Work Text:
Peter stands beside him holding his arm up to the bloody stump that it’s been ripped from. It won’t take too long to heal now that it’s reattached, but Peter rubs soothing circles into his shoulder-blade in sympathy and kisses him like he can distract him from the pain anyways.
And even though his injuries aren’t that bad and will probably heal before they are even halfway home, Wade whines and leans into the touch until Peter pulls him closer to support his weight so that they hobble away together.
It may take longer, and involves a lot of really fake limping, but Peter doesn’t complain. He just smiles and holds him, helping him home.
….
Back when the thing between them had still been in the tentative flirting stage, Wade had broken into Peter’s apartment once to find him wrapped up like a burrito in his blankets, shivering and sweating simultaneously.
Ignoring the weak protests about breaking and entering, Wade had crept closer to gingerly place a hand to his forehead. Peter’s skin was hot, and his eyes unfocused from the fever burning him up.
Though he wasn’t quite sure what to do (because he hadn’t been sick himself since the good ol’ healing factor had first kicked in) Wade was pretty sure soup was supposed to be the be all end all cure for this sort of thing.
So he found himself in Peter’s little kitchen, ladling scalding liquid into a bowl, and leaving the mess from his culinary experiments behind to present his offering to the sick man in the next room.
Peter was babbling, though this was fevered nonsense rather than his normal, adorable nerd gibberish, so Wade silenced him with a kiss (no fear of catching whatever nasty little virus was swimming around in there), and spoon-fed him despite fervent protestation.
Once the bowl was empty, Wade tossed it to the side, smiling evilly when Peter flinched at the sound of it smashing. He had wrapped his arms around his Parker burrito, singing horrible renditions of pop songs until Peter finally fell into a deep sleep.
…..
Peter likes to push him.
He pushes him off of him when Wade sprawls out over him like a human snuggie, despite the fact that the air conditioning is broken. He pushes him when he thinks he’s being an idiot (all the time), and he’s even pushed him off a roof once. Thankfully he had webbed him to safety, saving him from an unpleasant splat landing at the last second, but the silence at Peter’s apartment that night had still been strained. It was the principle of the thing really, throwing people off of things was rude (and don’t you dare bring up that bridge incident…he hadn’t known it was Peter, so it didn’t count, and with their mutual sketchy continuity it’s possibly it never even happened, so he’ll thank you to shush).
He’s pushed him out of rooms when he was getting violent or other people were getting murderous glints in their eyes, and pushed him towards things like the shower before he dripped blood all over the new carpet.
He also likes to push him up against the wall and ravage him, which Wade is extremely fond of.
But it’s when Peter pulls him that he feels like he’s high off of air, when his heart beats like it might rip out of his chest.
Peter pulls him down the street, laughing as they break into a run, pulls him closer to steal his heat when he’s cold, and pulls him in to steal a kiss before they’re off, swinging through the city at high speed, dizzy from altitude and from the way they’re holding hands through it all.
One night on the couch Peter pulls him nearer to him, their arms wrapped around each other so tight that Wade’s surprised it was possible for them to get any closer. Peter’s head is on his shoulder, every inch of them pressed together in an embrace that feels different than the way they usually touch.
They stay like that all night, pressed too close, and too warm, and Wade is suddenly terrified because the feeling coursing through him is too much, and he never knew that he could be this happy.
…..
Sometimes, staring at Peter’s sleeping face Wade can’t help himself. While he’s sleeping and peaceful, the tension absent from his prone form, Wade loves to touch him.
Not like that, you pervert.
Okay…occasionally like that, because who doesn’t like that kind of wake-up call, but more often his touches are lingering, light and searching.
His fingertips brush Peter’s cheeks, sweep gently over his closed eyelids, and gingerly explore his lips even when he’s drooling into the pillow.
He can’t help but wonder when the other shoe is going to drop, because if there has been one constant in his life it’s been pain, and everything good he’s ever had has been ripped away from him before he has too long to enjoy it. He worries that Peter’s going to suffer, that his payment for this brief happiness will be Peter’s pain, and the thought is unbearable.
He lets his scarred fingers brush lightly over his arms, and Peter sighs, shifting, but not waking.
Wade is an ass. He’s loud and obnoxious, and inappropriate. He can be cruel at times, and too needy, and he knows he isn’t easy to live with or easy to love, but Peter sticks around despite all that, and Wade is thankful.
He’s trying his best to love Peter like he deserves to be loved, to quell the ugliness he feels inside, the monster like a disease, like the cancer but worse, but he isn’t sure if he can ever really be enough.
But Peter is his hero, and Wade knows he’d do anything for him, so for now he strokes his hair and watches a smile spread on Peter’s sleeping face, praying that this piece of goodness in his life, for once, will last.
…..
The first time Peter had touched him gently had been a shock.
The light brush of a hand down his bare face had sent him reeling harder than a punch could have. Peter had shrugged off the full body jerk, pressing forward, despite Wade’s wide eyes and defensive stance, to kiss his cheek in thanks.
“What was that for?” he grunts, his voice low and rough, like he’s been screaming.
“You could have killed him, but you didn’t,” Peter shrugs, his eyes earnestly searching Wade’s expression. When he doesn’t find disgust in the mixed emotions dancing there he leans forward again to kiss his lips, and Wade feels himself melt, as cliché as that is, as their lips press together in their very first kiss.
…..
Peter and Wade wander down the street, their hands entwined and waving as Peter enthusiastically rants about… some science guy maybe? He isn’t really sure, he’s more focused on the way his eyes have lit up and he looks like he’s glowing with energy, practically bouncing in step with him along the crowded street.
It’s adorable.
Peter catches him staring, and his smile gets even brighter, if that’s possible, as he leans over so that the length of their arms are firmly pressed together.
“And the people of New York don’t even know! Isn’t that crazy! You’d think they’d notice they’re all becoming mole-people and there’s nothing we can…”
Wade halts suddenly.
“Wait what?!” he exclaims, and Peter doubles over in laughter. “Was wondering when you’d tune in,” he gasps, ducking aside as Wade aims an affectionate punch at his side.
“You’re an annoying little shit,” he says, but he draws him back towards him, wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s waist.
“Love you too baby,” Peter mocks, but the way his arm tightens around him makes Wade think that, just maybe, he actually means it.