Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter Parker wasn't exactly ashamed of being an omega.

Sure, he hid his status like the plague- masking his scent with an artificial beta spray, using heat suppressants at any given chance, only going off them when it was guaranteed he had a free weekend to spare, and wearing clothes that highlighted his un-omega-like toned arms when he was feeling particularly insecure about it- but it wasn't out of fear of being seen as such.

But if you needed a picture painted of why he chose to hide his biological assignment in lieu of presenting himself as neutral, the one word he could begin to create it with was ‘Alphas’.

Alphas secreted dominance with them wherever they went, leaving their cocky, charismatic scent all over public spaces. School was no different. From the days of 7th grade and up, when puberty started hitting Peter's classmates and kids were presenting left and right, the alphas took total control of the hallways. Big man Flash was the first to show clear signs of an alpha, and the rest of his crew of alphas and wannabee-betas fell right in line behind him.

With the rise of Alpha-Beta and Beta-Beta relationships being accepted in society, omegas were far and few. Male omegas were even rarer, making up just 25% of the omega population. History taught the extremely fertile gender was previously discriminated against harshly by those that believed them to be nothing more than baby-making machines, and nearly eradicated, as only Alpha-Omega relationships could produce omegas. However,as the omega population went down, closely followed by birth rates, everyone had begun to realize the necessary role omegas played in re-population. As such, omegas were presently celebrated and respected; lusted after and worshiped by alphas and betas alike.

But that was mostly in their later years. Before alphas started to develop their sexual drive, they reveled in the chance to show their power over others, and omega girls tended to be their target. Peter saw kids shoved into lockers, thrown in trash cans, and pushed around on a daily basis. He’d only known 2 omega boys in his life, and the teasing had gotten so severe they eventually moved to homeschooling. Luckily, he hadn't presented, and when he reached 14, he was officially declared as a beta by the school nurse, giving him a pass to fly under the bully's radars at least a tiny bit more effectively.

Unfortunately, being born as the child of a purebred omega and a groomed Alpha such as Mary and Richard left you more susceptible to presenting than other children.

So when Peter awoke when he was 17, a few years after he'd taken on the Spider-Man persona and met Mr Stark, sweating and clawing at his clammy skin mid-heat, he knew the universe was doing whatever it could to fuck him over.

Besides just school bullies being an issue when it came to his identity, another major reason he had to conceal any evidence of his omega status was the fact that he was Spider-Man. Not only would he most definitely be looked down on by his enemies or perceived as weak, but with the Avengers hardly taking him seriously as it is, and police on high alert searching for an alpha with superhuman strength, he didn't want to risk losing any more respect from the public. He wasn't totally popular at the moment. Besides, being known as an omega, especially a male omega, publicly would narrow down the search quite a bit. What was he, one of 20,000 in all of New York City?

Luckily, he'd been pretty successful in hiding it so far, even on days such as today when he was on the week of his heat and could feel the hormone changes already.

There was some big-name-but-secretly-evil private investor from some big-name-but-sketchy company that had been quietly investing in illegal technology on the terrorist level, or at least that's what Peter had gathered so far. He always did have some trouble figuring out what Coulson was actually saying, especially when he was distracted by...everything. Particularly a shiny--

"And we can count on you for that, right, Spider-Man?"

Oh yeah. That was him.

"What? Yeah, yeah, of course." Peter flashed his biggest grin to show he had definitely been listening and not spacing out like the 20 year old he was, but Coulson obviously couldn't see it through the spandex of his mask.

All intimidating and slightly patronizing pairs of eyes turned back to stare at him, and he felt himself melting into his seat in guilt.

Coulson drew a long sigh, rubbed his temple, then turned back to the map projected on the screen.

"So, to repeat for Spider-Man, this point of investigation on the building will be a stealth mission. We'll send Natasha and Steve to the ground floor to  take out the heaviest of the security, and once they take notice of you, Spider-Man should have plenty of time to access the elevator shaft and descend to the bottom floor unnoticed. Once you're there, you need to find a way to get Tony in so he can disable the bombs placed on each level. That way, our agents can effectively infiltrate the premise with as little resistance as possible, end the weapons trade in Cabo, and place as many of the workers under arrest as we can.”

Now Peter was a little confused, mostly by how he had spaced out all the way from the Russia plans to Mexico, but he was at least a little too proud to raise his hand and ask.

“We already have your escort ready for your portion of the mission, Spider-Man, so don’t worry about that piece. We’ve already made contact and he shall be there tomorrow when you depart.”

“I need an escort?” Peter earned an intense frown for his comment, and he shut himself up right away. “I mean, yeah. A-Okay with Me.”

“Intelligence gathering will begin tomorrow. Meet here at 4 for your flight. Yes, Clint, 4 in the morning. Don’t be late, and don’t forget to bring any supplies you may need for a mission that may take up to two weeks. The majority of your time in Russia will be spent on hold as back-up, in case something goes awry, until we make our move on their transportation facility once we’ve acquired enough data. Keep that in mind when packing. ” With that, Coulson officially ended the meeting and began to gather up what he had brought over. Peter was happy to escape, until he realized what exactly Coulson had said. Two weeks? No, there was no way he could be gone that long. His heat was due sometime around Friday, maybe Monday at latest. Tomorrow, Tuesday, at earliest. He couldn’t go on a trip with the Avengers when it was so close. That would be a story he would never live down.

“Yo, hey, Mr. Stark.”

“Kid.”

Peter side-stepped Captain America as he shuffled past, ending up in front of the man who had brought him into this line of business in the first place. He wasn't aware of Peter's omega status. Mr Stark hardly trusted him enough to allow him to be an Avenger in the first place, so Peter had hacked into Karen's programming with Ned's help to keep her from relaying omega-related health information to anyone else but himself. "Hey, uh, he said this mission was going on for 2 weeks?”

“Yep.” Mr Stark answered as he shoved his expensive tablet into its case, depositing it in his bag. “Homework standing in your way?”

“No, no, that’d be totally uncool.” Peter mentally crossed that off his list of excuses he had prepared. “I just don’t know if I can like...keep my cover that long. I have a lot of people that expect to see me every day. I don’t think the flu will work again.”

“Then use the Stark Internship papers I signed.” Mr Stark sighed thickly, turning to face Peter with an impatient expression. Peter internally cringed, able to see the extra stress he’d been under reflected on his face. He was five seconds from being scolded. He could feel it like a truck about to run him over. “Tell them you’re going on a school trip. Use my card and book hotels for proof. Figure it out. You’ve known since yesterday it was this long.”

“I...you’re right.” Peter relented. Guess there was no helping it, then. He’d just have to make sure to make the mission went by fast. And bring as many heat suppressants as possible, no matter how ineffective they were on him. “Sorry. I’ll get it sorted.”

“Good. This is your chance to prove we can trust you as a part of this team.” Mr Stark continued, walking past Peter and towards the door. Peter kept up with him easily, shadowing him through the hallways of the tower. “You’re young, and that’s kept SHIELD off your back for years. Don’t let this mission be the reason you have to give up everything you’ve worked towards.”

“It’s that important?”

“It’s that important.” Mr Stark repeated back.

Peter hadn’t even begun to consider this may be some sort of test to allow him to continue to operate in New York without proper jurisdiction. However, that made sense. Why else would an entire important section of the mission be dedicated to him? Or at least he assumed it was important. He wasn’t paying attention during the rest to find out what anyone else was doing. In fact, what was the goal of their mission again-- ?

Mr Stark’s shoulder came up close to Peter’s face too fast,and he realized too late he had stopped walking. He barely managed to catch himself before he rammed into the taller man from behind, taking an uncomfortable step back. Mr Stark turned to face him with a suspicious expression, slight worry maybe-possibly mixed in there somewhere. “You’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

Peter swallowed. Pre-heat brain. But he couldn’t say that. “I guess so? It’s probably just because I’m around all of you guys and-”

“Cut the crap. What’s up? Why are you so determined not to go?” Mr Stark eyed him, as if he could see through his facade if he stared long enough. “Are you hurt?”

“What? No, I’m fine. Totally good.” Peter insisted, only realizing his missed opportunity once it was too late. “I think I’m just tired. I’ll make sure not to stay out too late tonight for patrol.”

“Maybe stay home and sleep the entire night. I’m sure New York will survive for a night.” Mr Stark still didn’t look like he believed him, and Peter almost preferred being ignored.

“I’ll think about it.” Peter agreed, though there was no way that was going to happen when he was already going to be gone for an extensive period of time. “Anyways, thanks for the talk. I should really get working on my excuses and alibis and stuff.”

“Right. Try to take it easy.”

“Will do.”

Peter peeled out of the conversation before Mr Stark could press it any further. He sprinted through the hallways of Stark Towers, pushing on each window until he found the one that was actually able to be opened at this height, indicated by a small rush of wind detectable only to his sensitive ears. His gloved hands pressed lightly on the surface, letting the glass pane swing out after some resistance. Peter crawled up onto the sill, his path home highlighted between the numerous skyscrapers littered along the streets. The cars honking below gave a rise to his adrenaline, and then he was falling, leaping from the building to give himself enough distance not to hit the wall, but free-falling like a bullet through the wind. 10 stories or so down he finally caught his fall, webs shooting out from both wrists with a distinct thwip . His arms jolted at the end of his dissent, before he was soaring again through the air, waiting until the last second possible before he would let another strand sail out and grip onto a pole or a ledge. All the while, calculations of heat suppressants and calendar days ate through his brain. He was sure this mission was just going to last a couple days, and the 2 weeks warning was just precautionary. They’d be in and out within a few days, and he’d be home and in bed by Saturday at the latest. They were the Avengers! It didn’t take that long for these kinds of things.

Probably.

"Hey Karen?" 

"Yes, Peter?"

"Falsify a good health report if Mr Stark tries to check on me. Also, can you tell me how much is in my bank account? Suppressants are pretty expensive." 

"Of Course, Peter." Karen responded, making Peter smile as he felt slightly less alone. "I believe you have about 3 doses remaining at home, and can afford a pack of 12 from the budget pharmacy in Northwest Queens." 

Shit. "Thanks, Karen." Peter would just have to make do somehow. 

--

Peter was not awake, by any means, the next morning.

He had followed Mr Stark’s advice and passed out before midnight. However, that still meant he only got a few hours in before he had to be up and packed by 3. He shoved a few days of civvies into a bag, rolled up tightly to conserve space, basic toiletries and underwear, and of course packed the rest of the space with necessary tools in case he got unlucky enough to end up in heat; a week’s worth of heat suppressants (enough for a normal metabolism to last a month, but he was unlucky enough to burn through a day’s worth in a few hours), 2 bottles of faux scent to mask his, and anti-anxiety medication to take the edge off if he was in a difficult spot. With that, he snuck a quiet breakfast and left Aunt May a note, before taking off with toast in his mouth towards the hangar he was told to meet in.

Peter was surprised to find himself to be the only one in full uniform. Mr Stark had his suitcase in hand but had made no attempt to wear it even partway, Steve had on sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, in similar style to Sam, though his wing containment unit was in his arms, Clint hadn’t even changed out of his pajamas, but he did wear his bow over his back, and Natasha was in her bodysuit without any of her normal accessories layered on. They were still waiting for Peter’s supposed stealth mission escort, as well as Scott Lang, but otherwise Peter felt quite out of place.

“Don’t tell me you’re a morning person, too.” Clint walked in front of Peter, eyeing his suit with a yawn that made him look half-asleep still. “Sam and Steve exhaust me even thinking about waking up this early. I can’t be the only one thinking this is ungodly torture.”

“I’m running on pure adrenaline right now. I only got a nap in last night.” Peter admitted in a low voice, stretching to work the soreness out of his muscles. Usually he could sleep in short spurts and still have some energy for the day. Today, however, his body decided to try to shut down every 5 minutes and force him into a coma. “Honestly, I hope this plane ride is long enough to get a couple extra hours in-”

“I KNEW OUR LOVE WOULD PREVAIL.”

“Oh no.” Peter blanched, and didn’t even dare turn around. “Please tell me it’s not who I think it is.”

“No one told you?” Clint tsked, giving Peter a pitying look. “Yeah, sorry. He’s the only one we felt complimented your skills enough to be your escort.”

“Spidey, we’re finally official teammates! Or I guess I’m more like your babysitter. That just takes all the sex-appeal  out of it. Ooh, wait. I’ll be the professor, and you can be my favorite student I give after school lessons to.”

“Please tell me this is a joke.” Peter swallowed hard, able to smell the alpha behind him from where he stood. Apparently he was the only one that noticed how intense of a scent the man carried with him, as no one else seemed as repulsed by the air.

“Sorry, dude. Can’t always get what you want.” Clint threw Peter a grin that was so smug he wanted to wipe it off his face. However, he made a mental note not to try to attack any of his teammates no matter the situation, and turned to face his battle head-on. Clint passed by the red-clad newcomer with a short, but crisp, high five, and gave the spider one last wiggle of his fingers. What a jerk.

“Heeeey, Deadpool.”

“I thought they were kidding when they said you were on this mission.” The mercenary - or ‘in the process of retiring from murder’ mercenary- crossed the distance on the roof, standing inches above Peter. He wasn’t intimidating, however. More like… a giant, annoying man-child.

Who Peter also happened to be sort of really good friends with. Like, to the point they played video games maskless at Wade’s Manhattan safe house and split pizzas when on patrol. And Deadpool knew his name and face. And Peter kind of had a big, fat, stupid crush on Deadpool. But he wasn't Peter's first pick to accompany him on a mission Peter was trying to prove that he was mature enough to be on. 

“Ouch.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with you, Pumpkin. But you gotta admit, if I get asked to join in on missions before you, something seriously needs to change about your job performance.”

“Pretty sure they only brought you along as a bullet shield. So you could distract the bad guys with your giant mouth.” Peter shot back, though all in good humor.

Wade made a dramatic gasp, one gloved hand shooting up to cover his lips in true theatrical fashion. “I guess it’s good my kink is getting used.”

“That’s...A weird kink to have.”

“Does it turn you on?”

“Not at all.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“Hey, Tweedledee and Tweedledum.” Mr Stark’s voice sounded behind Peter, jarring them both from their banter. “Get ready to board.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Wade saluted in response, then glanced back down at Peter. “You’re sitting by me, right?”

“Definitely not.”

“Awww, Spidey!”

“Let’s go.”  Natasha ordered, her head peeking out from the corner of the craft.

Wade threw out his hand with a gentlemanly “after you.” Peter, unable to resist a moment of humor and making Wade laugh, half-courtesy’d in return and made his way towards the short ladder leading into the plane.

The inside of an Avenger’s aircraft wasn’t anything like Peter had pictured. Being sponsored by a billionaire apparently didn’t reap the benefits of travelling in style; rather than being filled with alien tech, or super advanced spy technology, or even genuine leather seats, the inside of the plane was rather bland. It featured a cockpit illuminated with buttons and levers that Peter hadn’t the slightest clue their true intention, only slight privacy given to the designated pilots at the front. Behind that rested a computer Peter had to resist the urge not to immediately ask to study, as well as spaces in the sides for weapons and storage. The seats were spaced so that there were 8 passenger seats, stretching along the length of the plane. Peter situated himself in the back, close to the hatch they used for for entering. Somehow, having an escape route made him feel more secure than the claustrophobia he would feel trapped between two well-respected heroes. Or maybe he was just self conscious. Either way, he sat himself down as far from the others as he could get, and shoved his backpack in his lap.

Wade decided to take the spot right next to him, despite 3 other seats remaining open, and Natasha -looking as judgemental as ever- took the space across.

“The Itsy Bitsy Spider ran up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out!” Wade apparently became quite the comedian under pressure, pulling out his katana Bea - or maybe it was Arthur- to start sharpening the length. Both the spider-themed heroes gave him an irritated look, Peter a bit more disbelieving he would bother one of the scariest members of the team, before Natasha cleared her throat.

“I’m sure I could find a way to make sure you don’t come back from death, if you keep this up the entire ride there.” The ginger commented dryly, crossing her legs in a way that Peter felt he was a second away from witnessing Wade’s true demise

“That would be my lucky day, cupcake.” Wade grinned back, sliding his katana back into its holster. Despite his cool exterior, Peter knew he thought Natasha was hot shit that could beat him to a pulp. “I’m quaking in my suit. I don’t know if I’m scared, or excited, but probably both.”

Scott swiveled in the chair placed just in front of the computer he had claimed, the metal loudly squeaking to catch their attention. “I am not dealing with you two arguing for 12 hours.”

“15 hours.” Bruce mumbled, though he remained primarily focused on a notebook filled to the brim with incoherent scribbles.

“I am not listening to you arguing for 15 hours!” Scott corrected, folding his arms in a fatherly fashion.

“I don’t even remember you being invited, LadybugBoy.” Natasha’s subtle but annoyed comment instantly sent Wade into a fit of laughter, jolting her from her anger. The change of Wade’s attitude was just enough for her to relinquish her dangerous atmosphere for a moment, and she settled calmly back in her seat.

“It’s Ant-Man.” Scott mumbled indignantly, which only served to make Wade laugh harder. The ex-convict turned back to his computer to rest his head, and for once in his life Peter saw Natasha crack an expression similar to a grin.

The conversation seemed to settle their nerves, as well as at the 4 AM call time, because the Avengers grew completely silent within the hour. Clint dozed off first, followed by Bruce (after he injected himself with some tranquilizer he often kept with him), and Natasha dropped into some weird relaxation that was close to sleep, with her body still tensed and at the ready to fight at any time. Scott was still sulking by the time Peter felt himself start to fall asleep, a yawn being the first sign of his body begging for a nap. Wade seemed to notice immediately despite the mask, because a gloved leather hand wormed its way to the top of Peter’s head to try to pull him in to his shoulder. Peter didn’t budge, giving Wade a deadpanned look. “Dude.”

“What?” Wade asked innocently, his arm retreating back to his side.

“I’m not sleeping on you.”

“I am the best goddamn pillow you will ever use.”

“We’re on a plane with the Avengers.” Peter said in an awkward whisper as if it wasn’t obvious, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“You don’t have to be shy about our secret relationship, Spidey. I’ve already told everyone you’re my lo--”

“Friend.” Peter cut in, groaning and sitting back in his chair with a huff. He had to admit, the seats weren’t very comfortable, and his stomach was tight with anxiety. Talking with Deadpool was easing at least a little bit of the pressure.

“Friend with benefits. Just as exciting without the emotional attachment. I like your style.” Peter didn’t really have the energy to argue against Wade’s ramblings, so he just let his eyes slip shut and tried to focus on staying awake, figuring he could just rest his eyes for a few minutes. Eventually his body grew numb enough he was a little more comfortable, and the rest was doing wonders for his scattered brain and anxiety.

His eyes shot open again when they hit turbulence, and he realized he had been passed out for an extensive period of time. Long enough that nearly everyone was asleep, including Wade, who was passed out on Peter’s arm. Peter stared at him for a few minutes, trying to decide whether to push him away and save himself the embarrassment of anyone seeing, or let him continue to slumber to make up for the nights he’d let Peter stay over on his couch and eat his fridge dry.

He ended up choosing the latter after an extensive internal debate, though most of it was because his arm was completely asleep under the weight of his large head and leather mask, and he didn’t have the strength in it to push him away. It worked out fine in the end, once Peter had grown tired enough to fall back into sleep, when Wade’s head created a hard pillow for him to drop his cheek on. And that was how they spent their flight, until Wade roused and immediately started teasing Peter for falling asleep on him, to the point he got up and changed seats out of annoyance.

There was a reason Peter had said no to sitting by Wade. He was an asshole. Comfortable, but still an asshole.

Chapter Text

The hotel room they holed up in once they arrived in Russia was…to put it lightly, complete shit.

It made sense to send Peter, a young adult clearly not from the area, and Wade, a man with a very distinct appearance that could easily be used to identify him, to a location that would be lucky to have a working security camera. That didn’t mean Peter still wasn’t grossed out by the dusty front desk, or the rat he saw running around when he first entered the makeshift lobby. The process of checking in under fake names and swiping the card allocated by SHIELD seemed to stretch on forever.

Wade was conversing with the woman at the front desk in Russian that sounded fluent to his untrained ears, so Peter couldn’t follow along. He busied himself with drawing patterns into the floor, mimicking the path he would have to take in a few days time through the super-secret building no one would tell him anything about. He had more questions, wanting to make up for the time he was spacing it during the meeting, but only he and Wade were at this particular location over the next few nights.

Natasha had taken Clint and Bruce with her to stay with a trusted individual somewhere in the city. Mr Stark, Sam, and Steve were at a SHIELD location too classified for even Spider-Man and Deadpool to know about. Scott had apparently been sent to another run-down hotel. While his role in this portion of the mission was vital, he was being put on reserve until further notice. Peter was offered a spot with Natasha at the home, but it would have been too difficult to keep his identity under wraps, so he instead opted to stay in the same hotel as Wade- Which may or may not have been a mistake.

Eventually, the receptionist forked over two room keys, pointing off down the hall and relaying two numbers in Russian. Wade passed them to Peter, who flashed a polite smile, and started down the hall with their backpacks slung tightly. They searched the doors until they found 118 and 119, pausing just outside.

Wade fumbled with the cards, sticking one in each hand at random, and shoved his arms behind his back. “Pick one.” He teased, a surgical mask drawn up over his lips and his hoodie pulled tightly around his face. Peter had, of course, seen his skin over the 4 years they had known one another, but the mercenary was still sore about his appearance and preferred just to keep it concealed.

“I want this one.” Peter placed his palm against room 118, 119 having a suspicious red stain drawn over the carpet that looked like there had been attempts at shampooing it out for years. “Which arm is that?”

“Don’t take the fun out.” Wade whined.

Peter let out a groan and tapped Wade’s left arm. He produced both arms and opened his palms. Inside his left hand was the key to 119.  

“Sorry, baby boy. Better luck next ti-”

Peter swiped the key to 118 from his right hand and scanned it. The door clicked open, and Peter pushed it open with a smug grin.

Wade stood dumbfounded, watching the events unfold as if the devious younger man had stolen his first born. Finally he shut his mouth and straightened up, sliding his own card to gain access to his room. “I guess some people really do get everything they want. Just know, if I find bed bugs, I’m sleeping in your bed.”

“It can’t be any worse than your pigsty back in New York.”

“Hey! My pigsty has class.”

“Goodnight, Deadpool.”

Wade looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it and disappeared into his room. Peter quietly locked himself in his own, turning to face the small space he would call his for the next few nights, or however long this piece of intel gathering took. It was small, as he expected, barely the size of his bedroom back in his own apartment. There was a queen-sized bed stuck in the center of the room and a small, ancient television placed opposite on a dresser. The bathroom was mostly made up of a square shower and a toilet spanning on one wall, the toilet continuously running silently. It wasn’t terribly dirty, at least, as Mr Stark had been sure to book them the most expensive rooms, and paid extra to assure they got fresh sheets.

Peter wasn’t feeling the best, likely just plagued by nausea after the bumpy plane ride over, and he was more than ready to crawl into bed and catch up on the sleep he had missed.  It was somewhere around 3 or 4 AM here, which meant it was still dark outside for another hour or so. So the web-slinger pulled off his civilians, then his suit layered on underneath, and set them all in a neat pile in one of the dresser drawers. He didn’t remove his web-shooters, just in case, and pulled on the single pair of pajamas he had brought, before crawling under the covers that were way too light for the October morning. He soon found a comfortable sleeping position and closed his eyes. Anxiety over their crunched deadline was still bruising his brain,but he didn’t want to agonize about it now. All he could trust was that the skill of the group would make up for the difficulty of the mission, and they’d be in and out by the weekend.

*

Peter awoke shivering.

At first, in his dreary mind, he assumed it was due to the cold and wrapped himself tighter in the blankets to try to calm his tensing muscles.It took all of 10 seconds to realize he was instead overheating under the poor excuse of a comforter, the scratchy material making him increasingly uncomfortable. He opened his eyes to the sunlight filtering in through the curtains, temporarily blinding him.

The world seemed too bright, and Peter's skin felt clammy under his clothing. He forced his eyelids shut again to try to fall back asleep, his dreams seeming a lot more comfortable than the present. Minutes passed, and Peter was unable to slip back into slumber, but rather was noticing just how… unbearable the world was beginning to feel. His stomach hurt, feeling like he got punched in the gut and his organs rearranged, leaving an empty hole in the center of his abdomen. His senses, which were usually dialed up to 150%, now felt closer to 300%. Everything felt way too loud, from the birds chirping outside his window to the baby crying down the hall.

The baby’s cries made Peter’s stomach tightened, and he noted, with sudden panic, that moisture had begun to form between his legs.

“Oh shit. ” Peter started out of bed, now acutely aware of the fact that his temperature was burning. His voice was breathy, the foundation of his vocal chords tighter than usual. “Shit shit, shit. Not now! It’s the first day!”

The poor young man tumbled from the bed, his feet caught in the sheets, as he stifled a cry of surprise when he hit the floor. He crawled the remaining distance to his backpack and tore it open. It was only Wednesday. His heat was almost always on time. Why did it come so early?

But then he smelled it- The alpha pheromones radiating from the room over. They were much easier to pinpoint now, stronger than they had been just the day before. Wade had pushed his body into heat, and Peter simultaneously wanted to beg for his attention and beat the shit out of him for it.

He realized he was spacing when another wave of heat started to wash over him, making him moan under his breath, jarring him from his thoughts. Peter ripped his clothes out and scattered them on the floor, locating his box of syringes and his vial of heat suppressants. He fiddled with the needles and tubes for a few minutes, his trembling hands making this task quite a bit more difficult, until he finally got the correct dosage and sunk the needle shaft into his thigh. Pressing on the plunger sent a cold liquid into his muscle, and once the barrel was empty he let the used syringe fall to the floor. Gradually, his muscles began to relax, and he could feel his breathing returning to normal.

It was fortunate that he had woken up just before his heat had entered full swing, but he couldn’t deny the entire room stunk of omega now. Peter managed to find his scent blockers and doused his fingers in the murky ointment, rubbing a generous amount over the scent glands under his ears. With the area now smelling a lot less like a panicked omega in heat, he set to work on  deodorizing the room. He cracked the window to air out the space, but kept the curtains drawn, to make his exact location unidentifiable if the wind didn’t carry his smell far enough. The sheets were pulled from the bed and thrown into the shower, doused with enough water that the slick left on them wouldn’t be terribly obvious. Next went his pajamas bottoms, but he kept the shirt and tucked it back in his bag. Somehow he was working diligently, while he was still recovering from the condition he was in not 10 minutes before.

Even so, Peter’s mind was definitely preoccupied on another issue.

It was day 2 of their 5-14 day mission. He had packed enough heat suppressants to last him a week, but using them any longer than 3 days was considered dangerous. Not only that, but the longer he put off his heat, the harder it would hit when he let it come. He needed to find a length of time he was guaranteed to be away from the group, to ride it out, but finding an alpha to shorten it was completely out of the question.

He could possibly tell Mr. Stark to see if he could be temporarily sent home...but the risk of his identity being found out was too high, and he would likely be scolded for not being honest in the first place- Maybe even kicked off the Avengers for good. Dealing with health issues seemed like the most sound possibility.

For now, Peter just needed to get replacement sheets and ask the hotel staff if they had a spare candle he could borrow. Checking his clock, he’d only been asleep for 2 hours, which meant Wade might still be passed out. He prayed for that fact as he gathered up his sopping sheets and carried them down the grimy hall towards the lobby.

The receptionist was less than happy to see he had soiled them this quickly, the housekeeper even more annoyed looking, though they quickly changed their tune when Peter promised to leave a hefty tip if they kept the charge for new sheets off their bill and kept a clean supply for him throughout their stay. He left with a greyed out flat sheet and a topper with holes, but it was better than a slick-stained set, so he gratefully spread them out over his mattress and lit the candle on the dresser. Now calmer, he eventually managed to crawl back in the bed and attempt to get an extra few hours of rest, wanting to be ready at any moment whenever they needed him again. It took almost no time at all for his sleep-deprived form to pass out again, lulled into a much more restful dream now that his heat symptoms had been dealt with for the time being.

*

7 PM. It was 7 PM according to the clock plastered on the wall, they had already been in Russia for 17 hours, and Peter still hadn’t gotten a text back from Mr Stark or Steve on his burner phone. He wouldn’t have been so inherently frustrated by the radio silence if he was even sort of updated on plan, or if they were still mid mission. However, it was already growing dark outside, and Peter had been sitting tensely in wait for them to call on his help. The hotel room that was supposed to feel like a mini-vacation had started to seem more like a prison. The only plus side was that Peter had powered his way through one essay and two written assignments, leaving him with book readings that were too difficult to focus on when he was so anxious.

So he busied himself mindlessly watching some Russian soap opera on the poor quality TV, checking his texts every 2 minutes to be sure he didn’t miss any sort of an update. Still nothing, he determined as he flipped open the lid of his cheap pay-as-you-go cell.

Did they actually need him at all?

He was reeled from his thoughts by an insistent knocking- or rather, banging seemed to fit the sound better- obnoxiously from his door. Peter knew who it was before he had even made it halfway to the door, the thin walls giving him full access to unintelligible chattering transpiring from the mercenary’s conversation with himself. According to what Wade had told him in a fit of honesty, they were two voices he could hear clear as day, one a more honest version of himself, and one completely belonging to some ‘mad’ guy. Peter didn’t really understand it, but he had learned not to question matters that related to Wade unless it was required.

Peter clicking the deadbolt prompted a ‘ shuddup’ from the hallway, and then he opened the door to see Wade clad in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts that covered way too little for the season. Peter drew his eyes slowly down the line of his body, and then back up to his grinning face half-hidden by a large-brimmed hat, looking unimpressed. “Festive.”

“I may have only heard the part about ‘vacationing’ and ‘Los Cabos.’” Wade returned with the same dumb expression trapped on his lips. “ Vamos a desnudarnos y tumbarnos en la arena. ”

“I don’t think they even said anything about vacationing.” Peter couldn’t help the smile working itself onto his face, trying his hardest to stay sullen but not doing a very good job at it. He ignored his dirty comment, leaning cooly up against the door frame. “So? What’s up? Why’d you come bother me?”

“I don’t know about you, sweetums, but I am absolutely starving. And I know you can out-eat me by a mile, so there’s no way you’re not going crazy with hunger cramps by now. Let’s go get food.”

The mention of cramps made Peter wince in memory that his heat was impending and he’d have to give himself another dose of suppressants in… about 6 hours, due to his quick metabolism, though it was perfectly timed with his stomach growling in response to the thought of food. He hadn’t eaten in almost a day, and it was definitely taking a toll on his body. Wade snickered triumphantly at Peter’s involuntary reaction, making heat crawl up his neck. “I guess I’m a little hungry.” He mumbled, shifting awkwardly on the balls of his feet. “I didn’t bring any money, though.”

“Lucky for you, Iron Dick gave me a wad of cash before we got off the plane.” Wade waved around an envelope presumably of Russian currency, as if they weren’t probably surrounded by criminals in other rooms keeping their heads low. “We passed by a cafe on the way in to the hotel, and I’m really craving some blinis right now. So hurry that tight ass up and grab your jacket so we can go.”

Peter really had no choice in the matter, and he had been desperately wanting to get out of the hotel room that had begun feeling way too cramped anyways. He hummed a resolved ‘mmkay’ and shut the door on Wade to give him the chance to get his stuff together. He also grabbed a jacket as suggested, not wanting to turn into a spider-sicle before he’d even gotten the chance to be a real part of the mission. He made sure to stuff an extra syringe in his pocket just in case, along with his burner phone on the off-chance someone decided to reply back, and shut his window tightly.

Most of the omega scent had been wafted out into the cold, and the candle had replaced it with a cheap smelling spice. Peter struggled not to remind himself of the fact he was going out with Wade, unmasked and vulnerable, before his anxiety could talk him into feeling awkward about the entire situation. He made his way back to the door, shut and locked it,and looked back up at Wade’s eager eyes. “So...what’s blini anyways?”

“Baby boy, I’m about to blow your mind wide open.”

Peter came to find out the town they were staying in was called Scherbinka, and it was a lot smaller than New York. About 266% smaller, if his math was right. The business fronts were colorful, compared to the overcast weather blanketing the night sky. Wade had noticed Peter was shaking through dinner- mostly due to the cold and somewhat due to his heat symptoms numbly pulsing through his body- and had blanketed him with his leather jacket that was twice his size. It hung loosely off his shoulders, but it kept him warm, especially on their walk back to the hotel.

“This city is kinda boring, huh?” Wade commented as he turned another alley, passing by rows of houses interrupted every so often by small businesses or motels. “They could have at least stuck us somewhere cooler. Like actually in Moscow? The escorts there are pretty cute.”

“You want to go to Moscow just for the hookers? Not the art or theatre?” Peter snorted, pulling the jacket just a little bit tighter around himself. The fall really had a bite to it, and the sun sinking behind the hills only accentuated the weather.

“Hey, sex work is a valid career, Pete. Back off, hater.” Wade stuck his hand obnoxiously in Peter’s face as he swatted it away, claiming his space again. “Anyways, I’ve been to Moscow for jobs like 6 times. I could give you a pretty good tour of the city; the good and the bad.”

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer some other time. If we went there now, you’d blow the whole thing.” Peter grinned, turning to look up at him.

“What do you mean? Also, don’t make me make a joke about blowing anything right now.” Wade gasped in dramatic hurt.

“You don’t exactly blend in.” Peter murmured, but he could see the edges of a disappointed frown dragging Wade’s lips down, and he self consciously pulled the brim of his large hat further down his face. “But that’s not a bad thing.” He rushed out, not wanting to give Wade the wrong idea. “Your tacky clothes and drama queen act fit you. You like being the center of attention.”

Wade instantly brightened, the hop returning to his step. “You got me there. That I do, sweetums, that I do.”  

They continued on their quiet walk through the suburbs, bumping into each other every so often with growing force to try to knock one another off the road. Peter couldn’t help his grin and a small laugh forcing its way up his throat when he nearly knocked Wade on his ass, but the man looked completely happy playing along.

“This is nice.” Wade blurted out suddenly, drawing Peter’s attention up to him.

“What?” Peter asked through his breathy snickering, watching Wade fix his shirt that had been coated with dust.

“Hanging out. With you.” Wade murmured, stretching and bringing his arms up above his head as his muscles pulsed. The action had Peter feeling like he was staring too long, so he forced his face forward and added a bit more focus in his steps. “Don’t get me wrong, angel, I love any time I get to bring you back to my apartment, but you only chill with me because of our other halves. It’s cool that we can just get dinner together, y’know? Nothing hanging over our heads or some evil mutant dude about to bust down the Empire State Building so you have to run off. Just two gal pals.”

“I never really thought about that.” Peter frowned, his eyebrows knitting in concentration. Now that Wade had mentioned it, they didn’t typically spend a whole lot of time together outside of ‘work.’ “I guess I just always considered us friends either way. You definitely bother me over text enough.”

Wade didn’t respond, and when Peter curiously glanced up at his face he saw a weird expression in place. Maybe embarrassment? It was a funny look on the otherwise cocky man, but he didn’t comment.

They walked a bit longer in silence, the street lamps lighting up their dirt path home, gravel crunching under their shoes, the cold biting at Peter’s nose and ears and turning them red. He briefly wondered if Wade experienced the same sensations, or if his healing factor gave him infinite body heat, before he heard him cough at his side.

“Thanks.” He finally croaked out, and that ended their heart to heart for the night the rest of the way to the hotel.

Chapter Text

“So we’re just hanging around until you need us?” 

“Pretty much. Is that an issue?” 

“No, Mr. Stark.” Peter answered immediately, before the dejected tone in his voice could be called out. He glanced over at Wade, who was grinning mockingly at him. 

“ No, Mr. Stark .” Wade repeated in a whispered girlish tone, and Peter grabbed a pillow to launch at his face. It was a little harder than he intended, he could admit, especially when the impact caused Wade to go tumbling off the side of his bed. 

“Great. Things were a little difficult today with Romanoff and she had a close call when she was nearly discovered. Once we verify that our blueprints of the armory are correct, we’ll commence with our plans. Until then, we have to assure that we have no chance of alerting these guys to our presence. You two have a funny way of drawing attention to yourselves.” Mr Stark paused on the other end of the line, and his voice lowered suspiciously. “You haven’t done anything to make people notice you, have you?” 

“Uhhh…” Peter paused thoughtfully, scratching the side of his head. The bed shifted underneath him, Wade pathetically crawling back up onto the mattress like a wounded puppy. “I don’t think so. Besides like, the usual going out for food and stuff.” 

“Terrific. So you’re already pulling your weight. Sorry, kid, I know this probably sounded faster paced and more exciting at the meeting, but things sometimes have to take their time. SHIELD has been planning the dismantlement of these terrorists longer than you’ve been Spider-Man.” 

“It’s okay. Just happy to help.” 

“If babysitting Diaperpool gets too annoying, call me or Steve. We’ll send someone over to muzzle him until he’s needed.” 

“Wade’s been fine. Annoying, but fine.” Peter returned, snickering at Wade’s offended expression. 

“I gotta go before Barton and Romanoff decide to sneak off and mess with Coulson. Stay safe.” 

“Will do, Mr. Stark. Thanks.” 

Mr Stark hung up with a click, leaving Peter to stare at his burner with disappointment. He’d hoped things would maybe have progressed further, especially considering he was usually consistently busy in his daily life, and at the present moment, he was so insanely bored he almost wished he had a term paper due tomorrow. It wasn’t like they could go sight-seeing, either; the others had made it painfully clear that they were to stay put in the small city until someone came to collect them. 

He still had more pressing matters hanging over his head as well, and every hour he spent on suppressants he felt like he was going insane. 

Peter had taken his fourth dose of suppressants a few hours back, and he could already feel his body begging to be let off of them. His skin was hypersensitive, and even the brush of a blanket was enough to make him throw the entire comforter onto the floor. Wade had been his only distraction- his presence somehow endearing despite the fact his scent was overwhelming at times- but even witty banter wasn’t enough to keep his focus entirely off of the symptoms plaguing his system. He quietly turned his head towards the window, peering past sheer curtains to stare at the sky dripping with thick, grey clouds. The dreary town seemed just a bit heavier, especially with the trickling of rain pattering against the paths and pulling up dirt into the air. 

He just wanted to feel needed. Was that too much to ask? 

“Sooo, we’re sitting ducks?” Wade asked from behind Peter, and he felt Wade inching closer towards him. He shot a look back at the man, who retreated to instead stand a foot or so away. “Wanna go out?” 

“We’ve looked through the entire place twice. I don’t think we’re gonna find any new food places just because we walk around again.” Peter groaned. 

“No, no, no, I don’t mean here. We’re, what, 45 minutes out of Moscow? You’d love it there, Pete! I know you said some other time, but I can tell you’re going crazy here, and I’m supposed to be the only unstable one.” 

Peter sat without a word, waiting in amusement for him to say he was joking. The look of determination on Wade’s face made him realize he was dead serious. “Moscow? Just so we can mess everything up if someone recognizes you?” 

“Not the nice parts with cameras and mafias, obviously. The shitty parts is where you have all the fun. And anyone who recognizes me there probably paid me to kill their rich cousin at some point. We could find a party, or an orgy if that’s more your style. Oooo, you’ve never been to a party, have you? It’d be so fun!” Wade didn’t respect Peter’s wish for space this time, bounding directly onto the bed to sit inside his personal bubble. “Russian parties are the coolest, because there’s no rules and everyone here is fucking depressing. So they go hard to have a little bit of fun before drowning their sadness in vodka.” 

“I’m not going to a party. Or another city. I’m not leaving the hotel room. Mr. Stark would kill me.” Peter said in irritation, rolling off the bed to stand near the window. The breeze coming through reminded him of his pathetic blanket and uncomfortable bed he’d have to huddle for warmth again that night, as he grimaced. “This is my one chance to prove I can do things right.” 

“And you still will! Just after having a wild night.” 

Peter stared at him wordlessly. 

“Okay, a slightly crazy night that you don’t wake up too hungover from.” 

“Wade.” 

“Fine, fine, Pete, be a drag. But I’m getting on the next party train to Moscow with or without you. And I really hope it’s with you, because I need my arm candy to get into these things. Looking like a burn victim only gets me so far, honey buns.” Wade jumped off Peter’s bed, crossing towards the door. When he reached it, he threw a look back over his shoulder with the saddest puppy-dog look he could muster. “You can still go on this infiltration mission later. You’re travelling. I know you don’t usually have the money to do that. Why not enjoy it for one night? You deserve a reward for being a hero every once in a while.” 

Peter sucked in a breath, but didn’t comment. He didn’t deserve anything. He had the power to help people, so he was obligated to do whatever he could. 

But as Wade left, Peter could feel the comfort he’d had in his presence ebbing out of his body as well, being replaced by the tense achiness he’d been feeling for the past 2 days. Being left alone sounded like the last thing he wanted right now- even though it was usually how he preferred to spend days he didn’t feel so hot- and he wasn’t so sure Wade would even make it back to their motel in one piece if left alone to make bad decisions.

If Mr Stark were here, he would tell Peter not to listen to Wade and to stay put as he was instructed to do. But Mr Stark wasn’t here, and Wade’s reasoning for why he should go was weighing heavily on his mind. He didn’t get to travel often and so far he was spending this vacation couped up in a small town waiting to be useful for an hour. Who cares how he spent the other 96, so long as he didn’t jeopardize the mission? 

He was pulling his shoes on quicker than he could make a decision, and had his door locked and a dose of suppressants in his back pocket a moment later. Wade lit up when he stepped out into the hall to find Peter already waiting for him. 

“Glad to see you still know how to have fun.” The merc beamed, extending an escorting arm to Peter he refused to take. “I promise I’ll make rebelling worth it.” 

“No Moscow.” Peter said, his voice stiff. “But there was that cool looking bar up the road- the one with the skylight? - and we still have enough cash to get both of us at least mildly drunk, right?” 

“I like the way you think, Spidey.” Wade chuckled, leading them down the grimy hallway towards the exit of the hotel. “I’ll drag you to Moscow or Paris some other time. And if we run out of money for drinks, I’ve got a few Xanys in my back pocket. Either way, I can’t wait to see what you’re like when you’re fucked up, baby boy.” 

--

Wade spent the entire walk there detailing his past crazy adventures and near-death experiences when visiting Russia. Peter nearly regretted agreeing to follow him, particularly when he started to delve into the R-rated details, but he had to admit the distraction was nice. Even the worry that Mr. Stark would find out where they’d gone was preferable to sitting alone in his room, trying to ignore the cramps deep in his abdomen. 

The bar exterior was a bit busier than it had been the night before, but this spot seemed to be the only social gathering place in the entire town, so it wasn’t a surprise to find a mixture of people of all ages laughing and drinking with one another. Music played faintly from inside- some Russian pop music, Peter guessed- and the lights inside were dim, making it conveniently easier for Peter and Wade to keep up some anonymity. 

Wade pushed through the doorway with a grip on Peter’s wrist to drag him, the back of Wades body melting into a dark blob as they entered the space. As they approached the actual bar, Wade drew Peter up next to him, giving him a toothy grin. “What do you normally order?” 

“At..bars?” Peter asked, hushing his voice. “I’m 20. I’ve never been inside of one.”

Wade chuckled in a way that made Peter’s face immediately light up in embarrassment, leaning cooly against the counter. “You’re a superhero, friends with a billionaire scientist that has access to all his cool gadgets and gizmos and shit, and spend your nights probably stopping bar hits, and you don’t have a fake ID?” 

“No? I mean my friend and I have drank like wine coolers and stuff before from her parents’ fridge.” 

“You’re lucky the drinking age here is 18, you’re cute enough that no one can say no to that face, and I can speak the language.” 

Wade turned to speak to the bartender as Peter’s stomach twisted, and he waited impatiently beside him to get their drinks so he could get some space back between him and Wade’s overpowering scent. 

It took a minute of negotiation for Wade to finally get the man to fork over 2 double-shots and 2 mixed drinks, and Wade passed him a bill that looked way too big for the amount of alcohol they were handed. Peter grabbed his offered glasses and they picked their way through the crowd to an open loveseat furthest from the speakers to protect Peter’s sensitive hearing, and give them their privacy from the rest of the bar goers. 

“Bottoms up, Petey pie!” Wade saluted with his shot, making Peter mimic the motion. 

As they both chugged their shot, Peter couldn’t help but think that was definitely how he wanted to be right now with the hormones raging through his system, effectively making him choke on the last ounce of alcohol. 

“Whoaaa, you really are inexperienced, huh?” Wade laughed, patting Peter on the back as he sputtered for air. “You gotta hang out with me more if you can’t even handle a vodka shot.” 

“I-I’m fine.” Peter gagged, finally managing to get oxygen back to his lungs as his throat stopped spasming in alarm. He settled back into the cushions of the loveseat as far from Wade as he could get without making it obvious he was avoiding him, but the merc made no comment on the increased distance. 

“You can wash it down with your martini.”

“I at least know what that is, and it’s definitely not gonna help.”

“Worth a try.” 

Peter rolled his eyes and reached for it anyways, to give him something to do with his hands. The feeling of the alcohol sitting warm in his stomach at least helped to mask some of his other symptoms, which he was grateful for. 

“So, I know they gave you the choice to stay in an actual house and not in some sleazy town more infested with bugs than Stark’s pubic hair.” Wade mused as he took shockingly large drinks of his own martini. “Why’d you pick here?” 

“They don’t know my face or name or...anything else about me. At least, everyone but Mr Stark.” Peter stared into the glass, briefly considering telling Wade the predicament he was in. Wade was kind, and he was the one who was least likely to judge him for being an omega, or try to get him to drop the mission. But he was also a blabbermouth, and Peter wasn’t sure he wouldn’t sell his secret out for street cred with the rest of the team. “Plus, I don’t think I’d ever have the guts to do this if I was stuck in a house with Natasha. She’d have me running laps for hours or Clint would make me clean his bows or something.” 

“While they got it on in the other room?” 

“Ew.” Peter reeled automatically, then really considered it and looked incredulously at Wade. “You don’t think they’re…?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wade laughed. 

“I didn’t think about it.” Peter paused, then repeated, “Ew.” 

---

An hour later, Wade had spent way too much of their money shoveling shots down Peter’s throat, and the both of them had successfully gotten pretty tipsy. 

The later it got, the louder the other patrons grew, which meant Peter and Wade could giggle stupidly over cheesy jokes while remaining inconspicuous among the public eye. Peter could feel a slight tingle on the surface of his skin, which meant he’d have to head back to the hotel soon, but he was admittedly having too much fun to be overly-cautious. He hadn’t let go and relaxed like this in over a year, and sitting so close to Wade just felt good in ways he couldn’t really explain. 

And of course, as soon as the universe had handed him one good moment, it was ready to give him two bad ones. 

The chorus of Take on Me started to play from Peter’s pocket, his burner ringtone, and he reached clumsy fingers to dig for the device. 

“A-ha! Gotta say, I love your choices.” Wade drawled, strewn out over the loveseat. 

Peter managed to fumble the cheap flip-phone open, and the initials TS made his heart stop in his chest. “M-Mr. Stark.” 

Panic punched into Peter’s gut, and his stomach gave an unbidden lurch. He gaped at the screen, feeling as if the phone call was his martini playing with his eyes. Yet, after a few gasps of air to steady his nerves, he determined it really was Mr Stark calling him. 

“You gonna answer?” Wade was gazing down at the name over his shoulder, closer than Peter remembered, which only served to make him jump. 

“I have to, I think.” Peter swallowed, hopping off the couch as his mind whirled. The heat symptoms were a bit worse now, amplified by the sudden panic. “Um, I’ll be back.” 

He staggered to the entrance of the bar, past a few concerned onlookers that whispered incoherently- likely about the stress evident in his expression. Peter stepped out onto the lightly populated street, gulping down frozen air, before he finally clicked the green ‘answer’ button and pulled the phone to his ear. 

“H-Hi, Mr. Stark.” Peter smiled stupidly into the air, trying to remember what he sounded like sober. “Um, what’s up?” 

“Checking in. I feel like I was too short with you earlier. I know it can’t be easy to sit around in a gross hotel and being kept in the dark due to SHIELD clearance.” 

“I’m okay!” Peter insisted in a forceful manner, biting his lip to keep from letting his mouth wander into a tangent as he often did when nervous. “I mean, I’m having a good time.” He stopped. “I mean, it’s not that bad.” 

“Right.” Mr Stark responded with apprehension. “I just wanted to be sure. Surprisingly. I do have a shred of a conscience and know you weren’t entirely thrilled about this mission in the first place.”  

“Yeah, yeah but I’m like totally glad to help.” 

“And it’s appreciated. ” 

Peter didn’t have a good response, so he fell silent for God-knows-how-long, unable to actually tell due to the alcohol in his system.

“ Are you drunk right now?” 

The accusation made the vodka that had settled in his stomach turn ice-cold. 

Peter wracked his brain for an answer, though it was clear Mr. Stark had already made up his mind. 

He disappeared from the line for a moment, cursing with a hostile tone under his breath, before returning with an aggressive hmph of breath. “ You’ve got to be shitting me. What the hell were you thinking?” 

“I-I, I was just-” 

“ You weren’t thinking is the simple answer. You never do. You know this isn’t just about you, or the Avengers, or proving to SHIELD I wasn’t completely insane for thinking a 20 year old was competent enough to work with us. This is about proving to me you weren't the child you were when I met you. But it looks like I was wrong. ”

Peter felt a stab of pain in his gut, and tears sprung to his eyes. Oh god, he couldn’t start crying now, standing outside of a bar and looking pathetically out of place. Mr Stark’s words hurt, and they made him feel sick to his stomach. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was break his trust or disappoint him. 

“ I’m sorry, Mr Stark.” 

“Sorry’s aren’t good enough. You’re too smart for this, Peter. I’m disappointed.”  

Peter felt another sharp strike in his abdomen, and he faltered. It was different. This wasn’t just guilt wringing his insides. Below the top layer of his skin, he could feel a slight fever beginning. Shit.  

“ I’m coming to get you.” 

“ No!” Peter blurted out, berating himself silently a moment later. “I-I mean I’m...I’m not at the hotel right now. Wade and I went out to a bar in town and he’s in the bathroom right now. Plus I-I still gotta pack.” 

Mr Stark made an upset noise. “ Fine. I’m driving over when the sun comes up in the morning, then. Don’t do anything else to fuck up any worse, got it? ”

“Yes, sir.” Peter swallowed, curling his fingers tighter around the phone. The cramps were hitting hard. His entire stomach felt like it was being flooded with fire. “I’m really sorry.” 

“ Drink water and try to eat something before you go to bed. The last thing we need is to explain a hangover to Coulson in the morning .” Mr Stark paused with a sigh, clearly distressed. “ I know you’re young. I know you wanna do things kids your age should be doing. But you can’t be both a kid and an Avenger. You have to pick one or the other. I’ll call you when I’m almost there.” 

The phone call ended as Peter’s breath hitched, and he leaned back against the wall of the bar, clutching his stomach. His eyes burned and his body was giving clear warning signs of impending heat symptoms. They had to get back, before Peter threw up vodka and everything he’d eaten for 2 days in Shcherbinka, or worse- broke down into tears. 

He just had to find- 

“Ooooooh shit. Did I get you in trouble?” 

Peter started as he stood straight, Wade watching him from the entrance of the bar. 

Peter ran fingertips fast under his eyes but it seemed to be too late, the merc striding towards him with concern strewn across his features. 

“Petey, hey, what’s up?” Wade asked in a softer voice, maintaining his distance but holding out a comforting hand. “Was he that mad? Fuck, baby boy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d find out.” 

“Let’s head back.” Peter muttered, brushing his hand out of the way so he could head down the sidewalk. He could feel Wade walking behind him, but was grateful that he gave him his space. 

------

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a pounding at the door. 

In reality, it was likely just a normal-volumed knock, but the pressure in his head was growing exponentially, and coupled with his distraction, he hadn’t heard anyone approaching. His grasp tightened around the syringe in his fingers, feeling the glass splintering slightly, but he finally released it onto the top of his TV stand and pulled himself to his feet. For reasons beyond his control he felt annoyed at being interrupted. Even if the person on the other side of the door didn’t know the suffering he was subjecting himself to at the moment, his shoulders were tense and he was ready to give them an earful about invading his space. It was close to midnight. Who felt the need to show up and bother him now? All he wanted was to crawl into bed and wind the covers tight around himself, so tight he would be unable to breathe- just to feel surrounded by warmth and darkness. Not answer the door to some late night housemaid or the receptionist trying to remind him he was checking out tomorrow.

He yanked the door open until it nearly slammed against the wall, ready to snap, when Wade’s face came into view. He stopped, swallowing back all the surprise rooted in his stomach, and managed a meek “what?” 

“I forgot to give you back your wallet.” Wade said as he held out the pleather tri-fold, staring strangely at Peter. He knew he probably looked wild-eyed and angry, but he was barely keeping himself in control at this point. Everything felt uncomfortable in his body, as if his muscles couldn’t find a point in which they didn’t feel strained. “Petey? You look like shit. Is Iron Man being an Iron Bitch still bothering you?” 

“No, it’s nothing.” Peter muttered and reached for his wallet. He tensed when Wade’s gloves wrapped around his lithe wrist, squeezing lightly. The pressure was enough to set his skin on fire, and he couldn’t bring himself to move away from the contact. 

Alpha…

“Hey, hey, you’re shaking.” Wade’s voice was clearly concerned now, and Peter cursed his inability to drop things. He made another move for his wallet, but the other drew it further back. “Are you sick? Peter?” 

“I’m fine.” Peter grunted, his eyes blearily focusing on the texture of Wade’s sleeve. This close to Wade his scent was intoxicating, stronger than it ever had been, and the smell of burnt pine and expired rain wafted up through his head. It made him dizzy, and electricity sparked over his arms and down into his stomach. His scent alone was enough to make him quiver. 

Suddenly, his pants felt too tight, and the realization of what Wade’s presence was doing to him had his dreary vision snapping back into focus. But it was too late, because the taller man was already steering him back into the room towards the bed. 

“Do you need anything? I can run to the store, or call Daddy Stark or something. I don’t want you dropping dead on me, baby boy.” Wade’s mouth was so close behind his head, Peter imagined he could feel his hot breath on his ear and neck. Every step they took towards the bed was another cramp knotting in his stomach, and he wanted to scream from the pressure. Suppressants were supposed to eliminate the symptoms of heat, not just stop it in its wake. But he’d also never been on them for 2 days before, so he wasn’t sure when their effectiveness started to falter. “Here, lay down. I’ll get you all snug and then I’ll grab anything you want.” 

Alpha… smells good. 

Peter’s body moved on its own, making the painful crawl into his covers, before he collapsed in the middle of the bed onto his back, dropping his head back in the pillows. The world spun a bit before his eyes finally settled on Wade, who was sitting on the edge of the mattress staring at him. He gazed down at his arms, his pulsing muscles begging to be released from the tight hoodie material, and trailed back up to his broad shoulders and neck. Everything about Wade screamed dominance and strength, and his omega side was begging him to reach out to be held. Still, Wade didn’t seem to be paying attention to him, his eyes cast lower down on the bed. Peter followed his gaze, trailing over the blankets and down to his hips, where the blankets had stopped. 

His erection was standing tall in his jeans, making every effort to escape the confines of the uncomfortable fabric and seek out Wade’s attention. And Wade was staring directly at it. 

His expression was unreadable,  but Peter assumed he was completely freaked out as to why his friend had a clear hard-on after being touched by him, and he grabbed a pillow to shove down on his waist. 

“Oh my god.” Peter whispered in mortification, his voice gravelly. He squeezed his eyes shut as the heat in his stomach rose to mirror on his cheeks, rolling onto his side just so Wade would stop gawking at him. “I-I’m so sorry, I’m just tired and you showed up and I can’t help it-...” 

“Me?” Wade finally asked, his voice a pitch lower and focused. Peter felt the bed shift, and then a hand lightly settled onto his shoulder, as if he would break him if he put any weight on him. “Pumpkin, hey, it’s okay, look at me.” 

Peter shook his head, refusing to face the humiliation as he buried his face further into the pillows. He wanted to scream and cry at the same time, and curse his biology for being so fucking inconvenient it was ruining everything about this weekend. Why couldn’t he just be a beta? Why an omega? Why did the world hate him so much? 

Wade applied a bit more pressure onto his shoulder and forced him to return to laying on his back, his other hand moving to lightly rest on Peter’s abdomen. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” He murmured, his gloved fingertips rubbing light circles right on the spot there was the most tension in his stomach. “Can I help?” 

“What?” Now Peter finally looked back up at him, red eyes widening drastically. The question sent another wave of warmth crashing through his pelvis, and he knew the swelling wasn’t about to go down any time soon. 

Wade’s hand inched lower, grazing the waistband of his jeans, though his fingers didn’t dip inside, clearly waiting for full, and clear, permission. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you here alone like this.” He murmured, his voice sounding tighter. Peter swallowed back his jumpiness and looked down at the hand dancing over his hips, willing his body not to buck up needily for the attention it craved. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. But if you want me to make you cum, I will. Just say the word.” 

I need it.  

“Wade, I…” Peter didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have the strength to tell him no, to save himself from the humiliation of letting his friend get him off, but he also didn’t know if he wanted to tell him no. Maybe it was his heat still getting shoved back in his body, or the nights he’d spent jerking off to thoughts of Wade (only on occasion; he had said some pretty suggestive things in the past) but denying him felt like the wrong option. 

“If you don’t want to see me you can keep your eyes shut and pretend it’s someone else. I won’t mind. This doesn’t have to mean anything.” 

Peter knew that wasn’t true, that taking this step would result in a lot more confusion and tension filtering into their relationship, but the thought of Wade’s warm mouth swallowing him down his throat sent a shiver up his spine. 

If there was anything he knew about Wade, it was that he had a lot of experience in that department. 

Peter nodded numbly, draping one arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to face reality. 

“I need to hear you say it, angel. I don’t want to cross any boundaries unless you’re sure you want this.” Wade added as his fingers tugged and undid his button, the zipper audibly being drug down. 

“I want it.” Peter croaked, instantly feeling his temperature spike. “Please don’t make me say anything else.” 

Peter couldn’t see Wade, but he could practically feel his smirk of satisfaction. As promised, Wade moved on the bed so that his weight was bridged over Peter’s legs and pulled his pants and boxers down without asking any more of him. 

The cold air rushing over his dick almost made Peter moan in relief, but he bit his lip to keep the sounds at bay. In the darkness he could hear every movement Wade was making, from the rub of denim against itself to the creeks of the cheap bed springs underneath them. Wade’s mouth was absent, and the only real reminder he had that he was there was a hand pressing steady into his thigh, gripping bruisingly against the skin, while his other hand fondled with part of his own clothing. He almost wanted to ask if this was alright, reassure Wade he didn’t have to do this, but then, God , Wade’s face returned close to his pelvis with a hot breath brushing over the tip of his cock. 

Peter almost came right then. 

“Just try to relax,” Wade spoke lowly, each word sending a puff of breath over his sensitive flesh that had him twitching. “You smell delicious.” 

He didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before an overwhelming warmth enveloped the head and continued down. Each inch Wade took into his mouth sent more and more stars flashing in Peter’s eyes, and his entire body went tense. Whatever self control he had before melted away, as his mouth hung open in utter awe at the sensations. He’d gotten head before, though he was in his heat, so he didn’t quite remember it. Now, however, when his nerves were extra sensitive from his symptoms falling off but he was otherwise mentally alert, he was choking on the pure bliss. Eventually he felt Wade’s nose press snug into his pubes, and he realized, with an embarrassed gulp, that his dick was pressed in the back of Wade’s throat. 

Then the mercenary swallowed, and Peter’s voice shot out in utter ecstasy. 

“G-God, Wade, p-please…” Peter didn’t know what he was begging for, possibly relief from the mind-boggling fever he felt twisting his gut, but Wade seemed to comply. His mouth retreated until his cock once again bobbed free, and Wade tongued precum dribbling from the slit. Peter picked his head up in reaction only to drop it back against the pillows, a groan echoing from his chest. Wade hadn’t been exaggerating when he said his scars were everywhere. His dick once again penetrating his mouth and brushing along the inside of his cheeks proved that. The texture had him crooning instantly. 

Wade apparently decided that toying with Peter was more important than actually pleasing him, if his slow, firm pace was any indication. Everything about Wade normally was erratic and unruly, dangerously unpredictable, and yet now he demonstrated perfect control, unwilling to let the twitches or whines leaving Peter’s throat to deter him from his perfectly measured beats. His lips tightened and a slight suction drew more pressure to the surface of Peter’s groin. 

There was a low grunt from Wade’s mouth, almost like garbled words attempting to be formed around the length, and Peter drew his arm away enough just to glance down at him. The scandalous sight that met him as his vision readjusted to the light had his heart leaping up into his throat, a throb echoing through his limbs and making his stomach churn. “What?” He panted, on the edge of going absolutely insane from his taunting. 

Wade repeated his hum, the vibrations enough to make Peter jolt, but he maintained eye contact, growing a bit annoyed as all he wanted was to focus on chasing his orgasm. “I can’t hear you.” 

Wade’s lips drew back, his tongue being the last to peel away from his cock, as he swallowed back the mixture of fluids that must have been gathering on his tongue. He looked rather flustered himself- from what Peter could see of his exposed nose and chin from under his mask. “I asked if you just showered.” He grinned, teeth flashing bright as ever into a crooked, but breathtaking, smile. “Whatever soap you use is really working for you. You smell just..” His nose pressed into the crook of his thigh, causing Peter to tremble from the tickling sensation. “Like dessert.” 

Peter didn’t want to ask him to elaborate, knowing that whatever scent he thought he smelled was pheromones playing tricks on his brain, so he flopped back against the pillows instead. “That’s all you had to say?” He asked impatiently, toes burying into the cheap polyester sheets under him. 

Wade’s laughter had Peter self consciously curling back into himself, but then his hands were tugging his thighs back open until he was in a vulnerable position, similar to earlier. “You’re wanting more?” He asked in a low, but teasing voice. Despite all his pride, Peter nodded weakly, throwing both arms back over his face to cover as much of it as he could without suffocating. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll stop playing. I’d rather hear you screaming my name, anyways.” 

This time, when Wade took him back into his wet mouth, he didn’t give Peter any mercy or room to breathe.

Fingers dug hard into Peter’s hips, anchoring them down to the squeaking mattress, causing a frustrated huff to leave his lips. However, his complaints fell short when that wonderful pleasure blanketed his shaft again, warming his body from his toes to his chest. Wade’s throat opened to allow nearly every bob to force more of his dick to cram down into the tightness, not an inch left unattended to. Any rational thought floating in Peter’s head was obliterated, replaced by the image of red fire, of a tingling spreading through his fingertips and his feet, and the twisting of his stomach. 

And by Wade, abusing his cock and forcing so much sensation onto Peter he thought he might cry. 

It didn’t take long for Peter’s orgasm to build. He had already been on edge for days, and he didn’t doubt even a brush on his shoulder or a grab of his hip could have made him break down by now. But this was oh so much better than any feeling he could have jerked out with his hand. This was ecstasy, and he wasn’t just going to get off. He was going to cum, and he was going to cum hard.  

Peter’s arms found Wade’s head on instinct, his fingers gripping tightly at his temples. Wade noticed, his tongue putting in twice the effort and one hand raising to squeeze lightly on Peter’s aching balls. He mouthed Wade’s name, though no sound was able to escape his lungs, his voice strangled in his tight airway. His muscles clenched, his hands held harder onto his skull, and a second later his back slammed again into the mattress before bullets of hot cum shot down Wade’s throat. Peter squeezed his eyes shut so hard he could only see crimson, the other man’s mouth greedily sucking down his semen without so much a sound of disgust or displeasure. 

Wade didn’t release his overly sensitive dick from his mouth until he was sure his quivers had stopped, and he took his sweet time doing so. When he finally released him, his grip disappearing from Peter’s hips, he realized how empty he felt, and his hands twitched with the need to reach out to Wade, to ask to be held by the alpha, but he suppressed every indecent desire and instead settled for opening his eyes. 

Wade was redressed fully by the time he looked, and disappointment shot through Peter’s chest. 

“Hopefully you feel better now, Spidey.” Wade hummed in clear amusement, adjusting his sleeves so they went back down to the joint of his wrists. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. If you need anything else, well, you know where I am. Feel free to crawl right in.” 

Peter watched in silence, unable to fathom a proper reply or reaction now that his heat was finally withdrawing. Every step felt like a heavy weight on his chest, and he felt the need to say something, anything, even if it was to confess everything that he had been suffering through. He rationalized that was just the needy omega side of his brain, though, and some things were better left unsaid. 

Peter tossed himself onto his side, his back facing towards the door, to try to get proper rest. The door squealed open behind him as Wade started to exit, and he swore he heard Wade pause in the doorway to take a breath. 

But then the door shut lightly a second later and Peter was bathed in darkness. Alone, exhausted, and his mind struggling to make sense of everything that had just happened. 

Chapter Text

Peter wasn’t really good at handling the whole morning after shame when facing someone he’d had sexual contact with. Instead of deciding to have that awkward conversation with Wade about what this meant and all that, Peter instead locked himself away in his room to wait for Mr Stark to show up and save him. He felt pretty guilty turning Wade’s offer for breakfast down, insisting he didn’t feel good even if he was absolutely starving . Eventually morning melted into early afternoon, and Peter’s phone buzzed to alert him of an incoming text from the allusive TS. 

Car is out front. Check out quickly and get in. 

Peter grabbed his things and shifted his sore shoulder muscles, getting sick of injecting medication already. He knew he should change up his injection spot, but in the moment of losing himself to insatiable and agonizing horniness, he didn't think much about it. He drug his backpack out to the hallway and laid a series of raps on Wade’s door. 

“C’mon, Wade, it’s time to go.” Peter called out, irrationally irritable. He didn’t want to take his frustrations out on his friend, but he was hungry, hot in uncomfortable places, and plagued by the memory of Wade’s tongue doing unspeakable things to his body the night before, so he wasn’t entirely in the best mood. 

“On my way, honey!” Wade sang as there was a loud crash on the other side of the door. The sound of shuffling and items being picked up and placed back on a counter, then Wade appeared in his full-suited glory. Peter couldn’t physically see the smirk under his mask, but he was sure he could feel it. “I didn’t realize I was getting room service delivered to my door. But you’re out here looking like a four course meal, complete with steaming buns for-” Peter turned to stomp his way to the front desk, unamused.  “...hey, wait up!” 

Peter slid his room key across the desk towards the Russian woman with a forced, sweet smile, politely waiting for her to process their check out. He was antsy to get out of the hotel, even more jumpy about having to go back and face the other Avengers, but she seemed to process their payments rather quickly and was passing him a bill in a foreign language within a minute. 

“ Spasibo. ” Peter said in a poor attempt at sounding fluent and took the bill, turning back to head outside the building. “Car’s outside.”

“And the honeymoon is over.” Wade said in dramatic disappointment. “Back to tight pants and a tight leash. Oooo, that sounds like a fun weekend.” 

Peter just shook his head and made his way towards the double doors, to find the promised ride.

As much as Mr Stark had lectured them on staying discreet, he wasn’t exactly a master of disguise himself. 

The car that awaited them was expensive looking, and clearly didn’t have a place in this tiny town. The driver rolled down his window and jutted a thumb towards the back seats wordlessly, leaving them to awkwardly shuffle in. Peter was pretty sure he was SHIELD by the tight haircut and sunglasses covering his eyes, but he didn’t bother to ask. It wasn’t like they’d give someone like him an answer anyways. 

Peter shoved his backpack in first against the floor then clambered in, followed by the creak of Wade’s leather and a duffel full of whatever it was Deadpool carried on international trips. It took up the expanse of the car width, forcing Peter to shove his backpack in his lap and draw his feet up to make room, but they eventually got settled in and the car took off down the abandoned, dreary streets. 

“What super secret facility are we going to next?” Wade leaned forward to address the driver, slinging casual arms up over the back of the seats. “I’ve always been a fan of the prisons myself. Lots of big bads there but they have some amazing stories to tell.” 

“Get your head in back seat or I will blow your brains out of it.” The driver threatened in a low voice with a thick accent.

"Been there; done that. You'll make a mess of the sexy leather of your seats more than you'll permanently solve my existence issues." Wade shrugged off the violence and dropped back into his seat, watching as the partition began to raise to cut them off. The driver muttered a few words just before the glass locked into place, and Peter and Wade were left alone. 

Which meant they could talk about anything, even if one of them really didn’t want to look at the other right then. 

“Sooo, about last night.” 

Peter’s cheeks were already throbbing with warmth the second he knew it was coming up. “Um, we don’t have to talk about it.” 

“Oh.” Wade’s mask stared at him for a moment, and then finally faced forward. “Yeah, that’s what I was gonna say. Just a bro giving his other bro a bro-job-” 

“Dude.” Peter threw his hands up to cover his face, his nerves absolutely grated by then. “Mr. Stark could have like, a dozen microphones in this car. Please don’t say anything gross.” 

“Yep. Got it. Good Deadpool time. I can be PG-13.” Wade’s leg bounced against the floorboards obnoxiously, each sound of leather generating stabs of irritation in Peter’s stomach.

God, why was he so angry? He’d never been on suppressants this long. Usually he only needed a dose or two to get him through a school day until he could tumble into bed and get himself through a weekend with a day or two for vacation. Yet, every movement Wade made had Peter’s eyes shooting to glare at him until he felt like he’d go absolutely insane and snap. 

He needed to calm down. 

“Okay, but, seriously.” Wade was staring at Peter’s face, his gloved hand hovering between them. Peter eyed it, but the motion of the car was making him nauseous. “Are you okay? You’ve looked kinda shitty since yesterday. And you’re hella jumpy.” A pause, and then Wade gasped dramatically. “Are you on drugs? I’m surprised at you, my sweet and caring altruist. But do share.” 

“What? No.” Peter rolled his eyes, but a small smile perked the corner of his lips at the completely random assumption  “No, man. I caught a bug. That’s all. The Spider thing doesn’t help ‘cause of my enhanced senses and all.” He sighed, and sunk down against the leather seat. “I just wanna get through this mission. But Mr Stark said there’s a lot riding on it with SHIELD, so I really gotta be on my game.” 

“Petey moving up the chain of command.” Wade said with an approving nod. “Then I’ll be here to fuck things up and offer you stress relief when you want it. Any time you want it.” 

“It was just a weird night, right? I was a little tipsy and I’m sure you were, too.” Peter flushed. Wade breathed out audibly beside him, but he didn’t add anything else to the conversation. “Let’s just maybe not tell Mr Stark or Steve or anyone about that.” 

Wade’s body language changed and he shifted in the seat, his shoulders squaring up and his head bowing. When Peter looked over to see why he had changed, the mercenary deliberately looked away. 

“Ee-yup. Totally plastered.” Wade agreed, sounding not quite like himself in a way that made Peter feel suddenly guilty though he wasn’t sure what he had done. “My lips are sealed unless you ask me to open them for you again.”

Wade’s voice fell off half-heartedly so Peter remained silent, deciding that he'd try to catch up on missed sleep on the ride to their next destination.

*

Mr Stark wasn't in sight when they arrived, and for that, Peter was grateful. A few SHIELD agents led them into the facility, and it went pretty painless compared to normal. Wade didn't find ways to poke and prod at the agent's patience, which was odd for him. Peter didn't quite have the energy to ask why, so he waited until they emerged into a large conference room. The agents left them to sit and wait without explaining further about their situation. 

They sat in tense, awkward silence for what stretched on to feel like hours. Wade wasn’t talking, and Peter wasn’t the type to purposefully find conflict. So the heaviness continued until there was the familiar click of Mr Stark’s expensive shoes against the laminate floor just outside the room, and his low voice greeting whatever SHIELD agent was on duty guarding them.

Mr Stark cleared the conference room door, stepping into the space only about a foot. Everything about him was daunting and bigger than life, and made Peter feel twice as small. Especially when he was wearing a downturned frown and creased eyebrows, and his focus of upset was currently Peter Parker. 

“You. Out in the hallway.” Mr Stark ordered without a detectable hint of malice in his voice. It was times like this when Peter knew he had really screwed up. If Mr Stark seemed calm, then all hell was truly about to break loose. When Peter sat in frightened silence for a moment, Mr Stark’s fist squeezed shut. “Now.” 

Peter scrambled out of his chair, feeling more coordinated now than he ever had in his life. Under Mr Stark’s scrutinizing gaze he walked with stuttered steps out into the foreboding hallway, out under the bright white lights that made Peter’s sensitive vision burn. 

He turned shamefaced as the door to the conference room slipped shut. Mr Stark was closeby, giving him nearly no room to breathe.

“I’m getting really sick of running circles with you, Pete.” Mr Stark dug in. Peter backed up automatically, feeling like he had been punched. For every one step Peter took backwards, Mr Stark took 2 towards him. “You either want to be on the team, or you don’t. It’s an easy choice. So make it.” 

“Wha..what?” 

“Pick. Go home now, stay a local hero, and leave all the big bads to us like we did when you were fifteen,” Mr Stark’s eyebrow quirked. “Or prove to me, to SHIELD, and to the rest of the team that you’re old enough to be on these missions with us, and can handle the responsibility we’re giving you.” 

Peter shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and averted his eyes, staring down at the frayed edges of his tennis shoe laces. There was no way he could leave now. No way he could tell Mr Stark the truth and risk being sent home. He wanted to be an Avenger; he wanted to help others on a global scale. He couldn’t stand risking another half-decade of being pushed away from the fights. “I-I can handle it.” He muttered, thumbing the hole in his pocket “I’m sorry, Mr Stark. I won’t make a mistake like that again.” 

“Good.” Mr Stark finally backed off and regranted him space, fixing the sleeve of his blazer  much like Peter had learned to do when he was nervous. “Then go change into your suit and meet us in the debriefing room in 10 minutes. We’re pushing up the date of the infiltration due to complications yesterday.” 

“Pushing up?” Peter asked hopefully. “To when?” 

“Day after tomorrow. In the morning we’ll be running a field test to ensure the new comm system works effectively throughout the team without giving away our locations.” Mr Stark grunted and turned to walk off, not even sparing a glance back. “So stay out of trouble until then.” 

2 days. Peter just had to hold on for two days. His skin felt clammy and warm but he was sure he could last that long. Just get in, do his job, tell Mr Stark he was too sick to continue, and get sent home. He knew he could handle it. 

*

The field test Mr Stark had spoken of was set to take place in the forest surrounding the SHIELD facility they were currently located at. It wasn’t overly complicated, simply spreading out a few miles to be sure their comms couldn’t be tapped or interrupted by basic military equipment, or cut off by the mechanics of their suits and weapons. 

They were broken off into their established duos for the mission, which of course stuck Peter with Wade, and sent off into the woods until Mr Stark was able to establish that the communication network was secure for the mission ahead. 

Peter decided that ducking and weaving through the trees wasn’t worth the hassle or the headache, so he and Wade took off in a jog, approximately South, judging by the sun. His backpack was strapped onto his shoulders and when questioned, he told both Wade and the other Avengers that he wanted to work on an essay if there was any downtime. They’d given him slack about his age but ultimately didn’t fight it too much. Peter had a solid 2 hours before he’d need to shoot another dose of suppressants, but he wasn’t willing to risk it if the testing ran too long or they whisked him off to do another task before he could get back to his room. 

In less than 15 minutes, after they’d only made it about a mile and a half towards their destination, Peter was sweating. He had an impossibly high stamina compared to most people his age, and even compared to some of the Avengers. Usually, it took an hour of jogging to wind him. But his forehead was sticking to his suit and he could feel his heartbeat throbbing in his cheeks. He was sure Wade noticed. Wade slowed silently to a brisk walk and then stopped running altogether, staring at Peter breathing shallowly in his mask for a moment. 

Finally, maybe taking pity on Peter for his poor physical state, Wade let out a dramatic “Whoo!” and bent in half as if to replenish his oxygen. “Didn’t realize these assholes were dragging us out here for PE.” 

Peter shook his head, grateful Wade didn’t make him admit to how tired he felt. He reached shaky fingers to push the bottom of his mask up. The sun was beating down and warming the ground around them. The shade of the trees barely lent itself to cool down what felt like a hot summer day even if it had seemed about 20 degrees cooler earlier in the day. “Still better than the pacer test.” He mumbled, his voice jagged and weak as he spoke. His heats usually fatigued him, he just wasn’t used to it happening when he was on suppressants, too.

“I bet everyone’s still getting comm connections set up and finding their spots.” Wade prompted again. If he was worried about Peter, he was only barely showing it. But Wade was good at pretending not to notice things. As loud and crude as he could be, he was also incredibly attentive. “Maybe time to bust out that essay?”

Peter steadied himself on the trunk of the closest tree, turning his eyes up at the sun. It was barely visible high above them, but he could feel the rays like it was the middle of summer. He blinked black spots out of his vision, and his head started to rush uncomfortably the longer he looked up.

There was a gloved weight pressing against his bicep, keeping him from toppling over. Peter barely even realized he was falling until Wade had taken a hold of him. His chest caught the majority of Peter’s weight, and Wade ran comforting fingers along his shoulder and back. “Baby boy, you’re not lookin’ so hot. I mean, you always look hawt , but I think something’s seriously bugging out in the Petey-machine.” He hummed nervously. 

Peter shook his head and moved to push away from Wade, but he held him tight. “I’m okay, dude.” 

But his voice wasn’t as steady as he remembered it being a minute ago. His heart was still hammering away from their run, but he felt it deeper than his chest. And, God, Wade’s unbearable scent was choking him of oxygen, making his cheeks flush.

With a horrified jolt, he realized he was getting hard. It was something his suit didn’t hide well, despite all of the compressing technology Mr. Stark had incorporated into it. 

Peter gave Wade a hard shove that made the both of them stumble apart, panic coming in pounding waves. He could hear Wade questioning him far off, but his brain refused to process it. He couldn’t be here, out in the open, when his heat hit. 

Why was his heat hitting?! 

Peter’s eyes flickered over a tiny building off in the distance. It was old and worn down, and looked like it smelled of mold, but he didn’t have the option to be worried about where he injected himself with suppressants. If he didn’t do it soon, he’d be pleading for release on the forest floor, and Wade would undoubtedly let the team know that the hero was nothing more than a pathetic omega. 

Peter’s barely clothed soles slapped across pine needles and dirt, carrying him towards the building. He didn’t know if Wade was following, and he was too dizzy to try to look back. With how quickly his limbs were weakening, he was half stumbling in the direction of the door, and only by sheer will did he manage to keep himself on his feet. 

The door opened with a loud crack, and Peter tumbled through, throwing his backpack on the floor. He collided with the wall and reached fingers up to stick to the peeling surface of the tile. His knees were shaking, and threatening to give out. He pulled his mask off with a desperate gulp of air, trying to cool his feverish face. The only thing keeping him up was the minuscule strength of his hand, and after a second he started to lose that as well. 

And God was he getting horny. The desperation went beyond the normal inklings of need his heats usually sunk into him with. He reached his freehand down to palm the front of his suit, searching for any relief from the painful ache, and his knees finally buckled. 

Two bulky arms secured under Peter’s armpits and drug him back to his feet. And all at once, the sharp scent of worried alpha coursed through Peter’s nose and gave him a brief reprieve of anxious clarity. 

“Wade,” Peter’s voice was already heavy with hot breaths, his trembling fingers barely keeping a grip on the tiles in front of him. His knees finally gave way, but Wade’s body kept him upright. “M-My backpack. I have suppressants. P-Please, I can’t-..” He sucked in a pained gasp through his teeth, and his body finally dropped, making Wade’s arms squeeze tighter around his waist and chest. The alpha seemed to be in too much shock to let go of him, however.  

“I’m gonna set you down, Petey, okay?” Wade swallowed, clear worry straining his words. He walked them in a delicate turn, gently laying Peter back against the plaster, until he could slide to a sitting position on the floor. The mercenary stumbled back to retrieve Peter’s bag still half-spilled on the bathroom floor, pulling it upright. “Where are they?” 

“In a b-brown bag, middle pocket.” Peter forced out, tears gathering in his eyes. His heats had been bad before, but the spasms making their way through his intestines were excruciating. He was glad he hadn’t eaten earlier in the day, or his stomach would have already been all over the floor. Through blurry vision he watched Wade trifle through his bag a few seconds longer, and panic over the fact he may have left the suppressants behind became prevalent in his mind. However, the bag was produced a moment later and Peter felt himself relax at least a little more. 

“Okay, snookums, stay with me.” Wade’s voice was more tense now, less comforting, and the closer he got, the harder his alpha pheromones hit. Peter could tell it was taking everything in his control not to abandon the suppressants and take care of the hero himself, but luckily he was still able to keep a level head. “What do I do?” 

“Vial. It’s the su-ow- suppressants. Shoot them in my shoulder.” Peter whispered, pointing weakly at the two tools. His hands gripped back onto his abdomen again when his stomach churned, and he dropped his forehead against his knees. “Mmph, god, this s-sucks.” 

“I know, Spidey, I know.” Wade chuckled anxiously above Peter. There was a clatter of glass, a pause, and then hands tugged his suit back to expose his skin. Peter was too focused on steadying his nerves to really notice the needle, only feeling it once the coldness slipped out of his skin. His muscle ached for all of a second, but he bit back another groan and maintained his fetal position to wait out the dispersion of the symptoms. 

It felt like hours- but was likely only a few minutes- until he finally felt able to relax, the heat ebbing away back to his core and his muscles slowly unclenching. The smell of slick and hormones were still lingering in the air, but the fountain of need had stopped. Peter peeled his forehead from his knees and rubbed the beads of sweat away, his breathing returning to a normal pace.When his eyes finally found Wade’s, he was still staring at Peter, his body language tense and protective, the syringe tightly wound in his gloved fingers. “Thanks.” He mumbled, pure humiliation starting to wash over him.

 Oh god. Wade knew. The one secret he had struggled to protect at any cost- besides his identity- was now out in the open, and Wade wasn’t saying a word about it. “I-I’m sorry. I know this is weird and pathetic and my suppressants were supposed to last at least 2 more hours, and-” 

“Don’t apologize.” Wade said, soft and warm, his voice going back to normal. “But, Pete, what the fuck? You never told me you were… you know.” 

Peter winced, drawing his eyes away from Wade, anywhere, until they finally settled on a cracked tile underneath his shoe. “Does it matter?” He huffed with more aggression than he intended, and he felt Wade inch back. The syringe was dropped back into the bag it had come from, the suppressants being rolled up once more. “I’m still me. It’s not anyone’s business what my biology says.” 

“No, no, I agree. Fuck the system, and fuck alpha and omega roles.” Wade returned back, trying to sound more peppy to calm down Peter’s anger. “I just mean I wouldn’t have done or said half the things I have if I knew. How many times have I said some gross comment about an omega’s ass or talked to you about fucking one? Or the times you said you were sick, Petey, I should have left you alone. You can’t get sick, can you? That always sounded weird to me but I didn’t wanna question you. I could have at least brought you food or sent you cute texts if I knew that’s what you were going through, and not just a cold. We could have Romeo and Juliet’d that shit.”

“Hey, hey, Wade.” Peter spoke up to cut off his ramblings before they got too out of hand, straightening out more. “It’s okay. Honestly, I’d rather not get treated any differently because of it. So if you could maybe keep that up, I’d appreciate it.” He shifted with a frustrated groan, able to feel slick soaked through his underwear. It was probably on the back of his suit, too, which would be absolutely humiliating to try to hide. “For now, can you keep this to yourself? This is really embarrassing and the last thing I need is Mr. Stark finding me out like this when I’ve already managed to hide it for this long.” 

“Right.” Wade hopped to his feet and extended his hand to Peter, which he hesitantly accepted to pull himself back to his feet. “Ooooh, that’s not good. Come here.” He watched as Wade drug his bulky utility belt off and walked closer, his breath getting caught in his throat when arms encircled his waist. A few moments later Wade tightened the belt, the large pouches draping and mostly covering the wet spot on the back of his suit. Peter swallowed back his humiliation and ran a hand over his cheeks, wiping away the fire burning against them. “Let’s go lay out in the sun for a little bit, yeah, sweet cheeks? Maybe it’ll dry your suit a little bit and save me from all the desperate baby-making hormones that are choking me out in here. I can only keep my hands to myself for so long, Webs.” 

A chill ran over Peter’s arms at the idea that Wade could have lost it altogether. Could have taken him then and there. And God, he wouldn’t have minded. But he didn’t, and Peter was grateful for it. He didn’t want his first time on the floor of some worn down bathroom surrounded by cockroaches. (Even if he couldn’t see them, he could almost sense they were there.) 

“Mhm.” Peter weakly hummed, taking shaky steps out towards the door again to follow Wade out. He knew a bigger conversation was coming, and he wasn’t entirely prepared for it.

Chapter Text

"Petey, dollface, as much as I respect what your goal is for your pride and all-" Wade paced the bedroom Peter was staying in, holding his mouth and nose while gazing at Peter through his intensely white lenses. After the field test, they'd gone over the plan for the next day once more and then released the heroes to sleep. "I can literally smell how bad this is for your body. Your scent is giving me major agony vibes." 

"The mission is tomorrow, dude, I-I'm." Peter faltered in his steps and forced himself to sit down, mind groggy with dizziness and micro cramps stabbing at his stomach. "I'm okay. I can hold out. I've fought worse than just a heat." 

"But you're suppressing it harder than Elton John circa 1976." Wade stressed, rounding to stand in front of Peter. "You're putting yourself in danger." 

"It's already been four days, dude. I can handle one more. After the mission, I'll tell Mr. Stark-" 

"Hold it. Wait a second. Did you say four fucking days?" Wade reached out and seized Peter's shoulders roughly, making the Spider flinch back into the bed. "Those things are only meant to be used for like, a day at most. At least that's what Google said. And you've been on them for four days ?" 

"I had no choice." Peter protested in upset, his ears burning with shame. "It didn't start until we got here, and I wasn't about to dip out when Mr Stark made it clear I had to be here, or they'd like, take away my rights to patrol. The suit doesn’t even really belong to me."

“You think Daddy Stark wants you to block your bodily functions for nearly a week so you can crawl on a roof and take away some guns from some bad guys?” Wade guffawed and released Peter, sinking down onto the bed beside him with an exasperated grunt. Peter understood; he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the entire arrangement himself. “How are you feeling? Honestly, Webs.” 

Peter breathed out carefully. How was he feeling? Like he had the flu. His entire body ached and his skin burned with a fever that couldn’t break. He was sensitive; emotionally, physically, and sexually. He couldn’t tell the difference between frustration and desire, and he felt both towards every alpha that so much as looked at him. Especially towards Wade.

Peter rubbed his hands on the thighs of his sweatpants and grimaced. “Kinda off.” 

“You’re as sexy as you are a shitty liar.” Wade shook his head. He started to toe off his boots, dropping the steel-toed platforms against the floor. His pink Hello Kitty socks appeared from under the pant leg of his suit, making Peter crack a grin. “Then I’m sleeping here tonight, Petey.” 

Peter faltered from his temporary amusement. “What?” 

“I’m about as cozy as the ass end of a porcupine but as long as I’m here, I know that you have a way to get help if this plan of yours goes bad. Plus if anyone comes poking, they’ll scent me in here and hightail it away. Don’t worry. I’ll take precautions.” Wade slipped off the bed to the floor and kneeled beside his grimey duffle bag on the ground, digging through what sounded suspiciously close to guns and knives. Finally, he pulled out a slightly blood stained pair of handcuffs. “I can sing you lullabies.” 

“I’ll be fine without that.” Peter said wearily. The chances of himself waking up in full heat were pretty high, and he wasn’t sure he wanted Wade to see him in that position again. Except that a small part of him did. A small part of him wished that Wade was going to be in bed with him when it happened. 

His heat was driving him to insane thoughts. Sure, Wade flirted with him all the time, and he’d done other stuff with him back in Scherbinka. But getting him off when Wade thought he was a beta and actually taking care of an omega were two completely different ball games. Wade liked sex, but Peter definitely wanted him in more ways than that.

Wade snapped his wrist into the handcuff and then secured the other half to the metal bed post. Then, stupidly, he chucked the key into the room-connected bathroom, as it clattered against tile somewhere unseen. “There. Now I can’t even get myself out of it.”

Peter decided not to try to question the logistics of Wade’s plan and settled for rolling his eyes and lolling onto his back, tucking himself as comfortably as he could in the covers. He felt more secure with Wade there, and though he was anxious for the day to follow, he was relieved that this part of the mission was nearly through. 

He dozed off to Wade watching cartoons on his phone and the thoughts of how ready he was to be home. 

*

A shout of alarm tore through Peter’s throat and ripped him harshly from his dreams. 

It felt like a knife was being plunged into his stomach and white agony blinded him. His foot kicked out and he heard something metallic splinter. Sweat gathered on his brow and Peter wondered if he was truly being burned alive, boiling from the inside out. Nausea overswept him, and with a lurch he rolled onto his side and threw up onto the floor. 

“Pete? Hey, hey, Petey sweetie, I can’t reach you.” Wade spoke, far off, and his handcuffs jingled and tugged at the post of the bed. 

It was still pitch black in the room, probably in the middle of the night. Peter wasn’t sure what woke him besides the awful cramp that had made him feel like he was being ripped apart, but now he was struggling for air and covered in sweat, precum, and slick. He felt disgusting. 

“Pete-” Wade sounded as weak as Peter, like he couldn’t quite find the oxygen slotted between breaths of pheromone. “Fucking shit, this isn’t good.” He gave a sharp tug on his handcuff but the bed was bolted to the floor and refused to budge. “Are you okay?” 

“N-No.” Peter heaved but it seemed nothing else was coming up. He collapsed onto his back again, wheezing to catch a proper breath. “I-I need my suppressants.” 

“Jesus Christ on a stick. You wake up screaming in pain from them and that’s all you can think about?” Wade sat back heavily against the bed, grunting in frustration. “You need to be off them for a little bit. You’re gonna seriously hurt yourself.” 

“But I’m in-” 

“Come here.” Wade’s voice wasn’t as friendly as before. It was a notch lower, with a jagged edge that made him sound like an animal. “Come here and let me get you back to sleep.” 

Peter’s dick twitched at the memory of what they’d done before. At what Wade had done to him. “W-Wade.” 

“I won’t touch you any way you don’t want me to.” Wade vowed, his breathing nearly as heavy as Peter’s. “I don’t even have to, if you don’t want to. Y-You can just sleep on me or something. But holy shit, please just let someone else take care of you for once.” 

Peter crawled to the edge of the bed where he knew Wade was, clutching painfully at his abdomen. He half stepped off and half tumbled down to where he guessed the alpha would be, depositing himself into Wade’s lap. 

He could barely stop himself from rubbing up against Wade desperately with his scent now powerfully surrounding him. 

“Oh fuck, baby boy.” Wade bristled, a bare hand running through Peter’s hair tenderly. Small tugs on his tangles pulled small noises from his chest. “You’re goddamn delicious.” 

“ Nnh.” Peter braced his hand against Wade’s suit and squeezed, his eyes screwing shut. Even the small contact was enough to drive him to the edge of sanity. He wanted more. He needed more. Wade’s petting grew heavier, slightly more insistent. Rough fingers rubbed circles behind his ears, under his jaw, and finally came to settle on his lips. 

And like the desperate, heat-riddled omega he was, he parted them gently for Wade and sucked the tip of his finger into his mouth. 

Wade’s chest heaved and he nearly ripped his hand right out of Peter’s teeth, his breathing just as ragged as Peter’s by then. 

“Wade,” Peter tried, his voice airy and higher than he recalled it to be. Each word was a struggle to manage. His body felt like it’d combust. “I can’t breathe.” 

“Okay, let’s-” Wade cleared his throat, and muttered a spanish prayer that Peter could only catch half of. “Let’s take this step-by-step, before I seriously lose my shit and enter a rut.” 

The thought of taking anything slowly made tears prickle at the corner of Peter’s eyes. He’d already taken it slowly. Hell, he’d taken this entire thing stride-by-fucking-stride. He was hurting- like really hurting- and Wade was right there, cradling him to his body, and he couldn’t piece together why the alpha refused to fuck the fever out of him. 

“Don’t cry, shit Petey, please don’t cry.” Wade wrapped his free arm around Peter’s midsection and pressed his masked face against his hair. He must have scented his distress, or maybe Peter’s sniffling was apparent in his gasps for oxygen. “I-I can’t give you what you want. Not when you’re like this. You don’t want me like that.” 

“I do-” 

“No.” Wade said somewhat harshly, squeezing tighter onto Peter’s body. “You’re too beautiful to just throw that at any alpha that looks your way, and definitely not a monsterous one like me. You don’t know the thoughts I’ve had about you baby. The things I’ve wanted to do to you, even before this.” 

Peter’s stomach did an odd twist, but his rejection didn’t help to quell the desire he still felt. “Then something.” He whimpered. He didn’t care how he sounded. He wanted a break from the agony. “Anything j-just...something.” 

Wade went silent, and Peter was left to drown in his racing heart he could practically hear pounding away, the nausea gagging him, and the cavernous emptiness begging to be relieved, the emptiness Peter himself couldn’t touch. He began to grow twice as restless as the cramps gutted him, making him feel as if his insides were tearing to shreds and his skin seemed to be stripped raw. 

“You’re allowed to hate me for this tomorrow.” Wade finally reached his hand out to seize Peter’s chin, drawing a startled whimper from him. “I’m gonna hate me for this, too. But, fuck, I can’t hold back around you.” 

Wade pressed his mask against Peter’s neck and inhaled deeply, with a longing noise, and his fingers began to trail down the front of his pajama shirt, over his abdomen, and his hand sunk into the front of Peter’s pants. 

Peter nearly broke out in sobs when he felt his hand close around his erection and start to pump him to orgasm. 

It wasn’t quite enough. Peter could cum but it wouldn’t get him through the wave. But Wade seemed to know what he was doing and it felt too good for Peter to demand more. 

Wade worked him as Peter’s hips jolted, and lightning sparked behind his eyelids. His hands were rough and the texture of his scars brushed over his sensitive flesh, and when he touched his tip he felt like screaming. It was all too much, too much sensation for his self-abused body to handle, but each stroke reminded Peter of the loneliness growing inside of him, threatening to take him over. 

“G-God, Wade, I-I’m gonna-”

“I know, beautiful.” Wade’s wrist rattled against the handcuff, and he gave a ragged puff of air into Peter’s neck. “Fuck, do I know.” 

Wade drug his hand over Peter’s length again, rougher, and sent an arch of white pleasure through his chest. Peter bit hard into his lip, still aware that they had bedroom neighbors, and he couldn’t be discovered like this. Not now. 

But then Wade squeezed him and Peter felt his resolve melt away, his chest breaking open. He convulsed as his orgasm wracked through him, his world temporarily fading away from him only to return with the full reality of how mind-blowing it all was. A small moment of relief shattered him open and the tears finally dripped down his cheeks, leaving him even more starved for air. 

“Oh fuck. I’ll never hear a better sound than that ever in my life.” Wade groaned above him. He shifted Peter, just slightly, and panic immediately erupted within Peter’s chest. Was Wade leaving him? Peter was still suffering from the emptiness inside, and he was sure he wouldn’t last the night if Wade decided to force him back into his bed. He gripped hard onto the front of Wade’s suit and the alpha seemed to get the message, halting his movements. “You won’t be comfortable if you sleep down here, Petey-pie.” 

“‘M fine.” Peter mumbled, curling his legs up on himself. He was exhausted, from days of tolerating the symptoms and slipping in and out of such a tolling condition, and from the empty orgasms he’d been worked to that never seemed to mean anything. “You smell really good.” 

Wade made an odd noise again but Peter didn’t have the energy to analyze it. Wade wiped his hand on the sullied fabric of Peter’s sweatpants and hooked his unbound arm under Peter’s knees to hold him securely. “I-I don’t have the kind of self control you think I have.” He warned. “As much as I want to be able to, I don’t think your pain is enough to keep me off of you all night.”

“I trust you.” Peter sighed into the darkness as he cradled himself against the disaster tearing through his body and fell victim to the small comfort Wade was able to offer him. 

*

Wade had gotten Peter off four more times by the time the morning came and the sun rose high enough that it poured through the small windows of the SHIELD room. 

Each time, Peter was left more unsatisfied than the rest. His stomach and thighs would quiver and he’d beg for more, for anything more, with wet eyes. But Wade would sush him and smother him until he eventually passed out again. He was exhausted by the 5th orgasm that had shattered his world, granting him another hour of rest before the mission, and finally Wade let Peter crawl to go fetch the key he’d tossed away with the promise that he’d relieve his pain. 

Wade tenderly rubbed a thumb over the red splotch of skin he’d stuck the syringe in when the needle popped out. It bled for a small moment, but clotted quickly, Peter’s healing factor kicking into place. 

“Pete, baby.” Wade pulled Peter’s shirt back into place above his neck, though it was damp with sweat. The mattress dipped when Wade climbed onto it, his heat pressing up against Peter’s back. The solid mass of muscle rippling finally caught Peter’s wavered attention, and he looked up at the bed as his vision faded back to attention. “How are you feeling?” 

Wade’s words were riddled with nerves. Peter could hear the wavering of them. He could somewhat recall Wade’s warning that Peter could ‘hate him tomorrow’ for helping him out, and he definitely didn’t want him to feel bad for what he’d done. 

“I-I’m okay.” Peter breathed back in a hoarse voice. He’d spent half the night in tears and gasping, so his throat felt a little worn down. “Just...waiting for the symptoms to go away.” 

Wade pressed a steadying hand against Peter’s wrist, his fingertips brushing fleetingly over his skin, then running back up to cup his bicep. “Today’s it, right?” He asked in a weary tone. “You’re gonna tell ol’ Iron Dick that you’re feeling sick when it’s all over. I’ll back you up, say you were throwing up all night. Just blowing chunks everywhere. Really nasty shit.” When he saw Peter crack a small grin, he squeezed his arm. “And we get you sent home, so you can lock yourself in your bedroom and do what I only wish I could pay to see you do.” 

Peter didn’t like the idea of it. He was still worried Mr. Stark would give him a disconcerting glare or a sarcastic remark about how childish he was. But even though Wade had injected him with the suppressants, he barely felt different. His body was still sore and his mind was foggy. He could barely keep his eyes open, the brightness of the sun making his head pound. He didn’t think he could really last much longer before he actually got sick or went into heat shock- or worse; the medication stopped working completely. 

“Yeah, I got it.” Peter mumbled softly, and made a weak attempt to crawl off the bed onto unsteady legs to get a shower in and get out of his gross pajamas. “Just let me get through the mission tonight, and I’ll tell Mr Stark I’m not feeling well.”

“And you have your favorite bestie Deadpool looking out for that tight caboose of yours the whole time.” Wade added with a shit eating grin, though his eyes told all of his worries about how long Peter could really last in the state he was in.

*

“Spider-Man?” 

The chopper blades buffeted against the sky and generated a vacuum of loud thundering, pulsing painfully against Peter’s eardrums. His head hurt and it was taking all he had not to throw up, all muscles clenched to keep it at bay. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Peter had been in helicopters of similar style before- military grade, so as to not raise suspicion in this part of the country- but they’d never been this agonizing on his senses before. His migraine grew worse with every foot they travelled, and he could practically picture every sound wave vibrating through the air and crashing into his body. 

The doors that led to the outside of the helicopter hissed and shut on the frame, encasing them in near silence. Finally, Peter felt able to take a breath, and he pulled his hands off of his ears to gaze blearily at the person trying hard to get his attention. 

Sam looked down at him from behind tinted sunglasses, his lip set straight in concern. Behind him, the other Avengers were also gaping, including Wade, who was twitching to move towards him. 

“His senses are a dozen times more enhanced due to his mutation,” Mr Stark explained through his helmet. “The noise was killer, wasn’t it, kid?” 

Karen buzzed to life in Peter’s ear. “A scan of your vitals is currently being run by Tony Stark, Peter. Would you like me to include information about your hormonal levels?” 

“No.” Peter’s abrupt answer caused Sam to narrow his eyes, and he cleared his throat and tried to answer more calmly. “I-I mean, yeah, it was really loud. Thanks - uh- thanks for closing the door.” 

“I have withheld the information you requested, but I would advise seeking medical attention soon. It seems that the suppressants in your system are starting to deteriorate organ function, and you’re metabolizing them more quickly than before.” 

A jolt of electricity shot through Peter’s arm and set his nerves ablaze. He leapt from his seat and flipped over himself, toes grabbing hold of the ceiling, followed by his fingertips, crouching in a defensive stance.

Where he had been, Natasha was holding a miniature stun gun, lightly crackling, though it seemed to be set to the lowest setting. Barely enough to administer a buzz comparable to a prank shock pen. 

“You’ve been behaving weirdly all week.” Clint said with a searching expression. “And you’re jumping literally up the wall. What’s wrong with you?” 

Peter’s eyes darted between them as he dug for an explanation, but his mind was preoccupied enough by the stress his body was under, and he couldn’t clearly think. The only person that wasn’t regarding him suspiciously was Steve. The captain had a more knowing look placed on his face, and Peter felt like he was being seen right through. 

“School.” Peter lowered himself back down into his seat carefully, slipping down silently against the pleather. “I-I just have a lot of assignments due. And I’m stressed out about finishing them, because I’m here. But I know this is important so...it’s nothing.” The others didn’t look a bit convinced. “Seriously, I just want to get my projects turned in. It’s not like my teachers know that I’m taking two weeks off to end international illegal weapons trade instead of spending two weeks at home playing video games or something.” 

“Alright, give the kid some space.” Sam decided and beckoned them all to back away, standing up himself. “You all know how you felt your first couple of times. He’s still getting the hang of it.” His hand clapped down on Peter’s shoulder, nearly making him crawl out of his skin. “We’ll finish this up and then we got a 12 hour flight to Cabo. Cap will keep everyone quiet so you can focus on your homework.” 

“Th...thanks guys.” Peter said with weak enthusiasm. He spared a glance to see Deadpool giving a silent disapproving shake, making his guilt weigh heavier on his shoulders. He hated lying, and he wasn’t good at it, and the fact that Sam accepted his excuse so easily made his stomach hurt. If Deadpool made you feel ashamed of your decisions, that’s when you knew it was beyond immoral. 

*

“It seems that your temperature is severely elevated, Peter. There is a high probability that your heat isn’t responding to the suppressants, and the consistency of your use of them is causing negative side effects. You’re at an increased risk for seiz-” 

“I-I got it, Karen, thanks.” Peter hissed, digging his finger hard into the metal wall. It creaked under his grasp, and when he moved his hand away to continue moving, there was a clear indent of where his hand had been. 

“You’re kinda scaring me, Spidey.” Wade whispered, obnoxiously poking his head around. His white lenses peered blanky into Peter’s mask. “The strength thing is like, super sexy, but you usually don’t get this snappy. You sure you’re not losing it? We can take a break.” 

“Just stop asking me, dude.” Peter said a bit harsher than he meant to, digging his hands harder into the wall. Wade shrunk away obediently from his gaze and returned to his Yoda perch. Peter felt bad; he knew Wade only had good intentions. But his heartbeat was pulsing in his ears and he could barely keep himself straight, so he had no time to be interrogated on his health.

The further they crawled down, the cooler the air seemed to get. Peter guessed they were probably underground. It was late enough into the night that the elevator didn’t seem to be used much, though Peter wouldn’t let the lack of activity in the shaft trick him. Nat had warned him that the floors would still be packed with armed guards and security on the facility was tight, so he’d have to be alert and careful. It was likely they had an automated security wipe programmed into their system on the chance of infiltration, and they would need the information contained there to break the weapons trade down. 

Basically, if Peter screwed up, the entire trip would be a waste. And he hated the pressure. 

Wade hummed a soft tune behind Peter’s head, and as much as Peter didn’t need the distraction right now, it kept the mercenary’s mouth busy so he wasn’t constantly trying to check on Peter’s health status. 

They descended down to the second to the bottom floor, just above the basement. The comms crackled in Peter’s ear, the signal minorly interfered with between the layers of concrete and insulation, but he could still hear the faint words of Steve and Natasha conversing about the population of the floor they were keeping eyes on. 

“Karen, flip on comms.” Peter whispered. He dug his fingertips of his right hand into the frame of the doorway, straining to pull it open. It gave way a few inches after Peter sunk all of his strength into it, puffing out a pinched breath. It was a task that normally wouldn’t need all of his attention, but now it was making his head pound from overexertion. “We made it to the floor housing the data bank.” He panted into his microphone, twisting to let Wade crawl off of his back into the hallway while Peter kept the door propped open. 

“Got it. Detonating now.” Natasha grunted in response. 

“Have you two met any resistance yet?” Steve asked, concern lacing his tone. “You sound out of breath.” 

Wade stared back at Peter through his lenses, his body language taut and protective. Even when he was joking around, he wasn’t a force to be messed with. Everything about the merc was big and well practiced. And with Peter barely fighting off his heat with the weakening suppressants in his systems, he seemed twice as attentive to Peter’s safety and health. “Just mention that you’re not feeling good.” He prompted.

Peter let out a silently calculated breath, heaving himself up onto the same floor Wade was standing on as the doors sprang shut behind him. “We’re fine.” He forced himself to answer in an overly-confident tone. “Crawling down just-” 

The explosion went off floors above them, knocking Peter off his step. His ears whistled with the force of the bomb, temporarily blinding his senses. Wade caught him before he could take a tumble, hoisting him upright. 

He really owed Wade the world after this mission. 

“Karen, comms off.” Peter croaked as he clung to Wade’s shoulder, his knees shaking from the blow. His vision focused on the empty hallway, lights flickering, though a clammer had started further down. He knew they wouldn’t expect the Avengers to have already infiltrated this far when it appeared they were just trying to break into the facility from above, but they wouldn’t completely rule out the option, either. Peter and Wade would still have to fight their way through as silently as they could. 

Once they got the data uploaded to Mr Stark, they could get out quick and let the other Avengers play clean up until SHIELD arrived. Which would give Peter time to get back to his backpack on the ship, inject himself full of suppressants, and get himself together enough that he could tell Mr. Stark he really wasn’t in full health. 

A buzz ran down Peter’s spine, and he tugged Wade flat against the closest wall, disappearing into the shadows of the half-damaged electrical grid running through the building. 2 soldiers dressed in full protective gear, holding automatic rifles stepped out into the hallway, scanning the area briefly before they reported into radios clipped onto their shoulders. They were speaking Russian, so Peter had no idea what was being said, but he knew Wade was listening carefully. 

“Getting called upstairs to the explosion.” Wade mumbled to Peter, his larger arm pinning Peter back against the metal wall. “They’ll head back here when the upper levels are clear.”

Peter focused in his hearing, trying to picture what was beyond the walls of the doorways. Their goal was to get in and out as quietly as possible, so they couldn’t be surprised by any soldiers lurking. 

“There’s a couple scattered.” Peter mumbled, his eyebrows knit in focus. “Hear them walking behind the doors. Not many people down here, though.” 

The two soldiers were heading down the hallway towards them now. Peter nudged Wade to hold onto him, and he scaled the wall in a silent skitter. 

With his arms and legs wrapped tightly around Peter’s waist, his scent was unbearably strong. Wade’s face was so close to Peter’s neck, it made his arms tremble. He clung harder to the ceiling until he was straining, forcing his mind on other things than Wade’s hips against his waist or the pure strength of the alpha holding onto him. 

“Fuck, pumpkin.” Wade whispered in a low, jagged tone. His arms tightened, and Peter’s body jolted in return. “Your scent. ” 

The soldier’s boots hit the ground directly under them, and Peter nudged Wade sharply to get him to move. The mercenary quickly released him, twisting his entire body on his fall down, and his katanas rang out with a splatter sounding against the carpet. 

The smell of blood was overpowering to Peter’s sensitive nose, and he dropped down to follow Wade. He needed to get away from the bleeding out soldiers, before he really lost his stomach. 

A hand on his elbow forced him to freeze. 

“I can smell you.” Wade breathed, his lenses as blown as his eyes must have looked under the mask. Peter stiffened. For a moment, Wade’s head split off into two, the walls warping around him. Peter blinked away the dizziness, his breathing stuttering. “Is it hitting again? Baby, you can’t be here when it does. That’s asking for some jackass alphas to try to mate you.” 

“I-I’m fine. I can’t feel it.” Peter turned sharply, aiming towards the rest of the long hallway. “The faster we find the mainframe, the faster we can get out.” 

He took off in a sprint, leaping up towards the ceiling to take out cameras with webs before Wade could try to stop him again. His breathing was seering in his chest, and his stomach was starting to contort in horribly painful ways. But they’d already gotten this far. They were so close to proving to Mr. Stark he could do this that he couldn’t stop now. 

He pushed himself further. Every time he felt himself lagging in his crawling, he breathed new life into aching, heavy muscles and moved all the faster. His mind was starting to swim, until Peter could only focus on what was directly in front of him. He would jump down occasionally to web soldiers to the ceiling and crush their radios, but Wade was playing clean up just behind him. The two were an efficient team, as sick as Peter felt. 

Peter wasn’t sure when he lost Wade, between his winding trip following the map Karen had loaded into his screen towards the main computer. Sometime further down, he had dropped down to take care of four soldiers that had emerged from a side-room he hadn’t even heard, and he kicked the hand of the one that tried to alert the rest of their team. 

But when he flipped back and landed, his knee buckled. With a terrifying lurch, his legs seemed to finally get the memo that there was no more strength to hold them up, and Peter half-collapsed against the wall, gasping for air as his eyes struggled to focus on the men attacking him.

Another wave of dizziness washed over Peter, and before he could do anything to steer himself out of harm’s way, the butt of a rifle was slamming down across his cheek and sending him tumbling to the floor. His toes dug into the tile to skid his fall to a stop, but the nausea that followed made his stomach feel as if it was ripping apart from the inside. He was paralyzed in agony, trembling and gripping onto the ground with inhuman strength, even as the 3 henchmen ganged up on him. 

“Look at the little Spider, can’t even take a punch.” One cackled menacingly from behind him. The other two shared a similar laughter, taunting Peter from above. He wanted to move. He wanted to fight back. But the pain rippling through his organs like a hot fire was too intense to even think about standing. God, please let it end.  

“Fuck you, Spider-Man.” A kick to the side had Peter crying out, collapsing to the floor an instant later. There was another heel digging against his ribs, crushing them, then another lash. The pain was blinding, and Peter couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to differentiate between the feet of the two men. 

However, the sound of safety clicking off of a pistol in front of him was the sound he needed to clear his mind. His fight or flight instincts kicked on in a second, and before he could process his arms were back under him and his body was twisting to pick himself up off the floor. 

The first man came down easily. Peter swiped his legs out from under him with a sickening crack, and as he fell his weight helped the hero trip him over his shoulder to send him sailing to the floor. 

Peter's hand scrambled on the ground to push himself to standing, but his strength was sapped, and his shaky arms barely managed to get him an inch up before he slipped back to the ground. His heart was racing, so fast he was terrified he'd have a heart attack and die before anyone found him. He tried pathetically again to get himself up off the ground, but another catastrophic wave of sickness made him cringe on himself and he covered his mouth through his mask, feverish throbs pulsing through his stomach and pelvis. His lower half felt like it was aflame, desperate warmth begging for the attention of any alpha that could get him face down on the floor first. 

“ Omega.” The second gunman Peter hadn't taken out was staring at him down the barrel of his pistol, predatory eyes glaring down. He was in range for Peter to take him down, but his vision swam and the agony of his heat pulled his attention back away from the alpha.

“W-Wait, hold on- ow…” Peter’s hands found his stomach and gripped bruisingly, pure terror etched onto his expression. Why now? Why did he have to lose himself now? This was it. The end of his career, the end of his secret identity, maybe even the end of his life. 

The tip of the gun pointing at him wavered, and Peter fearfully realized his attempted murderer was staring back at him with hungry eyes. The alpha stench overwhelmed him more and more by the second, until he was swimming in the fear of it. The gun crashed on the floor, and suddenly hands were grabbing for his mask. 

“Show me your face, omega. ” 

“Get OFF.” With all the strength that hadn’t yet been seeped from his muscles, Peter managed to push the henchman away from him, knocking him flat on his ass. With an angry ‘oof’ he released a dark growl, almost immediately back on his feet. Another wave of cramps hit Peter, and his temperature spiked, until he was dizzy and fighting to keep his mind in the present. He was getting nearer, but Peter was forced to remain in his fetal position, his body rejecting his pleas to escape. He was a prisoner to his condition, and even he could smell the absolute terror in the air. 

A scream was ripped from the throat of his attacker, and then silenced. Peter struggled to raise his head, blinking back pained tears in time to see the henchman crumple to the floor. Standing over him was none other than Deadpool, his katanas drawn and suspended at his sides. Slowly, he sheathed them once more, and gave Peter a once over. His instincts told him to reach out for Wade, to beg for the relief he knew he would give, that this alpha was safe, and warm, but Peter was only slightly conscious enough to know he couldn't get the relief he needed in this facility. “Wade-...” His voice was breathy and high, sounding from somewhere in the back of his throat he couldn’t control. 

“It’ll be okay, Spidey. Hold on.” Wade said back in a low voice Peter had never experienced, but it helped to soothe his fears immediately. “I told you you had to stop using...never mind. We’ll talk about it later. God, sweetie, you smell like absolute heaven. I can’t be this close to you.” Peter could hear Wade’s focused deep breaths, almost as clearly as he could feel his alpha presence so close to him. “I-I’m not gonna leave you, just don’t keep trying to get me t’ hold you, okay? You’re making this really difficult to ignore. Close your eyes and someone will be here soon, angel.” 

Peter wanted to fight. He wanted to climb to his feet to run and hide, but that luxury was lost along with his pride. He tucked his head back between his knees, the smell of slick coating his inner thighs overwhelming him. He trusted Wade, beyond just what his biology was telling him. But he also wanted Wade to turn around. To pay attention to him. To wipe away as tears and take him on the floor until it all stopped hurting. He wanted it so bad, another wave of slick pushed from his body and he whimpered against his leg. 

Just as Peter was on the cusp of crying in frustration, his heat now at peak severity, Wade’s voice rang out in the back of his mind. He eventually registered him calling out to someone, though it still seemed distant, and he wasn’t even sure it had to deal with him until there was an arm lacing under his legs and around his back. 

“...’s okay.” 

Peter cracked his eyes open behind the mask, Captain America’s concerned expression eventually swimming into view. Tony stood just behind him, face uncovered, with an equally worried look stuck on him. The situation would be humiliating, if Peter really had the mental capacity to think on it. 

“I won’t take off his mask. That’s too far.” Steve’s voice matched up with his lips, though Peter still couldn’t process what was being said. He heard it, though it wasn’t registering. 

“He can’t breathe, Steve. I’m not letting him suffocate. He told me this would happen and I forced him to come anyways.” 

“Roll it up to his nose, okay?” Steve sighed. Cold fingers touched Peter’s face, and he began to shy away before he was coaxed into staying put by a shushing from the American hero himself. Peter felt a bit of the dizziness ebb away, his shallow breaths now able to access more oxygen than was available before. “We’re gonna get you out of here, Spider-Man. Try to stay calm. The entire team was able to smell you on every floor. It doesn’t help when you’re panicking.” 

“I should come with you.” That was Wade talking now, a protective, serious edge to his voice Peter had never heard before. “I’m not letting him get hurt or touched by anyone else.” 

“No.” Tony immediately shot it down, but was met with a low growl from Wade. “Not if you’re going to pull this alpha shit. I won’t risk you jeopardizing everything.” 

“You have to finish the mission, Tony.” Steve returned. “Let me take Deadpool. You know they’re friends. He protected him until we got here.” 

“But-” 

“Just go. I’ll watch over the kid.” 

It was Tony’s time to give a frustrated grunt. Peter wasn’t sure where he went, but he disappeared, which left Peter alone with the other two treating him like a wounded animal. He moaned in pain under his breath as another cramp had him shuddering, his breathing growing more labored with each passing moment. He wanted to scream. There were so many alphas in the building, so many he could feel seeking him, so much relief he could have, but he was still in pain. Still overheating. Still desperate to have the indescribable emptiness inside him filled. “ P-Please.. ” It wasn’t his voice, but the word still came from his mouth. Steve gave him a pitying look, and almost immediately he turned his attention away and led them towards the elevator Peter and Wade had descended down earlier. “I need it to stop.” 

“I know.” Steve sighed thickly through his mouth,very clearly trying not to breathe in the pheromones screaming for attention. “I’m sorry. We’ll be back at the base soon. Just hold on until then.” 

They emerged out into the previously destroyed upper level, only to find Natasha doubled over and clutching for dear life onto her knees. Scott stood over her, though upon glancing up and seeing the collapsed Spider, he pulled off his helmet to reveal a shocked expression. “He’s the omega? That sucks.” He winced, and Peter shifted with a soft groan. “Well, this mission is bombed. Nat’s stuck in rut and we lost Spidey.” 

“Tony is continuing. Don’t stick with previous mission plans. Follow him, and provide back-up until he reaches the information hub. Natasha will be fine once we leave the building. They know we're here, but the distraction of his scent is good; it seemed to throw off a lot of the alphas.” Steve instructed, and Scott immediately threw his helmet back on. 

“Got it.” Peter felt a hand on his shoulder, and he weakly looked up into the ant mask staring back down. “Sorry this happened to you, kid. But none of us are judging you for who you are.” 

Peter was unable to deeply process what he meant, but the comforting voice calmed his frayed nerves for a moment. He nodded numbly, unsure what he was even agreeing to, until the heat sent his mind back in a spiral. It wasn’t giving him any room to breathe. A desperate emptiness was curling in this pit of Peter’s stomach, loneliness spreading through each and every inch of his body.  He wanted to beg for affection; he needed to be reassured that he wasn’t small and alone in the world that seemed much too large for him right now. He was surrounded by possible mates. He could feel them around every corner. He was being touched by one, but Steve wasn’t even reacting to the pheromones reeking of helplessness pouring from his neck. Hell, Peter couldn’t even smell Steve. 

Another round of cramps inflated in Peter’s organs, and he reeled in his arms, a sob rearing itself from his throat. “F- fuck. ”

“Please go.” Natasha croaked from her spot on the floor, her fingers tangling more viciously in her ponytail. When she turned her eyes back to stare at the grouping behind her, they were bloodshot, and a snarl played on her upper lip. “Go to the courtyard. Bruce can pick you up from there. I can’t handle this.” 

Wade stepped protectively closer to Steve and Peter on instinct, but Steve was already moving, picking through the debris of the explosion to make their way towards the exit. They emerged out into the nighttime, the lights shattered overhead, leaving them illuminated by the moon. A few seconds of agonized waiting, and the Quinjet showed itself from behind the clouds, lowering itself towards their location. The courtyard was only barely big enough to contain the size of the aircraft, but Bruce made it work. Once the hatch buzzed and opened, the scientist was peeking outside the door and gaping at the trio. “Really? Something always goes wrong, what did I say? Come on, I already adjusted one of the seats into a stretcher for transporting.” 

The process of laying Peter on the seat and strapping him in by his chest felt like an eternity. The seatbelts burned his sensitive skin, the pleather only accentuated the way his suit was stuck to his skin by sweat, slick, and tears, and the way he was forced to lay down when all he wanted was to curl up and press the empty pit in his stomach away was frustrating. His fingers instead found the edges of the seat and drove the tips into the sides, his strength too sapped to make even an indent. Things had started to feel more and more like a horrible nightmare. Bruce was a voice far off in his mind, then suddenly he was standing over Peter, his hands blurred but clearly holding something. There was a cold press of metal against the inner skin of his arm, a sharp sting, and after a few more seconds...nothing. 

Peter was numb to everything but the overwhelming fire sweltering in his limbs. He panicked briefly, struggling against the binds keeping him pinned, before there was a firm pressure on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay, Spider-Man. You’ll be okay.” Bruce murmured in his ear, his voice soft and comforting, and for a moment Peter believed him. “It’s just sedatives. Sleep.” 

The heat never faded, but Peter’s desperation began to. A warm blanket of darkness shrouded him as his eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and the pain really did begin to ebb away. Until finally he passed out altogether into a forced sleep that was bound to be restless. 

*

Wade had abandoned the idea of being an alpha long ago. While he may not have been able to completely erase his second gender, he had decided not to let his biology define him. It had started when he was in middle school, a young, troubled kid from Toronto- 

{I thought we were from Montreal?} 

[Um, no, we’re from Ottawa] 

“Let’s just say Toronto!” Wade groaned, dropping his chin back onto his fist, his elbow firmly planted in the arm of his Quinjet seat. His outburst earned him a confused expression from Bruce and Steve, packed into the tiny cockpit, but they made no comment. Luckily, Peter was still passed out and looking like a hot mess, and had missed out on his self-pitying autobiography. 

But anyways, back to his story. 

As a young, troubled kid from Whogivesafuck, Gold Ol’ Canada, Wade had been one of the unlucky ones to present when he was the ripe age of 12. Most kids weren’t made aware of their biology until they were 13 or 14, so being the only 6th grader with biceps and a changing voice made him an easy target. It wasn’t all bad; the omega girls in middle school thought they were destined to be with him, the betas and alphas wanted to be him, health classes were almost entirely centered around alphas with strong biology like him, and future mates that would want to be under him. 

Unfortunately, this also came with very unwanted attention from certain family members, which he had long pushed from his jumbled and twisted memories. Despite all this, Wade had decided to say ‘Fuck it’ to his anatomical destiny by 8th grade. He had lived with the title of ‘Pure Alpha’ on his back since before he could tie his shoes (he was a slow learner, and preferred velcro), while the other prepubescents had the fortune to develop their own identities before nature came in and screwed up their plans. He had begun to hate the sexual characteristics that developed on his body, determining the way he had to spend his time in bed years before he even wanted to be in bed. So in the spirit of Veronica Sawyer and Jason Dean, he blew up his school and took off on the run. Or Maaaaaaaybe that wasn’t how the movie ended, and Wade really just left a nasty, steaming goodbye present on his principal’s desk rather than committed mass murder, but that’s how he liked to remember it. 

Growing up as a mercenary, Wade was subjected to meeting people of various backgrounds and identities. He’d learned early on he was pansexual, and he lived this out to its fullest. Sometimes he spent nights with betas, sometimes with other alphas, and of course he didn’t discriminate against omegas. Heats, ruts, he’d experienced it all. Through all this time, however, he never let his second gender tell him who to fall in love with. He never allowed his hormones to dictate what hole he put or took it in, and had stopped paying attention to the biological needs until the title of alpha didn’t seem to fit him anymore. 

It wasn’t until Wade met Spider-Man that his ruts had started to come back with a vengeance. 

Spider-Man was... everything. He was strong, he was independent. He was small, yet fierce, and watching him fight was a constant reminder that he could snap Wade’s neck with one hand if he ever provoked him far enough. He was also a beta, and when Wade had all but imprinted on a beta who absolutely hated his guts, he thought he must have found what true love was. There were no pheromones for Wade to be drawn in by, and no promise of reproduction that would set his Alpha side on fire. There was just Spider-Man, and he was everything Wade had dreamt to have. 

And then Wade was allowed to meet Peter and every amazing thing he had noticed about Spider-Man was inflated. Peter was incredibly attractive, though younger than Wade had assumed-

{His innocence is sexy}

[I have to agree] 

For once, Wade gave a small nod in approval. 

But back to Wade’s story. 

Yadda, Yadda, Peter was astonishingly and breathtakingly adorable. And Wade couldn’t help thinking that, when they had the small chance to get close, there was always a hint of raspberries and sugar cookies. He always assumed he was just very hygienic, and had always meant to ask what shampoo he used that gave his hair that light tint of sweet-smelling goodness. 

Now, the sugar cookies occupied the space of the small quinjet, and Wade was just barely keeping himself in control. 

His fingernails dug between scars, lifting the chapped skin and drawing blood out of the engravings that formed. His hands were shaking, and the pain was the only thing keeping his mind in check. Feet from him was an omega in heat- no, Peter in heat - and everything in his fucked up mind was telling him to jump the whimpering kid. But his frozen tundra of a heart that still possessed rational thoughts reminded him that he could never hurt his Spidey, especially not when he was so vulnerable. Wade could feel his distress from here, could taste his anxiety in the air, and he would never betray his feelings by touching him when he was down. 

Unless Peter wanted him to, of course. Because, holy Mother Mary, Wade wanted to do so many unspeakable things to that boy. 

“How much longer?” Wade squeaked from his seat, his normal humor absent from his voice. He was glad Bruce was a beta, and Steve was a bonded alpha, because Wade was ready to tear off the face of anyone who even looked at his Peter. 

“About 5 minutes. We’re heading to the nearest SHIELD approved facility. It’s small, but it’ll be secure.” Bruce promised from the pilot’s chair, his eyes flicking up to glance back at Wade. “Your rut isn’t going to make you do anything irrational, is it? You seem to have decent control, all things considered.”

“Yup. I’m dandy. A perfect 5/7. Totally in control. In amazing goddamn control of my body.” Wade forced out the last part with a hiss, clamping his nails a layer deeper into his skin. Blood pearled against his fingertips, but it helped him to curb his wandering thoughts once more. “But if this jet can go any faster I would really really appreciate it.” 

“If you start to slip, just let me know.” Steve murmured, and Wade could sense every muscle in his body tensing. He knew they didn’t trust him, still saw him as a psychotic threat, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

At least they thought about him. It was flattering, really. 

{I wonder if Captain America has a shirtless poster of us on his wall, too.}

[Maybe a butcher house does. They can show off the finest ground beef Canada has to offer]

“Hah, they should see our coc-” 

Wade’s bloodshot eyes jerked up to Peter when he heard a moan escape his mouth, checking for any evidence he was awake. His breathing wasn’t completely even, but he wasn’t hyperventilating like earlier, so he probably was still under. That was good. He didn’t want to watch Peter suffer any more than he had. 

And it wasn’t because he was an omega. Wade was sure of that. Despite the fact that Peter wasn’t a beta, and that had been one of the defining factors making him notice he had started to catch feelings, he still knew his love was organically sourced. But because of this, listening to him clearly in pain was twice as hard. 

Peter breathed another groan, shifting underneath the binds keeping him pinned. Wade took a soft inhale of the raspberry sugar cookies and closed his eyes. Only a few more minutes. He could sit still for that much longer. 

{No we can’t.}

“Shut up.”

Chapter Text

Peter was drained by the time he started to come to. 

Waking up had started mentally more so than physically, his groggy consciousness dragging itself back to reality. The first thing he registered was how overwhelmingly loud the room was to his sensitive ears, beeps sounding every so often that hit like lightning strikes, and chatter outside the doors that was obnoxious to his tired mind. Eventually his sense of smell came back, a putrid scent filling the room and suffocating him, followed by his ability to feel and properly form a thought. His stomach was tight, almost as if he’d gotten punched in the gut, and every muscle in his body felt like he had run a marathon and had forgotten to untense. 

He couldn’t quite remember why he was so sore, and a soft groan made its way up his throat when he tried to move to readjust to a more comfortable position. Only then did someone cough next to him, making his movements still. One heavy eyelid slipped open, the lights reflecting off white walls and bearing down on his cornea. He had to squint before he could finally make out the silhouette of the person at his side, Bruce Banner’s worn face slowly coming into existence. 

“Wha-” 

His throat was shot, Peter realized as he swallowed back his breathy question. Panic again flooded his chest, and he jolted to full alertness a second later. Oh no. The memories were coming back in droves, and shame set in. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not this way. He had humiliated himself in front of everyone, jeopardized the mission, outed himself, had to be saved, and-

“Hey, Peter. You’re okay. Calm down.” 

A hand rested gently on his ankle, and Peter turned up to look at Tony Stark, standing at the end of whatever bed he was resting on. His breath stuttered, and Mr Stark seemed to sense his discomfort as he drew his arm back a second later. 

“M-Mr. Stark.” Peter stammered out, not even recognizing the sound of his own voice. The fact made him uncomfortable. He didn’t feel at all like himself. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.. To…”

“You’re okay, kid.” Mr Stark sighed, folding his arms as he gave Peter his space to not feel so smothered. “You tried to tell me you didn’t feel safe going, and I should have listened to you and gotten SHIELD off your back about it. I've been taking my own stress out on you all week. I just wish you had been honest with me. You could have been seriously hurt.” 

Peter guiltily looked down to his hands, taking in his current location. He was in a bed that seemed similar to a gurney, his suit still on his body, though it had been disengaged so it hung loosely on his frame. The walls and the tiles were white, but he was sure he wasn’t at an actual hospital. Probably just a specialized medical facility. His forehead was sweaty and his cheeks were hot, but the breeze from the vent above his head was helping to cool him down. 

Breeze from the vent…? 

Peter’s fingers jerked up to touch his face, his spandex gloves coming into contact with his cheeks. His mask was gone. Oh shit. His mask was gone.  

“Sorry, Spider-Man.” Bruce shifted on the stool he was plopped on, but his tone did nothing to quell Peter’s panic. “We didn’t want to take it off, but we had to make sure you weren’t reacting badly to any of the medications. You really did a number on your body with all of the suppressants. You’re lucky you didn’t crash harder, enter heat shock, or have a heart attack.” 

“What about my identity? And SHIELD?” Peter whispered, eyes darting between the two men. 

“Tony already assured that this room couldn’t be accessed by anyone without clearance, and video surveillance is down. He’s keeping track on his tablet to be sure the system doesn’t refresh.” Bruce smiled, patting Peter's foot like he was a child worried over nothing, which made him wince. “We’re doing everything we can to help you. We just need you to trust us, too.” 

“How long was I out?” Peter mumbled, pulling the blanket covering him higher up his chest, self consciously. 

“Not long. A few hours. Your heat isn’t over, if that’s what you’re asking. I just gave you a very small dosage of suppressants so that we could talk to you when you woke up. Considering how aggressively your body has been fighting them off, I’m not sure how much time we have left.”

“Oh.” Peter sucked in a shaky breath, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple to pacify the aching in his head. “So you’re...not sending me home? I’m a liability, aren’t I?” 

Mr Stark sighed, leaning back to half rest on the table pressed against the furthest wall. “Unfortunately, your skillset is still required. If I could send you back to ride this out in peace, I would, but we need you for the next part of the mission.” 

“Besides, omegas in heat can’t fly.” Bruce added. 

Peter slowly nodded, his hands automatically moving to cup his abdomen. He wasn’t excited for his symptoms to come back, especially not when he was trapped in the butthole of Russia with all of the people he’d idolized for years. 

“So…Ignoring the conversation of how the hell you’ve managed to hide the fact that you’re an omega from me for years, and why your suit’s A.I. never alerted me to that fact,” Mr Stark cleared his throat, suddenly looking rather uncomfortable. “How… do you usually make it through heats?” 

Peter’s eyes bulged and he nearly choked on his own breath, straightening up immediately. “ What? ” 

“You’re gonna have to spend it here, and obviously we want to make it as comfortable as possible.” Tony grunted, looking nearly as embarrassed by the question as Peter.

“Oh uh…” Peter could feel his face turning a darker shade of red, humiliation creeping up his neck. “I don’t know. I spent a lot passed out. I don’t even remember half of them.” He admitted. 

“Passed out? Why?” 

“Umm...they’re just more intense than normal. My Aunt always gets worried, and takes me to a nurse I know in Hell’s Kitchen. She’s the only one who knows who- and what- I am.” Peter mumbled, sitting back against the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. “I usually only remember the beginning and the end clearly. Other than that they just seem to go on forever.”

Bruce and Mr Stark shared a look, as Mr Stark cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Pete, have you…ever shared your heat with an alpha?” 

Peter paused, then slowly shook his head. “N-No, um... My friend tried to help me out once. But she’s a beta, and it really didn’t work.” He muttered, rubbing his upper arm. “I went to a specialist when I was 18 when they first started to get bad.  I guess I was supposed to start getting help as soon as possible, but...I never could track or plan it accurately. With my Spider powers and all, it’s pretty erratic. I only really know approximately what week it’ll land on.” 

“Listen,” Bruce settled in closer, his tone going more serious, as he leaned in to talk to Peter directly. “Suppressants are dangerous, and should be avoided unless you absolutely need them. You pumped yourself with a month’s worth in just a few days. You’re going to go through a withdrawal period, on top of everything else, and this heat is probably going to be severe. Possibly even dangerous.” He sucked in a breath, as Peter let the information sink in. Shit. He knew there were going to be consequences, but he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “You may want to consider an alpha to help you through it. Otherwise… I can’t promise it’ll only last a few days. It could very well last up to 2 weeks, and you’ll likely be on fluids and too exhausted to move before it’s even halfway over. We’re moving to Cabo once the weekend is over. It’d be preferable- and safer- to have you going with us.” 

“An alpha?” Peter’s heart rate spiked nervously at the thought of anyone seeing him in that vulnerable of a state. “Who?” 

There was a knock on the window that halted their conversation, and before permission could be granted for the person to enter, Wade busted down the door. His arms were loaded with plastic bags and food, blankets pouring out the sides of the totes and a pair of pajamas were strewn on his shoulder. The smell of five different restaurants poured from the take-out boxes, masking the scent of heat Peter was so disgusted by. 

“Hey, Petey-Pie, you’re awake!” Wade’s tone was giddy, yet the hint of worry was still present in his voice. He tried to drop the clutter onto the nightstand, but a few bags tumbled to the floor in a jumble. “Oops. I didn’t know what you were hungry for, so I got everything that was open.” He reached up to his shoulder and dragged the pajamas off, setting them down gingerly onto Peter’s lap. “And those hospital gowns are like fucking sandpaper, so I guessed on your size so you could be comfortable when you went.” 

Peter looked up at Wade, startled, as he picked up the pair of fuzzy pajamas Wade had left. “Thanks, dude.” He said, his eyes softening at the considerate gesture. The fact that he’d gone to such lengths sat warmly in his stomach. He knew that Wade was just like that- gentle and caring with those that he was close with- but that didn’t stop his heart from fluttering in its beats.

Peter didn’t want to stare too long, self conscious of the fact that Wade could always read right through him, and as far as he was aware, he had hidden his feelings pretty well, and he glanced back to where Tony and Bruce were staring back at Peter in a knowing way. He straightened. “You mean Wade?” 

“Wade what now?” The man in question asked, poking his head up.

Mr Stark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “He’s not my first choice, and I argued against it, especially not when considering your safety and his...unstableness.” 

“Aww, thanks, Tincan. Even if I have no idea what’s going on.” Wade cooed. 

Mr Stark cleared his throat in annoyance, folding his arms as he continued. “But Bruce is insistent that you trust each other to some degree. And he very clearly...cares.” 

“It’s your decision, Spider-Man.” Bruce added gently. “We can always take you to a heat facility and they can pair you with an anonymous helping hand. But from a medical standpoint, I don’t think it would be safe for you to try to go through this alone, even with monitoring.” 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Wade held his hands up in a way to take back their attention, halting all conversation between them. “You want who’s-it to do what’s-it to who’s-now?”

“It’s not up to us. If you’re not comfortable with this Spider-Man, we’ll find another way. This would just be the safest route for you. But we can leave you two alone to discuss it.” Bruce smiled, crossing to the door with Mr Stark in tow. “There’s no pressure on you. Just be aware of the time constraint.” 

The door squeaking closed left Peter and Wade bathed in an air of awkward silence, neither of them making any attempt to move. That was, until Peter felt a cramp jostle his organs and he moved to grip his stomach, a soft whimper escaping his lips. Wade responded immediately, sprinting to his side and feeling his forehead through leather gloves. “You really scared me there, Pete.” Wade whispered, hovering even after Peter had shaken his head to show he was okay. “I told you you couldn’t keep that up. I’m just glad that douchenut didn’t get the chance to hurt you before I got there.” He carefully sat on the side of the bed, his fingers and legs twitching like he was nervous. “...about what they said.” 

“Y-yeah…” Peter looked up at Wade, his eyes exploring the mask of his suit for a moment. A weird tinge of excitement bloomed in his stomach, hot and giddy, and his teeth tugged on his lip.

He wanted Wade. He'd had a crush on him for years, however small and unrecognizable it was at first. Peter had ignored it for so long, it felt like the natural thing to do. If he pretended it didn't exist, they could have a normal friendship. He'd never have to complicate his life further with feelings or loss, or revealing the fact that he was an omega to a man who never openly recognized his own alpha identity. But things already were more complicated . Wade knew he was an omega. Wade got him off. He took care of him. He'd always been so good at taking care of Peter when he couldn't take care of himself, and Peter felt like he was finally waking up to the fact that he didn't just have a crush on Wade, but he really really liked him and the way he made Peter feel. 

“I can’t put you through that, Petey.” Wade murmured, interrupting Peter's thoughts. He dropped his masked chin on his hand, staring at the tiles lining the floor. “I don’t want you to need that because I’m an alpha. I don’t want you to wake up disgusted with your choices or.. Or hating me. If you wanted that from me, it has to be because you wanted me. Not because you just needed a friendly hand to jerk you off.” 

“W-Wait, I never even agreed to anything yet.” Peter frowned, rejection hanging hot over his head. “But, really? After everything that happened over this week, you’re gonna give me that answer?” 

Wade twisted his head to look back. “Huh?”

“You kinda already were the helping hand that jerked me off. Like multiple times.” Peter muttered, crossing his arms heavily over his chest. “In case you forgot.” 

“Riiiight.” Wade said innocently, rocking uncomfortably on top of the bed. "One time was before I knew you were an omega, though.” 

“Do you not like omegas?” 

Wade seemed to freeze, and Peter’s skin broke out in goosebumps. Why had he asked that? Somehow, getting rejected by Wade right now, after everything, felt more awful than the humiliation he’d been facing. 

He had really thought….

“I think you’re misunderstanding, Spidey.” Wade finally said in a guarded tone. “It’s not that...that you being an omega changes anything about how downright mesmerizing you are. But I don’t think you realize what you’re getting yourself into. I’m not the alpha you want. And trust me, it has nothing to do with you.” 

“Then what is it?” Peter breathed, his throat dry. 

“I want to do...so many things to you. I won’t lie and say it’s not the only thing I thought about all the way over here. But I know that’s not what you’re about. I know this means a hell of a lot more to you than just giving it up with something like me.” Wade gestured vaguely, like he could just point out something obvious Peter was missing. “Not that finally getting to see you out of your clothes doesn't fulfill every fantasy I've had for the past 3 years. But I know you’re looking at the only option and settling-” 

“You’re not the only option.” Peter cut in, gripping the blankets in front of him in frustration. “You’re the option I want. I-I want it to be you. Even if there were a hundred other people here I could ask to help me, Wade I-” 

A sharp cramp cut through his abdomen, so violent it had him lurching as nausea raced to meet him once more. Peter choked on his unsaid words that were replaced by a pitiful gasp, his hands shaking as they reached to claw his suit further down his chest and arms. 

“Pete.”

Peter drug heady eyes up to look at Wade, blinking back tears that blurred his vision. He could see the alpha staring at him, though he couldn’t see his face through the mask. His scent that had been permeating his senses all week seemed to be growing in intensity. Changing. It was intoxicating. 

“I think it’s starting to hit you again.” 

“I-I figured.” Peter croaked, his eyes screwing shut. The fever that had warmed the back of his neck was spreading. His back was damp with sweat and he could feel it sinking deeper into his skin, filling him to the core with hotness. 

“I’ll help you.” Wade moved to sit on the bed, hesitant hands hovering over Peter’s trembling shoulders as if he was afraid to break him. “But I need you to say it, out loud, that you want this. That you won’t regret this.” 

“Mmph, Wade, please, just -”

“I’m serious. It's easy to ignore all the shit I got going on when I'm blowing you with your eyes closed, but I'm not going to fuck you unless you know it's something you really, really want."

Peter mustered the sanity and energy he had left and reached up to clutch onto Wade’s gloved fingers. He knew he wasn’t in full-swing yet, but at the rate it was starting to become agonizing, he was terrified of the wave to come. “I want you to do it with me." He whispered, his resolve breaking to the point he’d beg if he had to. “I need it to be you.” 

Wade flinched, but he finally seemed to be convinced. “Thank Holy Oprah.” He scooted in closer, though still not near enough Peter could lean into him. “Okay, first things first. You need out of that suit before you have a heat-stroke.” 

Nothing had ever sounded like a better idea to Peter. With a shaky breath he dropped the blanket from his shoulders and shifted forward. Almost immediately, the strong scent of slick started to drift unfiltered through the room, making Peter make a noise of embarrassment. His head was swimming, and a heaviness had begun to take over, making him feel mentally exhausted though his skin was alight with sensitivity. His body ached, every muscle seemingly tensing, and before he knew it he was at a loss for air. 

“It’s okay, Petey. I’ll help you.” 

Peter hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes in focus until Wade was undressing him, and they snapped open. A pleasant wave of cold air drifted over his sweaty skin, starting from the back of his neck, dancing over every inch as his suit was pulled off further. He watched Wade’s gentle movements, tugging his gloves off finger-by-finger, spandex slipping down his arms. He was careful not to touch him too terribly much, though occasionally his gloved fingertips brushed over his arms and made him jolt. 

But then the first wave of real throbbing torture impaled his stomach, just as Wade managed to pull the suit off down to his hips, and he doubled over with a strangled shout of alarm. 

Pain was....simple. Peter could deal with pain. He’d been dealing with it his entire life, between bullies pushing him around, to broken arms from bad altercations, to lacerations that took up the expanse of his stomach from monstrous enemies. But this particular agony was incomparable; there wasn’t a word to describe how deeply he felt it. His bones started to throb. His stomach felt like it was being torn open.  He was suffocating from the flood of tears that couldn’t be stopped. There was no pleasure to his whimpers. Only pure, unadulterated torment. 

“Should I get someone?” Wade was speaking to him, but it was far off. He leaned further forward, his weight pressing into his thighs. Fingers brushed through Peter’s hair, and even the slight tug on his damp curls made his stomach flip. “This seems really bad, baby. Can’t they give you pain relievers, o-or fever reducers or-” 

“D-Don’t leave.” Peter’s voice was already wearied, his body already fatigued from the week of being denied its natural processes. He drug his eyelids open to look up at Wade with distress, overwhelmed by the sensations already tearing through him. “I need you.” 

Wade seemed to take stock of Peter’s health, staring at him for much longer than Peter would have liked. He relented the idea of calling for someone, and reclaimed the space between Peter’s legs. “Tell me the second it gets worse.” 

“It’s worse.” Peter hissed, but Wade pushed him back by his chest into the pillows to give himself space to pull his suit and boxers off all the way. 

The relief Peter felt when he was freed completely from his suit was immeasurable, but the cold air did nothing to cool down his burning skin. His breathing was erratic in his chest, and his lungs felt starved of oxygen. Each jerk of his hips and curl of his thighs made slick seep out of him onto the sheets of the medical gurney. Every muscle ached and he already felt completely exhausted. Wade didn’t ask anything trying of him, instead pushing and dragging his body until his ass was flush up against his hips, which were hidden underneath leather. 

Fuck , the leather burned. 

Peter grit his teeth and made a dizzy sound of discomfort, which seemed to halt Wade entirely, and gave him room to speak. “Take off your suit, W-Wade.” 

“What?” Wade went frozen, his hands gripping bruisingly on sensitive thighs. “Sweetie, angel, beautiful Pete, that’s not something you want.” 

“I’ve seen you- ow- without clothes a thousand times.” Peter chastised, his voice completely unrecognizable to himself now. He sounded desperate, and winded, and so pathetic he wanted to cry. But tears were already spilling on his cheeks from how badly he wanted the pain to stop, and acting strong was the last thing on his mind. “P-Please, Wade.” 

Still, Wade held tight and didn’t quite respond. Not at first. But after a moment that seemed to stretch on for a millennium, he lowered Peter’s legs back to the bed and slipped off to give himself space to undress. “Anything you want, Spidey.” 

Wade was moving in the room, shifting and dragging himself out of the suit at a slower pace than Peter would have liked. Peter laid dizzily staring up at the fluorescents burning in the ceiling, taking stock of himself. He wasn’t about to admit to Wade he was a virgin, knowing the man would absolutely lose it if he knew he was taking his first time. He was admittedly nervous, but more desperate to have anything inside of him, so his nerves were paled in comparison. 

And finally- finally - Wade made it back to the gurney and it squeaked as he clambered onto it to pull Peter against his body. 

Ridged skin that felt distinctly like Wade brushed up against Peter’s back and then slowly enveloped him. Shy arms laced over his cramping stomach and Wade’s scent was more obvious now, pouring directly from the source. He was an inhalant and Peter felt instantly addicted. 

“Beautiful Petey Pie,” Wade whispered into Peter’s ear, his voice low and rigid, like he expected Peter to send him away. “I can smell how much pain you’re in. I feel like I’m being gutted.” 

“Uh-huh.” Peter hissed, pressing his throbbing hips back against Wade. His chest heaved with effort to breathe properly. “S-So why are you just sitting there?” 

“Because I can’t imagine this-” Wade held his fingers up for display in front of Peter’s face, wriggling the textured scars just in front of his eyes. Was he trying to scare him away? It wasn't working. Peter had never thought his scars deterred from his attractiveness. “Feels too good.” 

“God, I-I don’t just want your fingers.” Peter grit his teeth as his stomach curled, and he gripped hard on the sheet. Why was he waiting for so long? Peter didn’t want to enter his full heat. Not when it was growing so rapidly. He grinded his hips back more insistently against Wade’s clothed hard on. “I need you .” 

Wade swallowed behind Peter’s ear, the sound that seemed loudest thus far, and then his arms tightened on his abdomen and Wade rolled him onto his stomach. He shoved Peter’s legs clumsily and insistent so that his ass was displayed to the rest of the room, and Wade disappeared momentarily just to reposition himself, shoving his boxers down his thighs. “You’re so fucking hot, Spidey.” he breathed, sounding slightly wrecked. “I can’t control myself around you.” Teeth drug burningly over Peter’s lower body and then a hot length pushed firmly into Peter so quick, he didn’t even register the shout that escaped him. 

Peter came to on his back to see Wade’s concerned expression, hands holding onto his cheek and massaging his face to entice his consciousness. He didn’t recall blacking out, only registered the faint ghost of a horribly sharp orgasm the second Wade entered him. When his eyes fluttered open Wade smiled in guilty relief. “I thought I lost you there, baby. You feeling better?” 

“No.” Peter clawed onto the bed. He shivered around Wade’s intrusion, his muscles contracting around him sorely. It hurt, and he felt split apart, but a small part of him finally started to feel better. Like scratching a horrible itch he couldn’t reach on his own. “I still need-” 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Wade said roughly, and gently released Peter’s face. His hands found Peter’s hips instead, gripping tightly onto him. “You feel like fucking heaven. ” 

Wade drew out of him testingly- probably to make sure he wouldn’t have any more fainting spells or empty orgasms- and made the gurney squeal lewdly as he rocked into him with barely repressed strength. 

“Oh...Oh god. Oh shit.” Peter shoved a handful of sheet against his lips to muffle his prayers of utter pleasure and pain. The emptiness Peter couldn’t quite put a name to felt like it was brimming with fire- both good and bad- with each thrust Wade made. He was torn between euphoria and torment, so intense both ways tears spilled down his cheeks. His hips felt broken open and the metal seemed to barely hold up under both of their weights. Peter squeezed at the bars and they bent easily in his grip, but it wasn’t quite enough. He couldn’t escape the mixture of stimulation, no matter how much he cried, gasped, and let Wade tear him open. 

“Keep making those noises, baby boy.” Wade said- more like ordered - him to do in a growl. “I’ve never heard anything so good.” 

Peter whimpered back in reply, barely cognitive. 

“You’re an absolute angel.” 

Peter’s stomach convulsed, and another climax twisted his organs. 

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you, sweetums. I don’t deserve this.” 

“W-Wade-” 

“I never wanna hear anyone say my name but you ever again.” 

“G-God, Wade, I’m gonna-” 

“Cum, Petey. Loudly. I want the entire fucking building to hear how addicting you are.” 

Wade thrust another assaulting pound into Peter and his hand closed around Peter’s weeping erection, and suddenly Peter was doing as he told him to. The world went utterly still as Peter came, sobbing into the sheets and shaking until he was nothing, couldn’t remember another feeling other than belonging utterly to Wade, being made to feel this intensely by Wade. He couldn’t hear his own cries- they were too far off, and Peter’s head was alight with fireworks- but Wade’s ran his fingers of Peter’s lips after a few seconds encouragingly.

Peter wasn’t sure how long his orgasm lasted, but he rode it out until Wade was suddenly cumming as well, jacking Peter off well past the time he should be done. They stayed together in perpetual suspension as Peter’s body released a week of desire and desperation, until finally, slowly, reality melted back into Peter’s bones and he collapsed entirely against the wet gurney. 

Wade called his name, gently, but Peter was unable to respond or open his eyes. He gave into the sweet desire of exhaustive sleep, his heartbeat echoing throughout every inch of his body, until he collapsed into the best rest he’d ever had in his life. 

*

The first thing Peter took note of when he woke up was that he was sore, bathed clean of sweat, cum, and slick, and in a change of the pajamas Wade had brought him earlier. Which meant Wade must have cleaned him up at some point during his coma-like sleep. 

The second thing he noticed was that he was alone. The spot where Wade had been curled against him was empty, and when Peter’s fingers pressed against the blanket, it was cold. He didn’t know where he had gone, but he hoped he’d at least be back soon. The thought of a wave of heat hitting him when he was alone was enough to make a knot form in the back of his throat, and he didn’t want to even consider the possibility. 

The third thing he realized was that he had been woken up by something , and that something was a firm, steady knock on the door of his room. He blinked up at the white wood and considered not answering it for a solid few seconds, defensively sinking back into the covers. Maybe the person would go away if they thought he was still asleep. There was only one person he wanted to see at the moment, anyways. 

The knocking paused, and Peter thought  whoever was outside might leave, until a voice spoke up. “Spider-Man? It’s Steve and Sam. Are you awake?” 

Peter’s eyes widened at the voice of Captain America, and he gulped down a nervous breath. He had forgotten there were other Avengers here, especially Steve, who he really needed to thank. The man had carried him out of the building and helped transport him back to the SHIELD base. He at least owed him answering the door. “Yeah, one second.” He called, his voice sounding tired and meek. 

Peter crawled out of bed and wrapped a blanket gingerly around his aching shoulders, pulling it on as quickly as he could without toppling over. He eventually managed to tame his wavy bedhead, threw soiled sheets into a pile in the corner of the room, and unlocked the deadbolt on the door. He luckily wasn’t suffering from heat symptoms at the moment, but he had no idea how quickly they would return. 

When he drew the door open he was met with Steve and Sam as promised, dressed down to comfortable loungewear, holding a stack of blankets and a basket of basic toiletries. Peter sucked in a shaky breath, feeling heat creeping up his neck at the sight of the two. God, he felt so pathetic. “Hey, guys.” He said awkwardly, shifting as he rubbed his arm. “What’s up?” 

“We wanted to bring you fresh supplies.” Steve said in his firm-but warm- fatherly voice that always made Peter feel like he was being lectured. “Deadpool stepped out to debrief with Coulson, but he should be back soon. Are you feeling alright?” 

“All things considered, I’m not terrible.” Peter flushed, reaching out to take the blankets and basket from them to tuck behind him in the room. “Um, I’m sorry.” He muttered, running a hand through his tangled hair. Standing in front of them without a mask was still sending warning pulses to his head, but as far as he knew, everyone on the team knew his identity by then. “I know I really, really messed up. I feel horrible about ruining the mission and-” 

“They were going to find out we were there one way or another. You just made them find out a little early.” Sam said in an uncharacteristically reassuring way, though his mouth was still flat and his face still intimidating. “Everything went fine. We got the intel we needed, and we can move on when possible." 

“Besides, Spider-Man, we’ve all been in similar situations.” Steve said as he placed a soft hand on his shoulder. “Back when I was a teenager, we didn’t have regulators or suppressants for heats. I’ve definitely fallen into a few at inconvenient times.” 

Peter’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell into a gape. “You’re an omega?” 

“Shocking, right?” Sam jutted in, crossing his arms. 

“Yes, I was born an omega. Not exactly one now.” Steve sighed lightly, though Peter was still trying to wrap his mind around the big man in front of him not being an alpha. “It had to do with the serum used, but it created a...pseudo identity. My body started to present as an alpha, and my heats stopped altogether. I’ll have one every few years at random, but for the most part I’m no longer an omega.” 

“Huh.” Peter pursed his lips, digesting the information at his own groggy pace. “The more you know.” 

“I had the same reaction.” Sam chuckled, bumping his shoulder up against Steve’s as the other looked away in embarrassment. “Anyways, we wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You were in pretty bad shape two days ago, and of course any time spent alone with Deadpool is a risk. Is everything...going smoothly?” 

Peter’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, if he hadn’t been completely and utterly red faced before. Why did old men have to ask such embarrassing questions? He swallowed back a squawk of embarrassment and pressed a hand to his cheek to discreetly hide his flush. “Yup, uh-huh, totally fine.” He said quickly, Sam’s following smirk making Peter irrationally want to punch him in the eye. “I trust Wade, and it’s not hurting as bad as it was the first day so… things are fine. As fine as they can be.” 

“ Fine, he says.” Sam snorted and nodded for Peter to step out of the doorway so the two of them could join him behind closed doors. “Deadpool skipped out of these doors like he’d found his paradise, and Spider-Man is just fine.” 

“Come on, this is a big deal for omegas. “ Steve shushed him, finding a seat in the chair Bruce had been in the first time Peter came to. He regarded Peter carefully, gaze flickering across his weak frame. “You were out for a while. You’re sure you’re feeling alright? Deadpool is treating you fine?” 

“Wade is totally okay.” Peter said quickly. The insinuation that he was capable of hurting Peter made him feel weird. “I’m just tired, honestly, and I want this to be over. This bed kinda sucks and I don’t want to be a liability.” 

“We don’t see you that way, Spider-Man.” Steve promised, waving at Sam to stand so he could herd him towards the exit. “If the bed is the issue, we'll talk with Coulson and see about getting your back in the other room. For now we'll give you your space.” 

“I wanted to hear more about how okay Deadpool is.” Sam protested, giving Peter a smug grin that made his annoyance spike. 

“Ow,” Peter said with a flat expression, clutching at his stomach fakely. “I think I’m hitting another wave. You better go get Deadpool, or I’ll-” 

“Yep, yep, we’re leaving.” Sam shook his head. Just before the door shut, Peter heard him say to Steve, “That kid is a piece of work.”

Chapter Text

Peter looked up from the gurney when the lock on the door beeped, a small jangle rattling it before Wade pushed it open. He was back in his Deadpool get-up minus the majority of his weapons, save for a mostly concealed handgun tucked in the holster of his thigh. Wade stopped in his tracks when he saw Peter, laid on his side on the bed with his phone in his hands and wearing the pajamas that Wade had bought him, 2 of the takeout boxes empty on the table. After a second the lenses on his eyes animatedly crinkled with a smile.

As anxious as Peter thought he would be to see Wade after they'd had sex, he didn't feel all that mortified. He sat up on the mattress, the corners of his lips tipping up. Along with Wade's appearance came his scent that had comforted Peter through his trip, and the instant gratification of safety swarmed his head. Logically, he knew it was a chemical reaction generated by the compatibility of their biological characteristics, but it didn't change the fact that being in the same room as Wade just felt good. 

"Didn't mean to come back so late, pumpkin." Wade chirped and shut the door behind him. He double checked that the two food boxes were empty, giving a satisfied nod. "Hope I didn't leave you for too long." 

Peter took stock of his health. There was a pricking warmth buzzing on his skin that had grown a bit hotter since he'd woken up, but it wasn't that bad. The horniness hadn't become too obvious, and the current calm was the longest reprieve Peter had ever had in his life. After a second he shook his head. "I feel fine right now." He said honestly. "I guess a little sore, but it's not that bad. I don't know how long until it all starts again, though." 

Wade picked up the spilled blankets and shoved them in a pile on the stool. "We should get moving, then." He said, tilting his mask back at Peter. "Got the love-making room all fitted for the using. I came to get you so we can move you somewhere more comfortable." 

Peter's cheeks flamed, and after a second he shoved himself to his feet. He wasn't perfectly steady, but the trembling of his knees wouldn't send him falling to the ground any time soon. "Yeah, that sounds a hundred times better than the gurney." He agreed. "Do you have my mask? It was fine walking around when it wasn't obvious who I was but...I should probably be more careful." 

"Got it covered." Deadpool reached into one of his many pockets on his suit, drawing out a pink surgical mask with kittens on the front. He walked forward towards Peter and stretched the elastic strings up over his ears, tucking them in gently. His fingertips brushed the sensitive skin just at the crook of his neck, and Peter visibly shuddered. 

The way Wade tensed had Peter's breath catching. Neither of them mentioned the way that their relationship had changed in a night. 

Peter tilted his head down to readjust the surgical mask, and Wade fetched one of his oversized baseball caps to sit on the top of Peter's hair. He was drowning in the outfit and the hat and all, but he hoped they were close enough to the rooms that he wouldn't elicit too many stares at his ridiculous appearance. Wade grabbed a single light blanket to drape over Peter's shoulders that scented suspiciously like Wade's alpha pheromones and then led him out by a large arm that slinked down to hold just beside his flank. 

The hallway was blissfully clear around Peter's room. He trained his hearing to extend beyond the space around them, but there weren't apparent footsteps in the surrounding areas. He didn't particularly want to see any side-eyeing SHIELD agents passing by, so the silence of the building was more than fine with him.

Wade steered him down to the right, towards another uncomfortably lit expanse of tile that had hardly any discernible traits to separate it from the one they'd just come from. He seemed to know where he was going, though- or he was perfect at faking it- so Peter let his feet drag as he followed the mercenary. 

“I know we like to play this whole game of ‘not-talking-about-things’ every time we’ve touched below the waist,” Wade kept his head forward as he guided Peter down the expanse of clean smelling linoleum. “And trust me, babycakes, as much as I can talk your ear off for days, I am so for avoiding awkward conversations about feelings and all that sparkly stuff.” 

Peter tilted his head up at him, his eyebrows knitting. 

“But I think there’s a little much to unpack here after last night, and I just wanna figure out what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. I know you probably came to your senses this morning, and realized you were getting way in over your head-” 

“Wade,” Peter’s frown deepened under the mask, his voice weary of where this was heading. 

“And I totally get it if you got the relief you wanted and now you wanna find someone better. Just rip the bandaid off now, baby. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” 

“ Wade, ” Peter tried again, barely cutting through the alpha’s self-deprecating ramble. 

“I can still bring you food. Keep guard. Make sure you’re getting treated right.” Wade stopped outside one of the doors that looked just like the rest minus the number 24 printed across the top in beveled metal. He slid the pad of his gloved finger over the keyboard, typing in a fast code that unlocked it, and the door clicked to let them in. “Just like you said, it can just be a weird night and you don’t have to think about it again.” 

Peter’s hand caught the back of Wade’s shoulder, and he spun the larger man to face him. He looked taken aback for a moment, the whites of his mask growing wider. Then they narrowed, and Peter could scent the interest peaking through unabashedly. “Wade, stop talking for one second.” Peter kicked the door closed behind them, then reached up towards his face to peel the surgical mask down. With his lips free, he gave him a ridiculous smile. How was he still not getting it? “I meant everything I said.”

Since Peter had noticed his crush a year ago, he’d been scared; scared that Wade wouldn’t - couldn’t - see him the way he wanted, or that his playful flirting was just that; a game. Even after the night in the hotel room back in Scherbinka, or the time Wade had helped him sleep before the mission, the line was blurred between Wade just helping him, and Wade wanting him. 

But the one thing Peter remembered clearly from the awful wave was that Wade admitted he’d been fantasizing of a night with Peter like that for years. Probably longer than Peter had been thinking about it. 

"The part about wanting more than my fingers?" Wade asked with a doubtful weakness to his voice. Despite the years of teasing, and of flirting, and apparently actually meaning it, Wade still seemed shy and withdrawn. Like he never expected it to get this far, and he was panicking at the unexpected territory. 

Peter understood the insecurity all too well. 

"That I wanted it to be you." Peter clarified in a determined tone, his arms folding over his chest. "Heat or no heat, I wanted you to be my first time." 

The bomb had dropped and exploded with the confession, and the room went eerily silent and still. Wade's shoulders were high and frozen, and even if Peter couldn't see any of his face, he could read the guilt in the air. 

"Your what? " Wade's hand slapped up to the side of his own head like he was punishing himself. "Of course it was fucking bad." He growled, moreso to himself than Peter. "We messed it up big time. Shouldn't have assumed he'd done it just because he looks like that." 

"Wade," Peter started in a flustered tone. "It's not that big of a-" 

"Yes its a big deal!" Wade tuned back into their conversation with unexpected intensity. "You shouldn't have given that to me. And I fucked it up. You deserve flowers and dinner and the finest hotel. And I just shoved it in like a 16 year old." 

"I was barely even thinking at that point." Peter protested. "I don't care what it was like. I'm just glad you were the one to do it." 

Wade looked like Peter had stabbed him and twisted the knife, and his hand slunk down to his thigh, towards the handgun. Every inch of Peter jutted to attention, and before he really knew what he was doing, he had sprung on Wade, shoved his mask half off his face, and pulled him down by the collar of his suit to kiss him. 

Wade stopped, his hand hovering over his thigh. After a moment, his arms found Peter's waist and hugged him closer, nearly lifting him off his feet. Peter kissed him insistently until Wade started to kiss him back, nearly bending Peter in half to get closer to him. 

Finally they drew apart, breathing hot puffs of air into each other's lips, and Wade swallowed audibly. "Is it hitting again?" 

"No, not yet." Peter muttered in return, willing Wade to stop purposefully misunderstanding everything he said. "I did it because I wanted to." 

Wade gave a slow, sloppy nod, his lips moving like he was working out what to say, or possibly just listening to other opinions in his head. "You're not just messing with me." He said as a statement more than a question. 

"No," Peter said, his fingers tightening in the leather of his suit. "I'm not. I...like you." 

" Like like me?" 

Peter couldn't help a snort, and he grinned, eyes trailing up into the white abyss of Wade's lenses. "God, what are you, 12?" 

"Inches? You tell me, sweetums." Wade murmured in teasing return, his hands running up the expanse of Peter's back. "I haven't measured it since the mutation. Maybe it got more super too." 

Peter released Wade to laugh, dropping back to his feet on the floor. A lightness had taken him over, freeing him of the stress he'd been piled under for a week. A warmth had begun to build in his cheeks, and it spread to his shoulders, creeping its way down his skin. "Listen," he began, biting his lip. "It's gonna hit soon and I don't know how bad it's gonna be." He shifted on his feet. "But I wanna be like... aware when we start." 

"A redo." Wade agreed. "I don't deserve it, but dammit Petey I'm gonna show you what you should have gotten from me the first time." 

Peter couldn't help a small, flustered grin to himself, rubbing the goosebumps away on his arms. "Thanks, Wade," he murmured. 

*

Peter let out a breathy noise, shifting on the mattress as it squeaked under him. 

Wade looked up at the expression of pure exhaustion on Peter's face, guilty pity tight in his stomach. They were on their 3rd day since Peter got off the suppressants, and it had felt like an eternity had passed. Wade pressed another kiss to the inside of Peter's thigh, his fingers buried deep inside of his wet heat. Peter had been complaining of soreness for the past day- whenever he had the strength to speak, that is- so Wade had done his best to mitigate the discomfort. But when Peter's waves hit him in such quick succession, he couldn't do much to give him a break. Peter had stopped talking a few waves ago, barely conscious, but he would groan when the heats got bad enough for Wade to help out. Wade took that as the signal that Peter was ready for relief, not having much else to go off of. 

Wade pulled his fingers free gently and planted another soft kiss to Peter's stomach, carefully drawing the brunette's knees apart so he could slip his leg up around his waist. Wade was gentle when pressing in, watching Peter's face for any sign that he needed to stop. "Your scent's dying down." He murmured, pressing another kiss to Peter's inner ankle, as he rolled his hips with a heavy breath. Wade tried not to enjoy it too much, as impossible as it was. He wanted to focus on Peter. "Maybe this is the last one." 

Peter made a noise of quiet understanding, his hair stuck to his forehead from a day of sweating. His head drooped to the side, breathing picking up. 

Wade rocked himself in a steady pace, his hips bumping into Peter's gently. He could feel Peter tightening up around him, and he focused on moving in the ways he'd quickly learned Peter liked the most. The pressure was starting to build for Wade, but he didn't want to finish until his Honey Bunches of Oats did. 

"Nng," Peter whispered a quiet moan, his back arching slightly off the bed. " Wade. " 

God, was Wade weak to that sweet plead. 

Wade leaned in to press his forehead to Peter’s shoulder, rocking against him a few more times before Peter's body stiffened Wade held him through his small, dry orgasm, and his own washed over him with a pleasurable roll through his body. 

Wade slipped out and wiped his forehead, taking a long breath. Pete's heat was unlike anything he'd experienced before, and the exhaustion was creeping in. Part of him hoped they were nearing the end, just to give them both breaks. He hated to see Peter so worn down he couldn't move. 

Wade's eyes gazed down on the lithe but toned curve of Peter's body, so pliant and tired as he seemed to fall back asleep so quickly. 

[He shouldn't trust us enough to sleep in the same room.]

{You're gonna hurt him.}

[You already ruined his first time.]

Wade reached down to slip the covers up over Peter's shoulders, being sure to tuck every part of him in. Then he set to work on tossing dirty clothes in the corner with soiled blankets. 

{He won't want you when this is over.}

[He didn't even want you before.]

{This is too good to be true for a reason. It's a nightmare. Wake up.}

[Make yourself wake up.]

Wade's eyes flickered to the handgun he had slipped under the bed, just for his own comfort. 

{He just doesn't know what a mess you are yet. But he will. And he'll leave you.}

[If he gets too close, he'll see how fucked up you are.]

Wade washed his hands, and then his face for good measure, and looked up into the mirror. An ugly, disfigured mess of scars returned his gaze. A selfish, violent alpha that would only destroy Peter. 

Wade wanted Peter to mean what he said. He wanted to get to spend every morning cooking for Peter, or washing his clothes when he was at school. He wanted to go on patrol together. Adopt a dog or 5 cats. He wanted to wake up next to him and spend every moment reminding Peter that he was the best thing Wade had ever had. 

[You're temporary.]

Wade wanted Peter to be with him forever. 

*

"You seem fine." Bruce commented as he studied the screen with Peter's vitals on display. "Your hormone levels are back to a safe range and your heart seems to be normal. Your heat symptoms might linger for a few days, but they should just be uncomfortable more than disruptive to your day." He glanced back at Peter, who was sitting back on the medical gurney he had first woken up on nearly a week ago. "You feel okay?"

"Yeah, actually." Peter grinned back to him, rolling his shoulders. He was a little stiff and sore, but he'd recovered a lot better than he expected. "I don't normally feel this good the day after, but I think I'm okay." 

Tony stood with his arms crossed beside the computer, seemingly deciding whether he should believe Peter. Eventually he just shook his head, loosening up on the interrogative adult act. "I fixed your AI to report back to me on everything relevant when I run a scan." He said as he eyed him. "I only need to know when it's necessary, but I don't want you trying to hide this when you're facing guys with guns, capiche?"

Peter held up the 'okay' sign on his fingers, giving him a half-ashamed smile. "So, I'm not completely kicked off the team?" 

"Consider it a time out." Nat chided, raising an eyebrow. "We've all made stupid decisions before. Yours was still better than half of Tony's." 

Tony snorted with slight offense, but before he could defend himself, Sam spoke up. "Where's Deadpool, anyways? Shouldn't we be concerned?" 

Peter winced at the mention. He glanced up at the door, almost expecting Wade to walk through it any second. But he didn't, and that fact was disconcerting. 

He'd woken up alone, again, but this time there wasn't anything to reassure him Wade was just in a meeting. He'd vanished without even leaving a note. He had tried not to take it personally… but it wasn't working out. 

"He'd better get his ass back here before we leave tonight." Tony grunted. "I'm not going searching for him." 

"An agent saw him leaving the facility last night." Steve answered with a purse of his lips. "He left his suit behind. I'm not sure where he was heading." 

"Running away." Clint scoffed. "He only agreed to come with us when he heard the kid was going." He glanced at Peter.  "Did you two fight?" 

Peter shook his head, his throat tightening up. They were all looking at him now, and he knew they wanted him to explain Wade's behavior, but he barely understood it himself. "No, we just...talked. Everything was fine last time I spoke to him." 

Peter's body buzzed with nerves as he made his way back to the room he'd been staying in to grab his stuff. Wade's abandonment felt as good as a rejection

Chapter Text

Peter scented Wade before he came into sight.

He was loading onto the Quinjet with the others, the kitten mask on his face and the baseball hat sitting on his head, when the familiar smell met his nose and made him repulse. 

It wasn't just Wade's scent breaking through. It was blood. 

Wade rounded the corner with his head down, his jacket obscuring the majority of his features. There was something dangerous in his stride, as if he was trying to seem as large and intimidating as possible. Peter spotted a splatter of deep red that dried on his hood and the right shoulder of his jacket like a projectile.

Peter reached up to cover his nose, horror clear in his eyes. Had Wade hurt someone else? Why? Wade hadn't intentionally killed anyone since they'd started hanging out, as far as Peter knew. 

"Jesus Christ," Clint commented when he saw the state of Wade's clothes, his eyebrows narrowing. "Change before you get on the jet." 

Peter stared up at Wade, searching for any sign of friendliness. Worry prickled in his chest. Maybe Wade had been the one to get seriously hurt instead. Maybe he'd been attacked in the middle of the night and he hadn't returned in the morning because he couldn't.

A burnt hole - a bullet hole- in the side of Wade's hood told Peter the story. 

"Hey," Peter dropped the bag that he'd packed Wade's abandoned suit into, reaching out. His hand only brushed Wade's clean arm before he was shrugged away sharply. "Dude, what happened?" 

Wade shucked off the ruined hoodie, leaving it in the dirt, and he stooped to grabhis mask from the top of the fallen bag, before shoving it over his face. "Don't worry your angel head over it." He finally said with a bite to his words as he stood again, looming. His voice was dark. Defensive. Willing Peter to back off. "My own stuff. You wouldn't understand." 

Peter stared after him as Wade elbowed his way onto the jet, bumping both Peter and Clint out of the way, and leaving Peter stuck to the spot.

"What's his problem?" Peter finally asked, growing irritated as realization dawned. "He was just fine yesterday. If he's mad at me, he could at least tell me." 

Clint pat Peter's shoulder sympathetically, following him up the stairs. "Has he ever made any sense?" 

*

Even the 12 hour flight to Mexico did nothing to calm Wade's behavior, and Peter wasn't the only one to notice. 

Despite his annoyance at Wade for brushing him off so many times, Peter still tried to start small conversations. His jokes were ignored or only earned a humiliatingly pitiful chuckle. He even left his shoulder open, to see if Wade would sleep on him again, but Wade eventually switched to an empty seat next to Scott, and Peter's hopes deflated. The other heroes occasionally shot Wade narrow eyed glances or looked at Peter with concern, but Peter tried to ignore it. Wade occasionally got in funks. This had to be one of them. 

Peter was antsy when they finally got to the secure facility. The outside of it was hidden under the guise of a beach house, 2 floors with big, curtained windows and a beautiful balcony stretched over the street. Luckily, it wasn't even half as cold as Russia had been, and was much more comfortable for Peter. The neighborhood it was in was silent, and Peter couldn't quite tell if anyone even lived nearby. Maybe SHIELD owned it all. 

He immediately tried to hole up in any empty room he could find. An occasional cramp or feverish wave would hit him and he stared down at his phone through it, willing it to pass without reaction. The last thing he needed was someone trying to check up on him when he'd eaten up so much of their time already. Peter didn't want to go to the room he was sharing with Clint and Scott, so he sat on the balcony working on his lab reports that were due days ago. When that didn't burn enough time, he tried eating in the kitchen, but he was starving so the food disappeared in minutes. He ended up sitting on the living room couch, staring at the blank TV, wondering whether he'd finally get the strength to flip it on so he wasn't just stuck in his own head. 

A door opened behind Peter, and he glanced back to see Tony. The majority of the floors were underground, accessible by a long staircase. While everyone else had headed down there to work on plans, Peter figured it was better to not be locked in an enclosed space when he was nearly crawling out of his own skin. 

Something in Peter's face must have given him away, because Tony stopped to study him. He jerked his head, his hands slipping into his pockets. "Come on. Have you seen the beach here yet?" 

Peter jumped off the couch to follow him without a question, scrambling to meet him at the doorway. They headed out onto the empty streets, the silence blissful in comparison to the rest of Cabo. He walked slightly behind Tony in his silence, wondering if the older man was going to speak, or if it were up to him to initiate the conversation. He geared himself up, head running through all the relevant small talk he could pull out. 

"This place is nice-" 

"Why'd you hide it?" 

Peter blinked at Tony's interrupting question, looking up at him. He was temporarily stunned, and stammered on his words as he tried to make them come up. "I-Isn't that obvious?" 

Peter could tell he'd said the wrong thing by the way Tony's wrinkles creased between his eyebrows, so he turned his face purposefully forward. 

"No. I don't understand. Maybe it's the beta side of me. " Tony said in careful calculation, his tone even, but his expression upset.  "Explain it."

Peter swallowed, his arms crossing self consciously over his chest. He bit his lip, thinking on it. "You know how you said that this mission was important if I wanted SHIELD to invite me to others?" He asked, grimacing. "I don't think I would have even gotten here if I hadn't hid it." 

"That's not true. Not everyone is biased against omegas."

"Enough are, Mr Stark." Peter muttered, eyes dropping to the ground to watch his feet step over the cement. "I wouldn't be taken seriously. It's already frustrating being told I'm too young to be here with you guys. Wanda was younger than I am now when you guys brought her along." He sighed. "I didn't need another reason to be kept out of the fight. I want to be here helping out." 

Tony pursed his lips as the silence spread between them once again. 

"This doesn't change how I see you." Tony confirmed after a long minute, and he stopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "I just assumed you would have confided in me instead of reprogramming your suit just to hide it." 

Peter looked up, seeing a sandy white beach spread out in front of him, his eyes widening. He couldn't remember ever getting to stand on the ocean like this without people running around them and crowding the view. "...whoa" He murmured, and fell silent again. 

Minutes later, Tony finally spoke again. "When did you present?" He asked through pursed lips. His eyes were locked on the same water as Peter, leaving them to carefully avoid each other's gazes.

"Right before I graduated." Peter's throat grew tight at the memory. "I'd already gotten into ESU. I didn't want to jeopardize that. And if anyone knew Spider-Man was an omega, it'd be too easy to figure out who I am. There's not a lot of us." He rubbed his hands down the thighs of his jeans nervously. "And I didn't tell you because...I didn't want it to be real, I guess. If I told you, I thought you'd have another reason to feel like I needed babysitting. I just wanted to deal with it on my own." 

"You don't need to be babysat." Tony agreed slowly. "I know that by now." 

Peter cracked a small smile at the corner of his lips, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. They went quiet for another few minutes, the sound of the waves supplementing their lack of talking. Eventually, Peter's thoughts drifted back to another source of stress, and his throat itched to express it to someone . "I think Wade's mad at me." He blurted out. 

Tony raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What did he do?" 

"Nothing." Peter corrected quickly. "It wasn't him, it was me." His lips parted to continue, but he couldn't find the right words at first. "I uh, I told him something that I thought was good. But then he went off to hurt himself and now he won't look at me."

Tony looked more skeptical at the vague explanation. "This 'good' thing isn't something we need to know about?" 

Peter shook his head, his cheeks growing red. "N-no, it's not important." 

Tony breathed in slowly then let out a gradual sigh, reaching up to squeeze Peter's arm for a moment before giving them each their space. "He'll come around." He said simply. "It's nearly impossible to keep him off of you. I was careful as hell to make sure you didn't meet him for years specifically for that reason." 

Peter tried to let it reassure him, but his mind drifted back to the way Wade had cold shouldered him so obviously. "Yeah, maybe." He finally agreed, letting the topic go. 

*

Peter grunted into the flat firmness when his face hit the mat, the sound of his body smacking the ground feeling like thunder through the gym. His ears picked up on Clint and Scott snickering to themselves, making him grimace. He knew he'd never live this down. Still, he wanted to see how well any of the others would do in his position. At least Peter could last a solid few minutes against Nat fighting hand-to-hand. Without using their enhancements, he hadn't seen anyone else able to take her down. 

Nat picked herself up off of Peter and offered her hand. He rolled over onto his back and reached to accept it, being pulled effortlessly to his feet. 

"I don't understand how you're so light." Nat commented, smirking at him. "It makes it easier to throw you over." 

Peter's eyes averted, indignant. Maybe he wasn't as strong of a fighter as he thought. He hadn't had much in the way of formal training. He was flexible, and his reflexes were strong enough to have him dodging a hit before he even knew it was coming, but Nat had years of reading body language and predicting people's movements, so he was spending more time than he would have liked on the ground. 

"Here." Nat's palms settled onto Peter's wrists, as she fixed his posture. "Try it this way." 

Peter's cheeks flushed as a warmth blossomed in his chest, keeping his eyes downcast from her face. He'd never been this close to her before, and it always struck him how pretty she was when he really saw her. "O-okay, got it." He stammered, mimicking the movement in slow motion as she judged it.

"Better." Nat said approvingly, reclaiming her space and standing in a defensive position.  "You start." 

Peter stepped back with one foot to ground himself, gazing across at her. For a moment, he swore her torso was moving to one side and her legs were moving the other, and the room bent around him. But a blink later she was back in focus, standing perfectly still.He'd been too stressed about the situation with Wade to sleep, and the exhaustion seemed to be catching up with him, changing his vision.

He watched her stance and mentally ran through Nat's likely first move that she would use to defend against his attack, preparing himself to lunge. He tensed, then he sprang off his foot and dodged a hit aimed at his chest, twisting around her. They traded attempted blows and grabs, seemingly on equal level- at least for the moment. Peter tried to grab her by her waist but Nat trapped his arm and forced him to roll on the ground to reclaim it, flipping up onto his feet behind her. He saw her fist and raised his hand to deflect it, but another electric pang hit his body and the world started to spin. His shaky hand missed her fist entirely, leaving it to connect with his chin, and Peter stumbled back. It didn't hurt, but it caught him off guard and worsened the dizziness. He doubled over to hold his knees, suddenly feeling out of breath. 

"Peter?" Nat asked from above him, and he felt a hand on his back. 

"'M okay." Peter reassured, forcing himself to stand up straight. His head rushed, and he wavered a bit on his feet, but he looked forward. He wasn't sure where Natasha really was, he realized, as he stared into the face of 3 of her. "I just uh…" He trailed off, rubbing his face as he tried to ward off the vertigo. He hadn't realized he'd gone quiet until Natasha was feeling his forehead, and the ground swayed. 

"Let's sit down." Natasha prompted, grabbing his arm. Peter took one step to follow her, staggered, and then his face hit something hard again. He blinked into the black mat, dazed. Oh. He must have fallen. 

His heart pounded too loudly in his ears to hear what was being said when he was rolled onto his back. He gazed into the distant, wavering faces of Bruce and Tony, and then felt himself being lifted. The fluorescents up above burned his eyes, so he squeezed them shut, letting himself be carried into unending darkness. 

"Hey!" 

Peter's stomach clenched, his head rolling with recognition. He thought he heard Wade calling after them from somewhere down a hallway, but he couldn't be sure it wasn't a dizzy hallucination. 

"Is he okay?" 

"We're going to find out." Bruce returned calmly to possibly-Wade's voice behind him. "But he needs space." 

Peter let the blackness melt over him, gradually seeping into every inch of his body, dragging him into oblivion, until his mind welcomed the rest 

*

Peter stared up at the ceiling of the room he'd been staying in, tight with stress in the center of the bed. He wasn't sure quite how long he'd been passed out, but he didn't think it was more than an hour. He'd woken up to Wade, Steve, and Tony strewn across various places in the room, and even if he'd briefly made eye contact with Steve earlier, they gave him the blessing of pretending not to notice he was awake. 

He could hear Wade cleaning a gun at the end of the bed, and after the time that had passed Peter swore he'd heard him finish it twice already, but Wade seemed to find more and more to pick at. Steve stood against a wall with his arms folded and Tony was on his phone, working on God-knows-what. The atmosphere was tense. Peter guessed it was because this was round 2 of something going wrong because of him. 

Shattering the silence, the bedroom door rolled open and Bruce stepped past it. 

Peter looked up, pushing himself to sitting. Bruce wasn't smiling in that comforting way he normally might. He gazed at Peter and Peter alone as he spoke. "It's not good." Bruce said bluntly, a frown tugging on his lips. "You're not healing at the expected rate. You haven't made much of a recovery. Your hormones are still slightly elevated, your organ function is stunted, and you've developed a heart murmur." 

Peter grimaced. "It's all temporary, though, isn't it? I've been fine until today." 

"You need to go home." Bruce said decisively. "You poisoned yourself with the suppressant overdose. You need real medical care that we can't offer here." 

Home?

Peter's lips parted, the words hitting him hard in the stomach, gutting him. He couldn't go home. He wanted to help finish the mission. He needed to do what he was counted on to do. "I can't." He answered in a stunned voice. 

"I don't think we can argue on this one." Tony muttered from his seat, looking disturbed by the news. "You made yourself sick, and if Bruce can't do anything about it here, we have to send you somewhere that someone can." 

"I can't even go to a hospital back home." Peter protested, gazing around hopefully at Steve for help. "I'd be better off here in the first place. I can handle the mission, even like this. I won't ruin it this time." 

"This isn't a matter of your abilities." Steve supplied sympathetically. "It's your health." 

"You're going home. End of story." Tony added sternly. 

Peter felt his chest growing tight, sudden irritation rising. He breathed to quell it, gazing between the 3 of them. "It's just a couple more days. Then I'll do any tests or treatments you guys want. Just let me do this." 

"You need to go, Webs." Wade piped up from the corner of the room. Peter looked over, expecting his soft eyes, but instead was met with the unwelcoming gaze of his mask. "Just listen to someone else for once and take a fucking break."  

Wade's 'advice' after ignoring Peter for 2 days broke his self control. "You're not my alpha." Peter shot back, scowling. "I don't need you telling me what to do." 

The room fell quiet as Wade stared at him, and then something in the alpha gave way and he was laughing. A dry, bitter, mocking laugh that made Peter's hair stand on end. "Obviously." 

"Screw you, Wade." Peter spit, jumping to his feet with an angry look. 

"Wade, out. And you, kiddo, go lay down and take a breather. " Tony tried to assuage him from behind, and Peter backed out of his grip. 

"And you're not my parent." Peter turned on him, his chest heaving with anxious upset. "You yell at me, and get upset I don't tell you things that are personal, and threaten me with this mission and now you won't let me finish it." He let out a struggled huff then turned on his feet.

"Peter," Bruce tried, but Peter was stomping down the hallway

"Just leave me alone!" Peter called back, his head throbbing and his blood pumping. He took off in a sprint, heading towards the one place he knew he could be by himself. 

*

“Are you still awake? Mind if I sit down?” 

Peter drew his elbows down from where he was covering his eyes, the sticky sweat leaving a residue of sand against his nose. Standing over him was Steve, dressed down to a pair of straight shorts and a button up shirt. It was possibly the most casual outfit Peter had ever seen him in, and it caught him off guard enough that he sat up with a start. “Uh, yeah, yeah.” Peter swallowed, sitting up and scooting over to make room despite the stretch of beach leaving plenty of space for him to take. Steve seemed to sense his nerves, quirking a curious eyebrow as he lowered himself to the ground, resting back against his hands. He was quiet at first, and the awkward silence between them was making Peter jittery. 

“That was a lot of unloading back there.” Steve finally spoke, though he didn’t look at Peter, his eyes trained out on the waves washing over rocks and upsetting the shoreline. Peter followed his gaze, spotting a crab crawling over the mounds of accumulated mud. “You’ve been through quite a lot over the past 2 weeks. I want you to know no one is mad at you, or blames you for what happened. You are just a kid, after all, and Tony put too much pressure on you.” 

“I’m fine.” Peter said tightly, drawing his knees just a bit closer in to his chest. All in all, things could have gone much worse for him. Maybe not by much, but at least he wasn't dead. “I just feel...stupid.” 

“The first time I went into heat in the army was the same way.” Steve murmured, drawing Peter’s attention back to him. “Omegas weren’t allowed to serve back then, I’m sure you know. My platoon didn’t even know what to do when it hit, and we didn’t have regulators or suppressants at that time. We were in the middle of a drill and I collapsed.” 

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I had to be carried back to camp by my squad and locked away in private quarters.” Steve’s stoic expression cracked into a fond smile, his eyes closing in nostalgia. “Dealt with it every few months until the serum took them away. Luckily, I had a friend- an Alpha- and she was usually in the area to keep the others from getting near me. Anyways, the point is, I learned quickly that you can’t feel lesser because of the natural cycles your body goes through. Your self worth shouldn't be determined by omega stereotypes. You carry a burden they can’t understand. Be proud of yourself, and find strength in the times you’re struggling. You’ll always have the team to back you up no matter what you’re going through.” 

Peter’s throat was too constricted to speak. This past week had been full of new, confusing experiences, and he’d felt like he was drowning while the Avengers and SHIELD stood over him and watched. Wade had been the first to extend his hand to pull him out, then Mr Stark, and now Steve, and he felt he might actually be able to escape the flood. He needed to apologize for blowing up. He needed Wade to talk to him again. Peter could take back his confession, and they could pretend he'd never brought it up. It would sting… but Peter just needed his friend back. He nodded with no other words feeling fitting to say, releasing a shaky breath. “Thanks.” 

“Anytime, Spider-Man. I’m heading back to the base, but if you need anything else, you have my number.” Steve picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off, before pointing a finger with a chuckle at Peter’s face. “You have sand stuck to your nose.” 

Peter went cross-eyed as he confirmed it was true, brushing it off quickly a second later. “It’s been there the whole time, hasn’t it?” He deflated. 

“Mhm.” Steve gave Peter a half-wave and turned to jog towards the cliff of rocks, heading back towards the base a few minutes away. Peter had been much too uncomfortable to spend time with the rest of the team after what had happened, but Steve’s words were reverberating in his head. 

Your self worth shouldn't be determined by omega stereotypes. 

Right. He was still Peter Parker. He was still Spider-Man. And he had a job to do. He’d come here to be part of this mission with the team. He had to convince them to let him stay for another day, even if he had to agree to go home the second he started feeling sick again. 

Peter rolled up to his feet, striding across the beach the same direction Steve had gone. He leaped up the small cliff, his fingers catching ledges and his feet scrambling to quickly find footholds, flipping at the top so that he landed neatly on the sidewalk in his sneakers. The night was dark, the street lamps were dim, but the crashing of the ocean behind him kept him on track. He walked confidently towards the house at the end of the street, steadying breaths puffing out his chest. 

No one is mad at you.

Peter could feel the weight of the warm night dragging him down, his skin beading with sweat the more he walked. His hands were clammily grasping at the hem of his shirt, and he prayed what Steve said was true. He might be met with a bit of scolding, and definitely pity, but he could make it through that phase. As long as they still accepted him as part of this mission, things would be fine. 

The further he made it, the more anxious he got. 

His stomach was tight with nerves, and he reached out to grab one of the lamp posts when he was just a block away from the house. He hadn’t realized how sick with anxiety he was until then, shaking fingers moving to wrap his arms around himself. A pit had started to form in his abdomen, and he swallowed back humid air to steady himself. Maybe the Avengers really would be mad at him. Maybe his Spidey senses were telling him going inside was a terrible idea, and would just result in humiliation and anger. The buzzing in the back of his head was familiar, though faint, warning him of impending danger. He took a second to steady himself, dropping his body back against the light post, feeling too dizzy to hold himself up any longer. 

“What the hell…?” Peter gulped back air as he realized that this wasn’t normal anxiety. The moisture on his skin wasn’t from the air, but from internal warmth crawling to the surface. The pit in his stomach wasn’t painful because of nervousness, but from his body physically craving relief. The dizziness wasn’t from overthinking-

Peter was going back into heat. 

True alarm set into his muscles as he fell to the ground, hugging his knees into himself and rocking to fight the wave of nausea forcing itself up his throat. He’d never had this happen before, or even heard of a second wave of heat rearing itself days after the first had been over. He couldn’t imagine his suppressants had done this much damage to his system. Something felt wrong. It wasn’t natural. 

Peter’s wild eyes shot up at footsteps approaching from the way he had come. Multiple people, as many as 5, were making their way towards him at a vigorous pace. He braced himself to run, put all his remaining strength into his arms to push himself back to his feet, when a growl had him rooted in his spot. 

“ Omega. Stay.”

Every logical thought Peter had was screaming at him to get away if self preservation meant anything to him, but his hormonal instincts- the identity he couldn’t fight- kept him frozen against the lamp post. His limbs were too heavy to move, and his breathing was too shallow to keep his mind straight. Dizziness swept over him and he crumpled, covering his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut. 

It was like he was drugged. His body refused to react in any way he wished it. He’d only had one similar experience in the past, when his heat had been induced after irregularities in his teenage years. 

But who had he been close enough to to even chance that happening? 

Peter's arms were roughly tugged on, and adrenaline immediately shot through his blood as his fight-or-flight activated. Peter took the energy spurt to roll out of their grasp and pathetically attempt to crawl to his feet, making it a short distance before he was tackled again to the ground. This time, his hands were shoved behind his back and a clicking of metal alerted him to the fact his wrists were bound in handcuffs. He stared up at the beach house, where Tony and Steve and all of the other Avengers that were counting on him were waiting. 

And Wade. He hadn’t even gotten to talk to him yet.

The image disappeared from his sight when his head was knocked hard against the asphalt. Dazed, he didn’t even possess the power to struggle against the fabric engulfing his face and cutting him off from the world. The next thing he knew he was being wretched to his feet and drug in the direction opposite of his destination. The cramps were bad now, so violent he wanted to double over and scream, but he refused to  make a noise.

He wasn’t sure how far they walked- perhaps a few blocks- before they took a break. It was silent, save the heavy breathing of both Peter and the people who mobbed him, and they were waiting for...something. Peter struggled to listen over the blood pounding in his ears, tried to make out their scenery or an approximate location. Perhaps if he could figure out if there was a business nearby still open, he could escape long enough to be spotted. But it was deathly quiet, as if the tourist spot had completely gone to sleep and left him to the beefcakes keeping him upright. 

An engine started up just down the road. Wherever they were, it was abandoned enough that the vehicle made its way slowly towards where they stood without any interference. The goons threw the backdoor of it open and drug Peter inside, dropping him uselessly onto his side. He curled up on himself, clutching onto his stomach. It wasn't a true heat, at least, so the need wasn't present….yet. But the command he'd been given earlier had freaked him out. He had felt powerless against it. If they did it again, he wasn't sure he could fight back again either. 

Besides, Peter had the sinking suspicion this wasn't a random attack, and he wanted to know what he was trapped in the middle of. 

The drive seemed to take an hour, if Peter's sense of time wasn't too obscured by the grogginess in his brain. They came to a sudden halt and slammed into park, leaving Peter to get thrown over a shoulder like dead weight. They bumped along through an open doorway into moldy air, and there was a whirring sound below their feet. Peter's ears rang at the screeching of rusty metal, and they stepped into what Peter thought might be an elevator, and definitely not a well matienced one. 

Down it went, leaving Peter to try to count the floors between the throbs of his head, guessing at how low they went. The air changed and went cooler, a blissful relief for Peter's fever, and the echos of their ride seemed to hit a thick, solid wall outside. Maybe rock, or maybe a well guarded chamber imprisoned in concrete.

Finally the doors rattled back open and they stepped out, leaving Peter immediately aware that there were other omegas down in the space with him. The smell of heat far beyond his filled the room. He didn't hear anyone, but they had to be somewhere nearby. 

He was dropped onto the dirty floor, his ribs aching from the earlier assault, and forced onto his stomach to have his hands untied. Peter pulled the fabric off covering his face, blinking through shallow breaths as his eyes adjusted to the light. He slowly made out a group of men standing over him, before iron bars shut on the cage he was in, trapping him inside. 

"Uh," Peter spoke in that higher pitched and breathy voice he loathed, but he didn't let it stall his speech, even with his arms shaking as he struggled to support himself. "Y-you know this can't hold me, right?" 

One of the men turned to mutter annoyed sounding Russian to the other 3 with him. Finally, the guy rolled his eyes, turning to face him. "You are just pathetic omega. You can not break out of here." 

Another laughed at his words. "Sergio, you are right. Omega is pathetic."

Peter gazed up at him for a hint of a joke, but a sharp jab in his abdomen made him cringe on himself back against the ground, fire erupting in his chest. His heart was racing again, and he just hoped he wouldn't go into heat shock before he made it out. "Then why'd you come after me?" He hissed. 

"Boss wanted you. Probably because you are male." Sergio brushed off, turning away. "Men make stronger soldier." 

Peter tracked the boots as they left him, cutting off any conversation. His head swam with a stream of broken thoughts, even as his breathing steadied in focus. It seemed that these guys, at least, didn't know he was Spider-Man...but someone did. Only the Avengers, possibly a few SHIELD agents, and those that had witnessed him fall in Russia knew about his omega status. There was a high possibility this facility was connected to the rest of the weapons production. 

Peter's heart gave a painful thump and he clutched at his chest, folding closer in on himself. He could break out probably, but he wasn't sure he'd survive another round of whatever they had used on him to get him like this in the first place. Instead, he focused on trying to tune in to their surroundings. There had to be some sort of clue of where they were, or what was going on. 

A door swung open somewhere far off, and a sharp scent immediately washed over Peter. His hands swung up to plug his nose, struggling to sit up to catch a glance. There were other men stomping along, dragging someone. Someone in heat. An omega woman that looked as if she could barely stand. 

"Line her up with others." Sergio grunted at them. "The test is ready to be tried." 

"Hey," Peter called as he watched them carry her off, grabbing onto the bars of the cage for support. They didn't look back, and the woman barely stirred. "Hey!" He shouted louder. "What are you doing to her?"

"Shut up," Another Russian man growled, and Peter halted. His throat betrayed him and his voice died off. Slowly, he realized he was staring up at the man, as if waiting for something else. Waiting to be told what to do. 

Peter wrenched himself back off the bars, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his arms. He needed to calm down. He needed clean air. There must have been some drug pumping through the facility, if he wasn't the only one stuck like this. 

He wanted Wade to find him. To help him. But Peter was sure he hadn't even bothered to notice he was gone. 

*

Peter was bleary when the lock to the cage clicked open, what must have been hours later, and he gazed up at the bars in a trance. 

A woman stood there. Someone Peter vaguely recognized somewhere in his mind. But he doubted he'd even clearly recognize himself in this state. The heat had taken its toll, and the world had seemed to fade to vague shadows and sensitivity. His brain wasn't moving fast enough to even have a proper conversation. 

"You were surprisingly easy to catch," The woman hummed, and she was crouching beside him and grabbing his chin, making Peter's jaw lock. The voice registered in his head, in some inaccessible memory. Mullen, he thought. That had to be it. Where he remembered her, he had no idea. "I'm not sure what SHIELD was thinking, sending an omega to take us down. All it takes is inducers and a few commands to keep you under control. That's why you make such obedient soldiers." 

Peter made a protesting noise under his breath, his eyes gradually focusing on her face. She had pin-straight brown hair, and she wore a dark blue pants suit. A badge dangled at her pocket, and the words slowly made their way through his brain. 

SHIELD Agent Mullen. Agent. Shit.

Peter watched as she stood up again, walking towards the door of the cage. "I've been gassing him with inducers for days, but he's dangerous." Mullen said to the men standing guard. "Two omegas survived the serum injection earlier, and we're monitoring their progress. As soon as the room is cleared, I want him taken to the vault for his trials." 

Peter breathed shallowly, his head swimming. Someone that they had trusted had been slipping him the drugs. Then the poisoning...maybe it wasn't entirely his fault. 

Peter's fingers fumbled for the bottom of his t-shirt, tearing slowly up the side of the seam towards his stomach. The weapons tech they'd been after weren't the guns and bombs they were looking for. They were people. Super soldiers made from omegas. That was a thousand times more dangerous than simple technology. 

*

They came for Peter when he was laying on his side with his back to the cage, head tucked under his arms. He'd been in the wave for nearly a day, he thought, and it had taken its toll. His heart had pounded for so long that the painful racing felt normal, and he accepted that the stabbing cramps and the anxiety weren't going away. He was slow, and weak, and when the men lifted him by his arms to drag him out, he kept his head down and buried against his shoulder 

"I have not seen a man pass through here before, have you?" One of the men commented conversationally to the other at Peter's side. "He must be special. Mutant, maybe." 

"He does not act like it." The other returned with a mocking chuckle. He poked Peter's head as it rolled to the side, tugging sharply on his arm. "He is as weak as others." 

Peter breathed out quietly, his eyes cracking when they entered a hallway that sounded different. It was darker. A bit more cramped. The lighting was getting worse, and the elevator entrance was pressed into one of the side walls. 

"Hey," Peter mumbled, catching their attention. They looked at one another, and tightened their grip on his torso. "Need to tell you." 

"What did you say?" The first man demanded, leaning his head down towards Peter's muffled mouth to hear better. "You are embarassingly quiet." 

"I said," Peter mumbled just a bit louder into the man's ear. "I needed to tell you something." 

"I do not have time for this." The man snapped in irritation. 

"I needed to say…." Peter swallowed a breath, tilting his chin up towards him to speak. A piece of cotton was stuck to his face to cover his mouth and nose, blocking out the worst of the pheromones, as the ripped lower half of his t-shirt dangled free over his stomach. "You two should get better jobs." 

Peter twisted his hand to grip onto both men's arms then ripped them towards him, leaping up to roll over their backs. They collided and fell to the ground, leaving Peter to stagger on his feet. He had enough strength now to stay up, though unsteady. But he just had to get to the elevator. 

Peter felt a hot chill run down his spine and he dove to the side, rolling hard on the concrete as rounds of bullets exploded over his head and crashed into the wall. If they hadn't drawn attention to themselves yet, they certainly were now, and he had limited time to try to get back above ground. 

Peter waited for a break in the shots then pushed off, dashing towards the elevator. He shoved the heel of his hand into the calling button and grabbed onto the wall, keeping himself on his feet. He could hear footsteps headed in his direction, and guns being reloaded behind him, but the doors were groaning as they struggled to open and he just needed to get out of the pheromone filled rooms. 

As soon as the slot was big enough to squeeze through he tumbled inside and lept to the ceiling to dodge another round of bullets, sticking as flat as he could make himself to the metal. Small darts rebounded onto the floor under him, and Peter was sure they must have been tranquilizer shots. One of the men made it to the elevator and Peter dropped down on him to kick his leg out. With the strength he had left, he shoved the man out of the elevator just as the doors snapped shut, and he collapsed against the back wall, breathing heavily. 

"Shit, shit, shit," Peter whispered as he pulled the t-shirt fabric off his face to breathe again, listening to the elevator rattle towards the surface. So far, it hadn't been stopped, and he hoped it wasn't programmed with an emergency kill switch. The fresh air would hopefully cool him off enough that he'd slowly get his strength back, and he could find a way back to the beach house to alert the others. 

The elevator drew to a stop and opened on the small room they must have walked through before, cramped and black. Peter staggered towards the door and shoved it open, taking a single step out of the withered cabin. 

" Omega ." 

Peter's insides went cold, and his hand stuck to the door handle, his feet refusing to comply with him. 

Mullen was standing in front of him, a handgun trained at his forehead, and a harsh smirk on her face. Maybe she had expected this. He shouldn't have been naive enough to think no one knew another way up here.

"No," Peter tried, his voice a shaky whisper as he fought against every instinct to listen to her. "This is wrong. How could you turn against SHIELD like that? Use omegas as science experiments?" 

"There's a lot of money in controllable super soldiers." Mullen said as she clicked the safety off her gun, making Peter wince. "You don't think SHIELD has their own experiments going on? Mine were just smarter." She lowered her eyes again. "Now, get on your knees." 

"Yeah, I don't think so." A voice answered before Peter could retort.

Peter's eyes shot up to the roof of the cabin, his breath stuttering in his chest. There was no way. How…? 

Sure enough, Tony Stark sat there with his right hand and leg covered in armor, the rest of him clearly on display. He looked annoyed- maybe more annoyed than Peter had ever seen him- as he stared intensely at Mullen. "Put the gun down and let the kid go, and we'll take you back to SHIELD with minor injuries." 

Mullen snorted a laugh, and the tip of the gun seemed to waver in her hands in slight fear. "You don't know what you're getting involved in." 

The elevator opened behind Peter this time. He stumbled backwards out onto the dirt, his legs shaking under him, staring at the dozens of men pouring out. "Stay back, or Spider-Man dies." 

Peter's knee trembled harshly and he finally fell, his body deciding he'd reached his limit. He gasped as the air started to rush past him, his head spinning. He fell into something hard that kept him upright, and his eyes flickered up to whoever had caught him. 

"Scott?" Peter gaped, his lungs nearly failing him. 

Scott grinned under his helmet, clutching him against his chest so he didn't tumble to the dirt. "Heya, Spidey." 

Peter's throat tightened up as a sharp pang lurched through him, and he grabbed onto Scott and drug them both to the ground. He wasn't sure who had fired first, but bullets broke out around and above them, and a repulsor beam sent dirt flying up in every direction. 

Peter rolled off of Scott, coughing against the dust, struggling to pull himself to his feet. A hand grabbed his and he was being drug behind the side of the cabin, half crawling and ducking to stay out of the line of fire. His eyes flickered up to the concerned gaze and shadowed face of Natasha, and she looked wordlessly behind them to search for someone. 

"Hey!" She called into dark nothingness. 

Peter's abdomen clenched, a familiar heat running through him. But not the obstructive, painful kind. The sweet kind that felt like walking out under a bright sun. 

Wade came jogging around the corner, and he froze at the sight of them, as if he had surprised himself. Then he was crouching to grab Peter and pull him into his chest, and Natasha took off into the fight that had broken out. 

"Wade," Peter gaped, feeling stunned. "I-Im sorry-" 

"I'm not your alpha," Wade's hand grabbed hold of his own mask, and he drug it up over his face. Sweet blue eyes stared down at him, vulnerable and worried, to match the trembling of his jaw. "I know that. I just can't stand seeing you hurt." 

"I know-" Peter flinched at an explosion around the corner, possibly a car at the intensity of it. "I should help." 

"They have it, webs. They're fine. You're not." Gloves gripped Peter's chin and pulled his gaze back on Wade, a sad smile tugging at his lips now. "I just want you to take care of yourself for once, baby boy." His forehead pressed to Peter's, cool against his feverish skin. "Just this time, let someone else help you out." 

Peter breathed in slowly, and Wade's scent seemed so sweet in his nose, he couldn't help but relax. He was exhausted, and sick, and he really did just want a second to sit down. As if reading his mind, Wade sank to the dirt while supporting him, until he had his legs surrounding Peter and held onto him tight. 

"You asked me if I didn't like omegas," Wade said quietly, his chest rumbling against Peter's cheek. His heart was racing nearly as quick as Peter's now. "I'm not trying to claim and control you. The fact that I can't is one of my favorite things about you. You're stronger than me in every way." He let out a nervous laugh, as if waiting for Peter to stop him. "I shouldn't have left you like an asshole. I can't... hurt you. I'd rather castrate myself with a dull knife. And let me tell you, it doesn't feel good." 

"No offense, Wade," Peter mumbled back, a small smile tugging at his lips as he trembled in Wade's grasp. "But it'd be pretty hard for you to hurt me." He swallowed shakily, teeth nudging his bottom lip in thought. "You freaked out. It happens. I dropped...a lot on you. But I meant it. And I still mean it." 

Wade's lips pressed into the top of Peter's head. His scent was changing. It was gentler. Maybe happier. "You know I'd still like you if you weren't an omega." 

Peter's smiled anxiously to himself, his cheeks flushing at the confession. Behind the building, the bullets were flying less sporadically. The fight seemed to be wrapping up. " Like like me?"

This time, Wade's laugh was genuine as he clutched onto Peter tighter. Affectionately. 

A head poked around the corner, and Peter looked up. Clint raised an eyebrow at the two, then motioned over his shoulder. "Come on. Tony wants to fly Peter back to get him there faster. You know, whenever your moment is done." He snorted, then disappeared to leave them alone again. 

"Up you go." Wade ushered as he picked Peter up to his feet, helping him hobble out back in front of the cabin. 

The rest of the Avengers were detaining the gunmen who had come up to fight them, and Mullen was being led away by Natasha towards a SHIELD van. Tony was standing in his suit with his arms folded, and when he looked back at Peter, he seemed to straighten up a fraction. 

"Jesus Christ, you look like hell." Tony said as his eyes roamed over Peter's sorry state, ripped shirt and wobbly knees, before he reached out to grab his shoulder for support. "You shouldn't have been left out there when you were in bad shape. I don't know how we missed the signs that an agent was against us. We should have been able to figure that out without-" His eyes gazed at Peter's sorry state. "All of this." 

Peter felt relieved that Tony didn't seem too angry with him for disappearing or screwing up the mission, or for blowing up on them at the beach house. He gave him a weak smile, breathing out, "Thanks for coming." 

Tony gave him an acknowledging but wordless nod, then pulled Peter into his arms, his arm folding under his knees. "Let's get you back to Banner." 

*

Peter didn't really hate being an omega. Maybe he didn't dislike it much either these days. It was part of him, and even if he had tried to hide it for so many years under the assumption he would always be treated differently for it….people were actually pretty okay when he opened up about it. 

Telling the Avengers hadn't really been optional, but Scott had been right. No one on the team had anything negative to say. Steve offered him advice, Bruce offered to work on regulators that might help him control his heats' spontaneity, and even Tony found it in him to compliment Peter's care in detail when hiding it. Agent Coulson congratulated him on a successful international mission- and for discovering the base they had been hiding the soldier experiments in- and he'd been sent home feeling a lot better than he had going in. 

Peter slipped down on a familiar rusted fire escape, landing silently on the sturdiest rung. The window that was usually unlocked rose easily up its track, letting out a rush of hot air from inside. Despite the admittedly low pricing of Wade's sketchy apartment, he'd always invested in great space heaters. At least he had ever since Peter complained about how easily he got cold 2 years back. 

He padded onto the carpet and tugged off his mask, glancing at the couch. Wade was asleep on it under his Hello Kitty blanket, an 80's sitcom playing on the TV screen. Peter raised a fist and tapped lightly on the window behind him to wake Wade up as gently as possible, not wanting to get stabbed or shot at….again.

Wade made a muffled noise and started to stretch, so Peter took that as a sign he could approach non-fatally. 

"Hey," Peter murmured, sitting in the crook of Wade's stomach where he was curled up. He slipped his mask off and brushed his hair out of his face, giving him a small smile. "You never sleep this early." 

"Didn't expect you to be back on your feet so soon." Wade mumbled in a thick, sleep heavy voice. His arm found Peter's stomach as if to hug him, then it hesitated and rested across his knees casually instead. "Your scent is gone." 

"Blockers." Peter vaguely waved at his neck, his eyes wandering over Wade's face and arm. Wade's eyes were struggling to stay open. "I can come back another night." 

"No, no, pumpkin." Wade wiggled back to make more room for Peter on the couch, slowly approaching full consciousness. "I'd never turn you down when you came just to see lil' ol' me." 

Peter's eyes dropped down to his hands, twisting his mask between them. He pondered his words carefully, then said, "I didn't want what we talked about before to just kind of...get ignored." He admitted softly. "I've already ignored it for a while." 

Now Wade seemed more awake, and he gazed up at Peter from the cushions, searching his face for something he couldn't see clearly. "Yeah?" He asked in a weakened voice. 

"Yeah." Peter murmured, turning his eyes down to his fingers. "Being with you just feels...good." 

Now, Wade's arm at his knees moved closer, almost holding Peter, though hesitant still. Like he was worried about destroying a boundary they'd spent so long building up. 

"And I like you, and you said you liked me." Peter bit his lip and braved it, looking at Wade's attentive eyes. "So I'm done pretending we both don't want this." 

Like a dam breaking, it seemed Wade's worries finally gave way, and Wade was sitting up at the same time that he pulled Peter closer effortlessly. Still, Wade stopped for a moment, so Peter took it into his own hands and leaned in to kiss Wade with every desperate, confusing emotion raging through him, his secrets laid bare and his heart ready to be built up or shattered. 

Wade's hands found his thighs and dragged Peter into his lap, finally kissing him the way Peter had always wanted him to.

Peter broke apart to breathe, his forehead pressing into Wade's and his lips a dopey grin. His hands slipped down Wade's shoulders and arms, stopping on either side of his bicep. "Better." He murmured. 

"I gotta tell you," Wade said as his fingers roved up Peter's legs, tapping in thought. "I've had some impure thoughts about this since I was a girl that mama wouldn't be proud of." 

"I hope so." Peter snorted. 

Wade's lips slowly smiled, and he leaned up to pepper kisses along Peter's jawline and neck. "You won't like every part of me you get." 

"I think I will." Peter protested. "Or I'll learn to."

"Fuck, you're so cute." Wade shook his head into Peter's shoulder, hands ghosting up his ribs. "I wanna keep you locked up here forever." 

"At least buy me dinner first." Peter retorted his cheeks going pink. 

"Tomorrow?" 

Peter looked at him, blinking, searching for any hint of a joke. Wade seemed more than serious as he gazed back evenly, waiting for an answer. 

"Uh, y-yeah." Peter stammered. "Yeah, okay. I'm free after work." 

Wade gave him a small grin, his shoulders losing their hard tension, and he leaned into the back of the couch. "Great. I'll pick you up." 

Peter's lips opened and then slipped shut, until he gave up on trying to respond and just clutched onto Wade's arms. "Okay." 

"Mmkay." Wade nodded behind Peter towards the TV. "Ever seen this?" 

"No, never." 

"It's shit. It always puts me to sleep. Come here." 

Wade drug Peter down until he was curled up against Wade's front as Wade laid behind him, his arm slung over Peter's stomach. Peter bit his lip in a small smile, warmth burning on his face and blossoming on his skin under the suit. 

"I think it'll be a while until I'm ready to go on that trip to Moscow you promised." Peter mumbled, his head tilting into the crook of Wade's shoulder. "I'd rather stay in New York for a long, long time."