bed. "Honey, no, you look fine. I'm just... do your boxes always talk to you like that?" Wade quickly turned back to him, eyes wide, mouth partway open.
WHAT. THE. SHIT.
"What the shit," Wade repeated. "You can see them!? I know I told you my dick would drive you crazy but I didn't think it'd be literal!"
Dick too bomb.
Peter shrugged. "I mean, it is, but I don't think that's what happened." The white box flickered a little, as if it was in shock Peter was addressing it directly. "No, it's something else."
IF WE FUCKED IT INTO HIM, MAYBE WE CAN FUCK IT OUT OF HIM?
"He just fucking said that wasn't it!" Wade said, lifting his free hand to cover his eyes. Peter took that opportunity to reach out and grab at the yellow box, but his hand went right through. Instead of disappearing and reappearing with new text, the message inside of it changed.
YOU CAN LOOK BUT YOU CAN'T TOUCH, PRETTY BOY.
Wade groaned, looking up again. "I know what happened," he said sullenly.
"What is it? Was it Mysterio?"
"Worse." Wade turned away from Peter, toward the far corner of the room. When Peter looked, he couldn't see anything... but up until that morning, he couldn't see the boxes either. "Hey fuckface, why are you wasting time on coding? Don't you have homework to do?"
"Yes," I said, but Peter didn't hear that. "Who are you talking to?" he asked over me.
Not us.
YOU THINK THIS SHIT IS DRIVING US MORE CRAZY?
Wade did the "I'm watching you" gesture at the corner, and then looked back at Peter, who was still waiting for an answer. "Listen, baby boy. I'm sure this shit'll stop in a few minutes."
Coding is hard.
"It's ass-early in the morning and it's Saturday. Let's fool around a little, go back to sleep, and start over in a few hours," Wade continued like his boxes weren't there.
Peter nodded slowly, and then the rest of Wade's suggestion caught up with him and he grinned. "'Fool around'? The fifties is calling."
FUCKING SICK BURN.
True to Wade's word, when Peter woke up for the second time that morning several hours later, all he saw was Wade. The mercenary studied him solemnly for a moment before grinning. "Good. Only room for one crazy in this relationship," he said.
Peter snorted and moved as close to Wade as physically possible, smiling into their kiss. He couldn't say he would miss the boxes, but seeing a bit of how Wade's mind worked in person was so intimate he would probably be spoiling Wade for the next month.