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"It could be worse."
"How could it possibly be worse, Wade?"
"I mean, you have to admit, the irony is hilarious."
On literally any other day, in any other situation, Peter might have actually agreed. Spider-man being trapped in the web of a literal giant spider? He's kind of surprised it hasn't happened before now, honestly, a crazed scientist who loved genetic experimentation--why are there so many of those in New York?--let his giant tarantula loose in the sewers. Now, he's wrapped in webs from head-to-toe, dangling upside down (is this how the bad guys feel?), slowly turning in circles while Wade is stuck to the giant spider's web. And also severed in half. It's been quite the day.
"Listen, once I grow a new set of legs, I'll totally be able to get out," Wade says, wiggling the old legs for emphasis. "Maybe if I like, break my hip or something I can reach the knife in my sleeve, and then--"
"What, grab it with your toes and cut yourself down?" Peter scoffs. The blood rushing to his head is starting to get to him. "Won't your boots be in the way?"
Wade is suddenly, worryingly, silent. Peter, still in his slow orbit from hell, is currently facing the back wall and can't see his face. Wade waits until he (extremely slowly) spins back to face him.
"Webs...do you think my clothes grow back with me?" Wade says slowly, making intense eye contact through the mask.
Peter pauses. "Huh. I guess i never thought about it. That would be pretty stupid."
Wade waits.
"Oh my GOD," Peter shrieks. "I'M GOING TO SEE YOUR PENIS BEFORE YOUR FACE!" He groans to himself, wishing he could bury his head in his hands. Or maybe just straight underground, really. This is mortifying.
"Wait, you're worried about the face part?? Not, like, my scarred alien cucumber up in your eyeballs?" The whites of Wade's mask widen comically.
"I mean, that too!" Peter corrects hurriedly. He doesn't want Wade to get the wrong idea.
Or the right idea.
Okay, so maybe Peter has a tiny, baby, itsy-bitsy (heh) crush on Wade. The guy is built like a brick shithouse. Like a thick, sexy rigatoni noodle next to Peter's skinny linguini self. And maybe he sometimes has funny jokes. And can be kind of nice. And brings Peter donuts from all the way across the borough when he's having a bad day. And once hugged Peter and was so large and warm and rock solid that Peter melted into a gooey boneless puddle and forever cemented the image that Wade's biceps are almost the size of his head. And maybe Peter has been dying to see Wade's face (his full face, not just his dumb attractive smile dripping with hot sauce from the tacos they sometimes share) for awhile, but didn't want to push but was still hoping Wade would trust him enough to show him on his own terms.
Maybe it's a big crush. Sue him.
"Listen, Spidey, we are definitely going to unpack that later," Wade says with a salacious wink and what is clearly a grin under the mask, "but I think I hear Dr. Fuckface and Aragog coming back and while my legs haven't quite hit puberty, I think it's time to get some potatoes on this gravy train." He starts wriggling a bit, careful not to get his new legs stuck to the webbing. Thankfully (?) there's still enough of the top of his suit left to cover... whatever might be between his legs right now. Peter is determinedly not thinking about it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Peter sees Dr. Fuckface (definitely not his real name, but Peter's pretty sure his brain cells are starting to explode and can't be bothered) shambling back from whatever corner of the sewer he was in, followed by his giant, disgusting pet. Peter loves spiders, he feels kind of obligated to, but this 10-foot-tall monstrosity that's drooling long, steaming globs of what he assumes is venom is just gross.
"Uh, Wade," Peter hisses, still facing the weird doctor and spider duo, "you might want to hurry up."
"Ugh, fine," he hears from behind him, followed by a loud, painful sounding pop. "I was almost full-grown, too, you really woulda seen me at my best."
Peter shuts his eyes and wills his brain to not go running along with that idea. He's probably down to two brain cells and he will be so annoyed with himself if he uses them thinking about Wade's newly-grown dick instead of how to get the hell out of here.
"Ah, Mr. Spider-man," Dr. Fuckface leers up at him. He kind of looks like Albert Einstein, if Albert Einstein were covered in radioactive spider drool and also...wearing nothing under his lab coat. Did Peter miss some kind of nudity memo today? "My sweet Francesca and I have waited so long for this moment.”
“Actually, just Spider-man is fine,” Peter shoots back at him. “Wait, did you name that thing Francesca??” He’s genuinely confused, but he’s also stalling. What the hell is taking Wade so long?
“Thing???” Dr. Fuckface screeches. “This beautiful lady is a pristine example of arachno-genetic perfection, unlike you.” The doctor gets close to his face, sneering at Peter. “The great Spider-man, everyone’s hero, making a mockery of those of us who truly appreciate what science can accomplish. You think you’re strong? Francie will break you in half in one bite.”
With that, Dr. Fuckface beckons with a finger, and Francie starts scuttling closer. For the first time, Peter is starting to feel very afraid. He has absolutely no doubt that this particular spider could crush him easily with her size alone.
“Um...Wade?”
No response. Peter’s heart speeds up as Francesca draws closer. He can feel her hot breath (breath? Is that a thing for spiders? Weird) on his face. The concrete ground of the sewer sizzles where the drool-venom drips down. This is very not good.
Suddenly, Peter is hit with a thought. A terrible, horrible, no-good-very-bad thought that made his heart plummet much more than his impending death. What if Wade had left him to die? He had thought they were friends, at least; even if Wade didn’t reciprocate his crush, they had gotten to a point where they hung out and paired up a few times a week. Granted, he was a mercenary, but he was getting better. Peter thought he was getting better, and had told him on several occasions. The idea that Wade cared so little he would just leave was too much.
“You know, usually I’m not into vore, but I guess for a hot broad like you I can make an exception,” Peter says to the open mouth of the spider in front of his face. If he’s going to die in this most stupid of ways, he’s at least going to be an asshole about it. And he’s definitely not going to cry about it, even if he kind of wants to.
“Wow, you’d explore kinks with her but not me? I’m offended, Webs, I thought we were bros!” Peter feels a sharp blade slice down his back, just shy of cutting through his suit but severing the webs wrapped around him, at the same time as he hears the indignant voice. Falling to the ground in a very ungraceful heap, he looks up to see Wade, standing over him with both katanas at the ready, and wearing...bell bottoms?
“Sorry it took so long, Spides, I had to find a pair of pants.” Wade steps over him and stalks toward Francesa as he talks. “I don’t mind you seeing Benny and the Jets, but these two freak shows? Buy a guy tacos first!”
In a flash, Wade is spinning through the air, slicing and kicking, his blades just faint blurs in darkness of the sewer. A horrible cry escapes the giant spider as he hacks off two of her legs on one side, and she falls to the ground hard, pinning her master down. Peter, of course, is still lying useless and bewildered on the sewer floor (ew) while the blood rushes away from his throbbing head.
“I think it’s time for you and your weird, hairy mistress to GTFO,” Wade says sweetly, while pointing one of his Desert Eagles between Dr. Fuckface’s eyes, which are widened in terror. “Next time you want to find someone to double-date with, I’d suggest using the world wide web.”
“Deadpool, wait!” Peter finally got up and approaches Wade, hands out in a non-threatening gesture. Wade narrows his eyes at him. There’s a beat that feels like it lasts forever, them staring at each other, Peter not needing or wanting to say it out loud.
Wade sighs. “Fine,” he mutters, lowering the gun. “Call the cops or whatever it is you superheros do. See ya, Spider-man.” He quickly bounds away out of sight in the darkness of the sewer.
Peter runs a hand over his face and groans. This is not how he had pictured this going. He quickly shoots some more webbing over Dr. Fuckface and Francesca (“I’ll kill you for this, you’ll see! Francie will have her meal one day!”) to secure them before making a call to the police to pick them up.
Above ground again, and breathing in the sweet, fresh city air--and who would have thought he’d ever say that about Manhattan--he takes a running leap and starts webbing himself north. He’s not entirely sure, but he has an idea of where he should go.
Arms aching from the speed at which he was flying through the city, he finally comes to a quiet perch on a rooftop, eyeing the silhouette at the other end.
“Damn, I was counting on your princess self wanting to go shower first,” Wade says, still facing out into the city. “Come on then,” he turned his face to look at Peter, “get on with the lecture, there’s a new episode of Chopped tonight and I wanted to get my judgement on when someone inevitably tries to use the ice cream machine.” His mask is rolled up to his nose. Peter almost asks why, but then sees the venti mocha frappucino (extra whipped cream, extra chocolate drizzle) in his hand.
“No lecture, Wade,” Peter sighs and sits down next to him, dangling his legs over the building. “You did good today. And I owe you one.”
Wade hands him a caramel frappucino that was sitting next to him out of sight. “Nah, Webs, it’s okay. I got you.”
Peter took the icy drink out of his hand slowly. Wade was right, he did always have Peter. Whether it was watching his six or getting him a dumb 800-calorie drink that Peter loved, even when he should be the one apologizing, Wade was always there.
“Listen, Wade, about what I said earlier--”
“The penis thing? Don’t sweat it, Spidey, I was just poking fun.” Wade is still not looking at him. “This may be a shock to you, but not many people want to see my dick or my face. I can’t blame you for being one of ‘em.”
“What? No!” Peter sputtered, choking on his drink. “I do want to see it!”
Wade turns and stares at him. Peter blushes, glad his mask mostly covers his cheeks. “Your face, I mean. Like, eventually. When you’re comfortable, or whatever, you know.” Oh no, he’s starting to babble. “I mean you have a really nice smile and I’m sure the rest of your face is just as great and I know you’re probably self conscious--” shut up, Parker! “--but like, I hope you won’t be with me because I want to see all of you.”
Shit.
Wade is still staring blankly at him. Peter, panicking, attempts to backtrack and inevitably makes it worse. “I mean, not all of you--unless, that’s what you want? I mean not that I’d be opposed, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you have a rockin’ bod--” oh my god, what is he saying, this is the worst moment of his life “--and I’ve definitely noticed, but like, not to objectify you or anything because that’s really fucked up, you know, the male gaze and all, I’m not sure if it works that way between dudes but it’s still gross, and I’m kind of wondering what you’re thinking because you’re being really really quiet and I can’t stop talking for some reason and I was hoping you would jump in like, 100 words ago--MMPH!”
Thankfully, mercifully, Wade finally slaps a hand over Peter’s horrible, awful, embarrassing mouth-hole. He can’t believe he just said all of that. Out loud. To Wade. Who is still staring at him.
“Spidey…” Wade says slowly, hand still over Peter’s mouth. It’s cold from where he was holding his frappucino. “Webs, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Um, yeah,” Peter mumbles shakily as Wade lowers his hand. “I kind of like-like you. But only if you’re into that because if you’re not then JK! I definitely don’t like-like you and just like you because we’re broMMMMPH”
This time, Peter is silenced by Wade’s lips. He drops his frappucino in surprise (with a silent apology to the people below) and freezes for a split second before melting.
“I’ve been waiting to hear those words out of your mouth for the longest time,” Wade laughs, breathless, as he rests his forehead against Peter’s. He’s got a large, warm hand on either side of his face. “I like-like you too, Spidey.”
Peter actually giggles. He’s so relieved, so happy, he feels like he could just float right off the roof. “I can’t believe that out of all the spider-related puns, you chose world wide web.”
Wade rolls his eyes. “I was in a hurry, just let me have that.” He kisses Peter again, gently. He tastes like chocolate and coffee and whipped cream and Wade. It feels right, like this is how it was supposed to be from the very beginning.
Peter has to make sure he does this properly, though. “Listen, I know I said a lot, but you really don’t have to show me your face anytime soon. Eventually, yeah, it’d be nice, but no pressure. I like you as you are.” He leans in for another kiss.
Wade grins against his lips. “I know, Spidey. Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to see my dick first?”
“WADE!”