Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Peter stared at the sign outside the local coffee shop and couldn’t help but cringe. He knew the barista; Wade Wilson, aka “hella fucking gay” dude, was his roommate.

He was reluctant to open the door, knowing full well the bell would ring and announce his arrival to said dumb-ass barista. He stared harder at the chalk doodle of Wade and dug up the nerve to open the door. As expected, Wade’s head shot up instantly. “Peter!” He chirped from behind the counter, perking up like a puppy whose owner had just returned. “I didn’t know you were gonna visit me today.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Peter said, slumping against the counter. Wade rung up his order, not having needed a word in edgewise as Peter always ordered the same thing. “I needed my fix,” he said.

Wade nodded knowingly, “Finals, man. They’re so crazy this year. I heard people have over-laps all over the place. And with the city planning on outlawing our yearly pub-crawl, it’s like everyone’s turned against us poor, unfortunate college students! I mean, WE’RE JUST TRYING TO PAY RENT!” By the end of his rant, his shouts had awoken even the dozing hipster in the back corner. He didn’t even have the nerve to look apologetic.

Peter looked at the tip jar and noticed the stack of thin papers filling it, rather than the normal quarters and dimes. “Is Logan okay with you, ya know, asking for numbers instead of tips?”

“Why? You offering to take me off his hands? Oh, Logan, dear! Peter has valiantly decided to offer ten goats for my hand in marriage! Please come bear your blessing on this unholy union!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Came the response from out back. “You’re annoying all the customers.”

Peter almost laughed, but knowing that that would promote too happy a reaction from Wade, he disguised the noise as a cough with the corner of his elbow. “Today your barista is: 1. Hella fucking gay, and 2. desperately single. For your tip today I recommend: you give me your number. Classy, even for you,” he recited.

Wade grinned from ear to ear, “oh, Peter, darling. I try. But, we cannot all be as charming and wonderful as you, can we now?” Peter shrugged and backed off the counter. “Ya know, if you’d just cave and let me give you one of my trusty hand-jobs in the bathroom, then we wouldn’t be in this mess. Actually, we’d be in an entirely different sort of mess, if you catch what I mean. But like no, seriously. Let me fuck you against the bathroom wall. You want it, I want it, hell, even Logan probably wants it.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Peter said. He skirted the edge of the counter and stood at the other end, patiently waiting for his caffeine fix of the day. He pushed his glasses back on his nose and tried to hide the way the tips of his ears were definitely turning pink.

Wade chattered aimlessly as he made the coffee, but Peter mostly tuned him out. He did like Wade, really. The guy was charming underneath all his vulgar, talkative bullshit. Plus he was surprisingly tolerable as a roommate, and despite his massive crush on him, he never did anything beyond staring at Peter’s ass. Plus it was flattering to have a guy after you all the time.

“Here’s your coffee, baby boy,” Wade said, accompanying the drink with a wink. Peter rolled his eyes. He was almost out the door when he noticed that not only had Wade misspelt his name, but he’d scrawled his number across the side in barely legible handwriting.

“Wade,” he said, stopping and making his way back to the counter.

Said barista was already leaning provocatively against the counter. Peter shouldn’t have been surprised. “Yes, lover?” Wade sang.

“I already have your number,” Peter said, “Stop harassing me.”

“I love you too, Petey!” Wade called at Peter’s retreating back, “And Pee-ess, your ass looks phenomenal in those—” Peter slammed the door on the way out.

Chapter Text

He entered the dorm singing. At least that much wasn’t a surprise. “Oh, Petey,” Wade sang loudly, and horribly off-key. Peter glanced up from his textbook; his expression was nothing less than bored.

Wade jumped onto his bed, pushing the book to the floor and moving to straddle him. Peter grunted under the weight, and moved to push him off, but Wade, being the larger of the two, held his protests at bay. “Wanna know how many numbers I got today?”

“Not particularly,” Peter said, but Wade dropped down onto him and he was forced to slant his face to the side to avoid an awkward kiss. Wade pressed his cheek harder into Peter’s.

“Aw, but, baby boy! I was so excited to tell you! Listen,” he sat up and began tracing shapes on Peter’s t-shirt. “I’m gonna tell you anyway. So, I got seventeen! But three were from chicks, and I’m pretty sure one guy was my old professor so no. That’s just gross, right? Anyway, I got thirteen I could actually potentially fuck! And that’s just crazy, cause I haven’t had my dick touched by anyone but leftie since… oh shoot, I can’t even remember!”

“Get off me.”

“Petey, listen. You’re cute, but you’re just not my type,” to which Peter muttered an ‘oh darn,’ under his breath. “I’m gonna have to wait-list you behind Johnny, and Harry. Both Y-names, huh? Well, looks like papa’s got a new kink!”

Peter rolled his eyes, and grunted again when Wade finally rolled off him. He budged Peter to the point where they were both awkwardly resting on the twin-sized mattress. “Names that end in Y aren’t a kink,” Peter said after the silence had gone on too long. Wade was never this quiet. “Wait,” he said, and Wade shifted to let him know he was listening. Peter shifted onto his elbow to stare down at his roommate, “Harry and Johnny?”

“Yeah, you know ‘em?” Wade asked, and turned onto his side to face Peter. “I thought I recognized Johnny from somewhere, but Harry was definitely not someone I knew. Besides how can you recognize them from only first names? There are more than 314,940 people in the United States with the name Johnny. And he was black, and looked like that new actor, ya feel? Michael something? I dunno, man. I’m bad with last names. I think maybe his last name was Storm but whatever. You know ‘em?”

Peter dropped onto his back again, and sighed.

Wade turned onto his stomach and moved closer to Peter. “Drama queen,” he muttered into the sheets.

“You should talk,” Peter shot back without thinking. Wade opened his mouth to retort, but Peter just shoved his face further into the mattress. Wade continued trying to talk, but all that came out was a muted whining and gibberish cut off by the blankets under him. “Johnny’s in my history lecture.”

Wade tried to respond again. Peter lessened his hold and allowed him to come up for air. He spat out the blanket filling his mouth, and Peter wondered if he could get a load of laundry into the washer before he had to sleep on saliva-coated sheets. “You call dibs?”

Peter shook his head and Wade jumped up and punched the air. “He doesn’t have an ass like you though, Petey,” he said when he’d stopped moving. “Don’t worry. You’ll always be number one in my affections!”

“Shut up,” Peter said as he rolled over to face the wall. After another pause where he heard Wade getting onto his own bed, he spoke again. “Harry what?”

“Uhhhhh,” Wade grunted and flipped his laptop open on his stomach. “Smithy or something? Smitherson. Whatever. Started with an S.” Peter couldn’t help but feel relieved. He’d had a falling out with Harry Osborn after high school. Although he did want to bury the hatchet sooner or later, he was leaning toward the latter. “You know him? He wasn’t that much a ‘looker. Kinda scrawny, but not like you scrawny where I’m thinking he’d be a great twink. The kinda scrawny that’s too tall and too skinny. Maybe I’d need to fatten him up, but then I’d have to develop that weird fatty-kink where you like watching the guy eat and junk and that just seems like too much work.”

Wade began typing and Peter had just begun to doze off, when there was a silence and then Wade was shouting, “Petey!” Then there was weight on top of him.

He groaned into his pillow, “Wade, get the fuck off me.”

Wade bounced on him for effect, “Wake up, wake up, wake up.” He rocked his hips again, his crotch dragging against Peter’s ass once, startling the boy’s eyes wide. Wade rocked again, not entirely meaning to create the erotic sensation it was causing in Peter. Peter clenched his jaw in an effort to stop the moan that was building in his throat, and he reached back and stilled Wade’s movements. Wade looked down at him innocently, “Tacos?”

Peter groaned again and flipped around, not without a complaint from Wade as the boy moved around on top of him to remain that way. Peter realized his mistake as soon as he’d stopped moving. Wade’s crotch was now atop his own. He stilled, and glanced up at Wade who hadn’t seemed to notice their position just yet. Peter felt his ears redden, “Tacos?”

Wade finally jumped off him and danced around the room like a lunatic. “It’s Tuesday, Petey! You know what that means, dining hall tacos! Fuck yeah, am I right? I’m gonna get three plates full and no one can stop me!”

“Except maybe the servers,” Peter said as he sat up and toed his shoes on. While Wade was particularly obnoxious about the meal plan, he wasn’t in any place to say no to tacos.

“Nah,” Wade said, opening the door and frantically gesturing Peter to move faster, “I’ll just threaten them.”

Peter rolled his eyes but moved into the hallway nonetheless, “‘Cause that worked so well for you last time.”

Wade shrugged and locked the door behind them. He’d jogged to the elevator and pressed the button countless times before Peter stopped beside him. Just as they got into the elevator and Wade had begun ranting about tacos again, Peter realized who was working the dining hall that night: Johnny Storm. Anxiety began creeping into his bones the closer they got to the dining hall. “Hey, what if we went off campus for tacos, instead?” Peter tried.

Wade looked at him as if he’d grown a third head. “But free tacos, Peter. Free tacos,” he nearly screamed the latter part. Peter dug his fingers in his ears, trying to tune him out.

The concept of Johnny and Wade flirting in front of him gave him a bad feeling. He could barely handle Wade flirting with him, but with Johnny? He must be feeling sympathy for his friend, yeah. That was definitely it. But, then if that was the case, then why had Johnny given Wade his number? It mustn’t be an unrequited crush. But why was Peter so anxious if not out of pity?

“I think I heard someone about Dos Amigos having two for one Tuesdays but I might be—”

Wade cut him off with a banshee-like screech. He slammed a fist into the ‘stop’ button on the elevator and repeatedly pressed the button for their floor until the elevator began to rise again. Twice it stopped for people, but Wade just hissed at them not unlike an angry goose and they turned for the stairs. Peter smiled and held the elevator as Wade sprinted for their dorm and the wallets inside.

Chapter Text

Peter had grabbed the corner booth at Dos Amigos while Wade had gone up to order. “Two chicken tacos,” he’d said. He honestly should’ve expected Wade to return with twenty-one tacos; it should not have been the surprise it was. But when Wade marched up to the table, a tray stacked high with tacos, he was flabbergasted.

“Are you serious?” Peter deadpanned, “Are you actually serious right now?”

Wade grinned, one beef taco already smeared across his teeth, “Would you rather I lied?” Wade set the tray down on the table, and settled in beside Peter. He picked up a taco and was about to bite into it when he noticed Peter still staring, “So, here I am slaving away ordering these tacos for you, and you don’t even eat ‘em? What the hell, Petey? I bought these for you.”

“No,” Peter said. He elbowed Wade in the side until the boy finally got the hint and moved to the other side of the bench.

“Aw, babe,” Wade whined once facing him. “You don’t wanna cuddle up with me while dining on these delicious—”

“No, I don’t. And why in the fuck did you buy twenty-one? Especially after I told you it was buy one get one free!”

Wade swallowed the rest of his taco and grabbed another one, “I like prime numbers.” Peter closed his eyes and put his forehead to the table. Despite how obviously exasperated Peter was, Wade continued talking, “And that chick at the counter was wicked hot. She totally distracted me like did you see the jugs on her?” He let out a long whistle and Peter brought his head up and down in a miming of slamming it on the table.

Wade grabbed another taco and scarfed it down. Peter finally sat up, but leaned back against the bench to get as far out of Wade’s “splash-zone” as possible. “First, twenty-one isn’t a prime number,” Wade opened his mouth to protest, but Peter continued talking. “There’s literally no way for you to argue that. It’s a fact, not an opinion.

“And second,” Peter stared at Wade until he stopped mocking Peter’s speech. Wade closed his mouth, whispering a soft ‘sorry,’ and then he finished, “And what happened to the ‘hella fucking gay’ thing? I wouldn’t count complimenting the hostess’… ample? Uhh… breasts? As ‘hella fucking gay.’ In fact, that’s pretty fucking straight.” Peter paused, “And actually kind of sexist, but that’s beside the point.”

Wade stared at him, “Whatever, Andy. Oh sorry, did I say Andy? I didn’t mean that.” Peter grabbed a taco from the stack, checking that it was indeed, chicken, and not beef, before eating it. “You do look like that Andrew fellow, though, yeah? What was his name? Oh, it was a cat, I think. Maybe Salem? Hobbs? Lucifer? Tom? Garfield? Yeah! Yeah, Garfield was it. Andrew Garfield. You’re like the spitting image of the guy.”

Peter ignored him. He was more distracted by the way he’d behaved earlier. One mention of Johnny Storm, and he was practically begging Wade to change locations. Did he like—? No. There was no fucking way. Wade was vulgar. He was annoying, obnoxious, and sometimes he talked in the third person. Peter glanced up at said…character.

“Peter’s probably not even listening to you. Why would he be? Guy’s got a taco, that’s practically Japanese for fuck off. Oh, come on, guys. Peter likes me! He thinks I’m what’s the word? Obnoxious? Vexatious? Fucking annoying? Comical!”

Peter looked down, hoping that he’d bitten down the grin before Wade had had a chance to see it. He’d never let Peter live that down. Oh good lord, did he like that buffoon? No way. No fucking way.

“Petey?” He looked up; Wade was staring at him with wide eyes. “You’ve been speaking aloud, ya know?” Wade said, his grin widening as he spoke. Peter’s eyes widened almost comically.

“Are you serious?” His voice came out as a miserable squawk. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat. He repeated the question in a deeper tone.

“Nah,” Wade swallowed his bite of taco, and took another bite. “I was just tryin’ ta’ mess with ya’.” At least that’s what Peter assumed he’d said. His words were garbled through the half-chewed up taco. Wade swallowed again, and Peter slapped the taco from his hand before he bit into it again. “Hey!” Wade said, “What was that about?”

“If you’re gonna speak, don’t do it with food in your mouth,” Peter said.

Wade rolled his eyes, and began collecting the taco stuffing and squishing them back into the already-pathetic taco. “Whatever you say, man. But anyway, what were you thinkin’ about that had you so worried you’d spoken aloud?”

Peter froze, biting into his taco to avoid responding. He pointed to his mouth to show he couldn’t speak. Wade rolled his eyes again, but he started talking to himself again nonetheless, so Peter got away with it.

Peter debated feigning a sweat-wipe from his forehead, but he figured that was more of a Wade-thing to do. Too unsubtle. Peter almost grinned, he was way more subtle that Wade. If Wade could’ve read his thoughts, he’d have rolled his eyes.

It was when they were walking home that Peter realized it must be true: he liked Wade fucking Winston Wilson; his dumbass roommate who called himself the “Merc with a Mouth” despite being everything but a paid-gun for hire. Despite, in fact, being an unpaid college student with barely enough money to pay for Taco-Tuesday, and laundry every other month. He, Peter Benjamin Parker, with straight B’s in most of his classes, and a supposed crush on that pretty blonde in his sociology lecture, had a tiny crush on Wade Wilson.

Wade knocked into a street lamp mid-rant and Peter nearly doubled over with laughter.

Okay, scratch tiny. Peter was smitten.

Chapter Text

Peter spent a week thinking about his new-found “crush.” He sighed dramatically, not even caring that Wade looked at him funny. Wade, of all people. That girl—he’d since found out her name was Gwen—was so pretty, and smart, and she actually laughed at a few of his awkward quips. Why couldn’t he like her? In the week he spent thinking about Wade, he’d asked Gwen out and they’d gotten coffee. Not at Wade’s place though. He was avoiding going in there.

He found out her favorite color was purple, and that her dad had died in her junior year of high school. Killed in action, she said. She had three brothers, and she wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps and go to Yale for Grad school. She was so much nicer, quieter, and frankly, more enjoyable than Wade, and yet… His mind kept straying.

He thought of the way Wade always forgot to turn his alarm off on the weekends. He thought of that smile on Wade’s face when other people laughed at his jokes.  He even thought of Wade’s annoying habit of eating all the ice cream and then putting it back in the freeze for Peter to throw out. Wade was obnoxious, yes. But somewhere in the past three years of living with the guy, he’d gotten used to it. Hell, he’d even come to expect Wade’s quirks… Let alone enjoy them.

Wade was flirty, and cranky in the mornings. He was horrible at most video games, but kicked Peter’s ass in Mario Kart every time. Wade loved rainy days, and would always call in sick at work and beg Peter to play hooky with him when the first drops of rain fell. He’d set up their beanbags like a make-shift fort and flip his mattress to the wall so they could watch the TV on the bed-frame. Then he’d order a different form of take-out every hour on the hour, and they’d just lie about watching Netflix and playing video games all day.

Despite how much Peter complained about having to ditch his classes, those sort of days were always his favorite. It was a wonder that it had taken Peter this long to notice his crush on the guy.

Gwen had been understanding to say the least. To be honest, she noticed Peter’s distraction before he did. She called him out, and after he explained the situation, she was…great about it. About everything, actually. She even gave him her phone number and said that despite Peter’s misunderstood attraction to her, she could see them becoming great friends. “Hey,” she’d said as they were leaving the café. “Sexuality isn't a straight line.”

“But, I've always been straight. I dated a girl freshman year, Felicia? And I was practically in love with her. How can I be so straight one minute and so… not the next?” Peter said, holding the door open for Gwen.

Gwen shrugged, “Just because you've always liked girls, doesn't mean you’re not open to liking guys. Everyone struggles with their sexuality.” She took a sip of the coffee she’d grabbed to go, and after swallowing, said, “You might not be straight, but you’re not gay. And you might not even be bisexual. Who really needs a definition? Maybe you’re attracted to girls’, but you need more of a connection to the guy before you start to...” Gwen scratched at her nose, and shrugged again, “Uh… Enjoy the view?”

Peter stopped walking, grinning at her until she stopped and turned to him. “What?” She said.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Peter said.

She bit her lip, and doubled back to stop in front of him. “Shut up,” she said. “I’m not good at this whole,” she gestured between them, “psychology thing.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she turned away, flushing. “I’m not good at this whole sexuality thing either. To be honest, I’ve struggled with it myself.” His brow rose further until it was practically tucked into his hairline.

Gwen stuck the straw from her cup in between her teeth. She sucked lazily at the remainder of the beverage, cupping the coffee between both hands. Peter said, “You?”

“Yeah, me,” Gwen laughed. She stepped to the side to throw out her coffee cup. “I dunno. Whatever.” Peter laughed and she joined him, hand on her hip, nose crinkling as she laughed. She brushed her bangs to the side, and Peter tried not to find all her fidgety motions endearing. “I’m just trying to say.” Peter mumbled, ‘—and failing at it,’ under his breath to which she shot him a glare. She cleared her throat, “I’m trying to say that you shouldn’t be so afraid. Just let it go where it goes.”

“You’re not very inspiring,” Peter told her as they started walking again.

“Oh thanks,” she said. “I won’t quit my day job.”

Peter nodded, thinking about what she’d said. He was about to respond when Gwen interrupted him. “Demisexual,” she almost shouted. Peter blinked, stepping away and putting his hands over his ears. She grimaced, “Oh. Sorry.”

“What?” Peter said.

Gwen listed the terms on her fingers as she said them, “Heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, demisexual, asexual, transsexual, polysexual… There’s probably more I can’t think of.” Peter blinked at her, what? There was that many? “It’s not black and white anymore, Peter.”

“What’s demisexual?”

“It means that you have to have an emotional connection with the person before the physical attraction comes along,” Gwen said. Peter nodded, that sounded about right. “Or wait… That other one… Uh… Pomosexual. Yeah, that’s the one that’s a non-orientation. People of the ‘sexuality’ don’t identify as a specific label and want to like…” She waved her hands around in an attempt to pick her train of thought back up, “Disregard labels as a whole.”

Peter nodded, “Either or.”

“See?” Gwen said, smiling at him, “There’s a gray area. You don’t have to be entirely gay for Wade.”

Peter stopped, staring at Gwen with wide eyes. “I don’t think I ever said it was Wade I liked.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, and backed up to face him, “You didn’t, but I figured it out pretty easily. I mean, come on, Peter! His was the only name you’ve mentioned besides your Aunt May, and I’m pretty sure that I’m not helping you with sexing up your maternal figure.”

Peter nearly choked on his own spit, “What? Ew!”

“I’m kidding, take a joke,” Gwen laughed, snorting at the disgruntled expression still on his face. “Come on, Peter.”

Peter let out a full-body shiver. He feigned choking to death, and actually swallowed his spit the wrong way. He coughed aggressively, and Gwen patted him on the back, still rolling her eyes at his antics. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, repeating exactly what he’d been thinking.

“At least I’m not short,” he said, and immediately regretted it. “That was lame.”

“Yeah,” Gwen said, “Yeah, it was pretty lame. I mean aw gee, how unfortunate that I’m so dang short.” She grinned at him, and stopped walking. Peter looked up, briefly confused until he realized they’d arrived at her dorm.

“This is the part where I kiss you, right?” Peter asked, grinning and leaning toward her.

Gwen put a hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping him, “As much as I’d love a half-assed kiss from a guy who likes someone else.” She patted his chest, clearing her throat to ease the awkwardness of the moment. “Anyway, thanks for the coffee, Peter. Let’s do this again without false assumptions as to where it’ll lead, yeah?”

Peter nodded dumbly, “Yeah.”

“Good,” Gwen backed up, turning the doorknob behind her without looking, “Good. Bye!” She spun around, but the door remained closed and locked as she had not slid her ID through the slot before trying to open it. Peter laughed, and backed away.

“Bye, Gwen,” he said. She waved sheepishly, and actually got the door open on her second try. Peter turned away once she’d gotten into her building. It was lucky for him that his dorm was half way across campus as he still wanted to avoid Wade for as long as possible.

And that’s where we started. Back to present. Peter walked slow, avoiding crossing in front of Johnny’s dorm, the dining hall, Wade’s café, and inevitably the bedroom he’d have to return to.

He thought about what Gwen had said about sexuality, ignoring how foolish and ignorant he might’ve seemed in the moment. So, he probably wasn’t gay… especially if his crushes on Felicia and Gwen alike were anything to go by. Plus there was that girl who lived on his aunt’s street… Mary Jane, was it? Yeah, MJ, that was it. He liked Wade, so what? It wasn’t that odd, especially in college, to… explore your sexuality. Peter almost laughed aloud at the thought. Wade would’ve. An exploration of his sexuality, how stereotypically ‘college’ of him.

The thing was… this wasn’t… this didn’t feel like an exploration. It felt like—what, exactly? It wasn’t love, but it was much more than affection. It was a blossoming feeling that spread through his body the more time he spent with Wade.

This wasn’t puppy love, and he wouldn’t diminish his or Wade’s feelings by calling in an ‘exploration of his sexuality.’ As Gwen had said earlier, the spectrum wasn’t a straight line, it was faded and graying. He didn’t need a label to know that he liked Wade. He didn’t need a label to go for it.

Peter stopped walking. Go for it? How could he go for it when he’d barely just figured out what ‘it’ was?

Chapter Text

“Peter?” Wade called from down the hall. For fucks sake, he’d barely stepped off the elevator. He’d hoped—although he knew it was a stretch—that maybe Wade would be out when he’d returned. Wade’s voice came closer, turning the corner and materializing beside the elevator. “Where’ve you been all afternoon?”

Peter shrugged, helpless as to how he should answer. He didn’t want to jeopardize his meager chances with Wade by admitting he’d gone on a date, but to be honest, it hadn’t really been a date, per se. They’d parted friends, and there was no kiss at the end. Could he lie while still being honest in saying that it hadn’t been a date? He’d certainly asked her out with every intention of making it a date.

He side-stepped Wade and walked toward their dorm-room, Wade following close behind him. He turned the key just as Wade started questioning him again. “Were you on a date?” His voice was quiet, but grew in volume as he continued, “Were you with Storm? You playing on stealing him away from me? Well, it’s too late cause I’ve already asked him out!”

Peter froze, his hand on the doorknob. What? “What?” He turned to Wade.

Wade grinned, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “Yup! Me and Johnny Storm are going on a date tomorrow night!” He pushed past Peter into their shared room. He flopped on his bed, pouting up at the ceiling as if in thought. “Ya think he can get me free tacos?”

Peter reached in and tugged the door shut. Creating a barrier between Wade in the room, and him in the hall. He heard Wade call his name but he ignored the sound, leaning his forehead against the door as he realized what a mistake he’d made. There was a pause where he debated what he should do next, and then Wade yanked the door open and Peter tumbled to the floor on top of him.

Wade chuckled, splaying out on the floor almost provocatively, “This is so clichéd. You’d think the author would have better taste, eh?”

Peter stood up, not without elbowing Wade in the stomach “accidentally, sheesh. I’m sorry” and knocking his knee against the door. “I have no idea what you’re going on about,” Peter said, moving toward his bed without even offering a hand to Wade. “As always.”

He pulled himself onto his bed and grabbed his laptop, opening it on his stomach before Wade could collapse on top of him, “Oh. Ya know, the author of this fanfic? It’s a weird sort of AU this time, like why would we be in the same year, let alone well-behaved roommates? I’m so much older than you canonically.”

“I thought you said my comic book started decades before yours,” Peter harrumphed, opening up his Facebook page to friend Gwen; he’d have to send her a message when she accepted. She’d probably know what he should do.

Wade climbed on top of him, stopping when his ass was firmly planted between Peter’s legs. He made noises like he was multiple people cheering. “I thought you didn’t listen to my what-do-you-call-em-rants?”

“Your ‘fourth wall’ rants?”

“Yeah, those!”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his already messy-hair, “I don’t. You’re not omniscient. Shut up.” He could feel Wade staring at him even through the laptop. Peter clicked on the ‘Add Friend’ link and closed his laptop. He slid it off to the side, and met Wade’s stare. “What?”

“Why’d you close the door like that?” Wade asked; he was still staring at Peter and it unnerved him. He was so focused and serious about the question. Wade was never serious in his life. Why start now? Peter pulled his legs from around Wade and got up to walk over to his desk. He couldn’t take Wade’s searching eyes. He felt too open and vulnerable.

He felt like Wade could take one look at him and know everything. Despite the fact that Wade had, not so subtly, been flirting with Peter for the past three years, who knew what truth those empty pick-up lines held? For all he knew about Wade’s true intentions, the guy could just be flirting for fun. He knew how flustered Peter got over the lines, and the slaps, and the cat-calling. Wade enjoyed making fun of him, what if he also enjoyed flirting with him? What if he was just doing it jokingly?

He probably was.

Why would Wade like Peter? He’d been flirting with Peter for 3 years with no change in reaction. Insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results and Peter wouldn’t go so far as to call Wade insane, per se.  

Wade repeated the question. Peter sat at his desk and tipped the chair back. He eyed the ceiling for a long moment, before responding. “I guess I don’t like the idea of you and Johnny Storm,” he admitted. Wade was hovering over him before he’d even blinked. Peter balked and let go of the desk, his back his the floor. He rubbed at his head, once again anxious about Wade’s staring.

“Why?” Wade asked, leaning even closer toward Peter who was now traded against the floor. Wade was too close for him to breathe. He started breathing shallow to avoid sharing oxygen.  “You jealous?”

This time the air didn’t even fill up his lungs. His heart sank into his stomach. He must’ve looked as flabbergasted as he felt, because Wade took a step back. Peter sat up slow, pushing himself so his back was against the wall. He curled his legs into his chest and tried to sink back into the hallway. Having the ability to phase through walls would certainly come in handy right about then.

Wade looked startled as well. His eyes were wide, his mouth parted and gaping, he opened and closed it like a fish out of water. It might’ve been the first time Peter had ever seen Wade Wilson speechless. “You are,” he said. And Peter’s eyes widened even further, if that was even possible. He shook his head back and forth.

Wade jumped up and down, “You are. You are! You’re jealous!”

“No, I’m not!” Peter said, standing up and facing him. He glared at Wade, “I’m not.”

Wade nodded back, grin widening to cross half his face, “Peter’s jealous! Peter’s jealous!” He began twirling in circles and dancing around the cramped dorm. He darted into his closet, still shouting the repetitive chant. When he reemerged, he was wearing a bright pink dress.

Peter was taken aback, “Where’d you get that?” Wade twirled around, impersonating a ballerina. “How’d you change so fast? What the fuck, Wade?” Wade was still chanting and singing. By this point, he was loud enough to be heard in the hallway. The RA’s would probably come knocking soon. Peter would have to shut this down fast. “No, Wade! I’m not jealous,” he said again.

“You’re jealous!” Wade sang, and Peter was surprised by how high and—good?—his voice sounded. “You’re jealous and you wanna date me. You think I'm gorgeous, you want to kiss me...You want to hug me... You want to love me... You want to hug me... You want to smooch me... You want to…” Wade broke off singing. He opened one eye and squinted at Peter.

Peter said, “I hope you don’t think I’m going to reenact Miss Congeniality with you.” He brushed past Wade and sat on his bed. “Cause that is far from happening.”

Wade pouted, “But—”

“Ask your boyfriend to do it.” Peter tried—really, he did—to keep the envy out of his voice. He tried to huff the words out sarcastically, in a way that meant he was mocking Wade, not jealous of Johnny. Wade was too far gone to see anything but Peter’s green eyes.

“Nah,” Wade was much closer than he’d expected when Peter turned to meet his gaze. He leaned onto the bed, over Peter, who flinched back, thus caging him in. Wade said, “I just said that to see if you’d react.”

Peter flushed. His laptop dug into his back, and he wanted to push it aside but that would mean moving closer to Wade, and even the thought of that was terrifying.

Wade leaned closer; a moment ago, Peter wouldn’t have believed that possible, but then here they were, sharing breaths. “Boy,” Wade said, pressing his face into Peter’s neck. Peter didn’t know whether to feel anxious or relieved. “The sexual tension in this room is palpable. Ha. Never thought I’d be using words like palpable, did ya, Petey?” He traced the contours of Peter’s shoulder and jawline with the tip of his nose. Peter sucked in a breath.

“Get off me,” he said, but it was so garbled by his breathlessness that Wade barely even heard him speak. Wade sat back a bit, eyeing him. “I said,” Peter cleared his throat, the motion forcing Wade back an inch further. “Get off me.”

Wade grinned, “But you don’t mean that, do ya, Petey?”

Having had enough, Peter pushed Wade from his person. Wade stared up at him from the floor, “I told you to stop, Wade,” Peter said.

The door slammed behind him.

Chapter Text

When Peter came back later, the room was empty. He sighed, he was actually hoping Wade would be there. He wanted to apologize. He’d been so flustered and confused earlier, that he’d stormed off like a child. He sat on his bed, pulling his laptop into his lap. He checked Twitter, as Wade was known for making idiotic updates on his locations.

Wade hadn’t updated since yesterday. Hopefully he wasn’t too upset about Peter storming off. He hadn’t really meant it. He was just… annoyed. More at himself than at Wade. He honestly had wanted Wade to close the distance and press himself fully against Peter, but when he just kept teasing him, Peter didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t form the words to do anything but disagree with Wade’s assumptions. Wade probably thought Peter genuinely didn’t want him.

Peter slid down his bed so he was staring up at the ceiling. There was glow-in-the-dark stars pasted to every inch of it, Wade’s solution for his brief bout of homesickness. Peter had tried to explain that there weren’t stars over his apartment in New York City, but Wade hadn’t listened. He’d sang Disney songs while putting them up.

The door opened. “Ya know,” Wade said, and Peter was surprised that he wasn’t going to even feign anger for dramatics. “Your ass looks pretty fine when you’re leaving.”

Peter almost laughed, he shifted up to lean on his elbows. “Wade,” he started, “I’m—”

“Oh don’t apologize, Petey.” Wade hoped onto his bed near his feet, “You do you, I do me. You act like we’ve never bickered before.”

“Well, I—” Peter tried again, but Wade seemed to have something against him finishing.

“Stop trying to apologize,” Wade said, looking at him seriously, but it was hard when Wade was still wearing the dress from earlier.

Peter stared at him, “You wore that out?”

Wade grinned. He hopped off the bed and posed, then twirled around to lift up the skirts, “Don’t I look dashing?”

Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “Come here.” He said, reaching out an arm for Wade.

Wade allowed him to take his wrist and tug him closer. Peter leaned their foreheads together, “Listen, Wade.” Wade opened his mouth to interrupt, but Peter continued talking, “No. Let me talk. I’m sorry about earlier I was just flustered cause I do…” Peter closed his eyes to avoid seeing Wade’s expression. “I do like you.” He finished lamely.

He expected Wade to sing, or dance, or make some stupid quip. He didn’t expect Wade to lean forward and press their lips together. “I know,” Wade said against his mouth. Peter’s eyes widened, but he relaxed as Wade grinned into the kiss. Wade broke off, leaning back and staring at Peter, whose eyes were still wide. “So is this some kind of asexual attraction where you just like what you see but you don’t wanna buy the merchandise?”

Peter was still holding onto his wrist, and he used it to yank Wade back to him. This time, he put a bit more feeling into the kiss. He angled Wade’s jaw after letting go of his wrist, and slid his other hand into Wade’s hair. Wade made a tiny noise into the kiss and, with their lips still connected, pushed Peter back so he could crawl over him. One hand found Peter’s ass, and Peter grinned against him.

Wade pulled back, kissing down Peter’s collarbone, “Hey Petey, since this is a fanfic and all, you got some of that handy top-drawer lube?”

“What are you—What?” Peter startled up, knocking Wade to the side in his effort to sit up. “No! We’re not having sex right now,” Peter glared at Wade.

“But—” Wade protested.

Peter said, “Get off my bed. I take it all back.”

“Aw Pete,” Wade said, leaning in toward him again, “Don’t be like that—”

Peter sat up fully, and pushed Wade to the floor. “Wade, shut the fuck up. We’re not having sex.” Wade pouted. Peter hopped off his bed and smoothed out the front of his shirt, “At least,” he said. “Not right yet.” With that, he ran out the door.

“Wait! Peter,” he heard Wade call after him. “How far off is yet?”