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It happens out of nowhere while they're sitting on top of a building eating takeout after patrolling the streets together. Deadpool tells a joke that is only marginally funny and proceeds to laugh so hard at his own joke that he starts choking. Then he actually starts choking and Peter thinks it's merely the burrito until Deadpool coughs up a handful of long red flower petals. Peter would find this concerning from anyone else but it doesn’t even break into the top ten weirdest things Deadpool has done.
“What-” Peter points to the handful of petals- “are those?”
“Nothing,” Deadpool says curtly as he crushes the petals into ball before dropping them over the side of the building, the wind scattering them. “Just forget you saw that.”
Just for once Peter would like to get an honest answer out of Deadpool, he can feel the vain in his temple throb in warning of an incoming headache. A staple around Deadpool. “How the hell am I supposed to forget that? What the hell Deadpool?”
“I had flowers for lunch.”
Peter narrows his eyes, “flowers for lunch?”
Deadpool traces a finger in small circles in the ground. “Yeah, they were in a salad.”
Peter nods along, “A flower salad. How interesting. Say, what kind of dressing do you put on a flower salad?”
Deadpool clicks his tongue in annoyance. “It was like one of those sweet berry vinaigrette kinds. Obviously. Don’t you know anything about salads, Spidey?”
“Sure I do.” Peter leans forwards, feigning interest. “Do tell me where you got this delicious sounding salad from?”
“Someplace on 4th, you know.” Deadpool waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “I was busy at the time. In a rush. Can't quite remember the name of the place.”
“Deadpool,” Peter says in the best imitation of a stern Aunt May as he can muster. “You have never eaten a salad in your life. I have heard you say you would rather have scurvy than a balanced diet.”
Deadpool shifts further away, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “I have a balanced diet.”
Peter snorts. “You asked for extra meat and cheese in your burrito and told the cook that any veggies you found you would shove up his nose.”
“Why would you want anything else, those are the best parts.”
“For a balanced diet.”
Deadpool scoffs, balling up the wrapper from his burrito and tossing it at Peter’s head. It’s easy to catch, there is no real force behind the throw.
“Seriously,” Peter says as he places the balled up garbage with his own. “What was with the petals?”
Looking away, Deadpool is solemn when he speaks, which is something of a rarity. “Look I seriously don't want to talk about this, Spidey. Please just drop it?”
Flinching back as if slapped, Peter quickly nods in agreement. He's never seen Deadpool sound so genuine. Never had him ask for something seriously. He even said please.
“You know you’re my friend and can talk to me, right?” Peter says softly. “I won't judge.”
“I know,” Deadpool says the words so quietly Peter has to strain to hear them. In an instant Deadpool shakes off the melancholy and has turned back to face Peter. “Best friends right?”
“Best work buds,” Peter laughs at the way Deadpool pouts at his comment.
----
It's a common occurrence for Deadpool to go missing for months at a time, it is surprising that Peter managed in that time to forget about the whole coughing up flower petals occurrence. In Peter's defense he almost lost his job and apartment in that time because instead of going to work he was tracking a giant lizard in the sewers for a week. It took another week to get rid of the smell.
Peter wonders how he could have forgotten when Deadpool pops back up to help with patrol and ends up taking three bullets to the chest and along with the blood there are petals spilling from his body. The bank robber they were chasing are webbed to the wall so Peter gives Deadpool his full attention.
“Don't,” Deadpool gasps, tearing the petals from his body. “Please don't look.”
“Deadpool, that's not normal!” Peter moves closer, wanting to get a better look but Deadpool just turns and walks away.
“Nothing about me is normal,” Deadpool says with a sense of false cheer that Peter probably wouldn't have picked up on a year ago.
“Deadpool,” Peter hollers out and he runs to catch up, pulling Deadpool's hand away from the wound when he does. “What is going on?”
“Nothing!”
“You're bleeding flowers!” Peter pulls a petal from one of the bullet holes and waves it in front of Deadpool. Blood drips along his fingers.
“Just a curse. No big deal.” Deadpool says with a shrug of his shoulders. He pulls the petal from Peter's fingers and drops it to the ground. He grinds it into the ground with the tip of his boot.
“A curse.”
“Yup!” There is that false cheer again as Deadpool smacks Peter on the back. He grips Peter's shoulder and lingers a second longer than would be considered appropriate before letting go. Like with all his touches. It's a reflex at this point to shove the man away.
“Deadpool, curses are not a normal everyday sort of thing you just brush off.”
“Yeah, well I've already looked into it so just drop it okay? I’ve got it sorted.” Deadpool pleads, getting visibly upset.
Reluctantly, Peter listens and let's Deadpool leave.
When it takes another three weeks for Deadpool to pop back up into Peter’s life, Peter starts to suspect the Deadpool is purposefully avoiding him in hopes that he’ll forget about the garden Deadpool seems to be cultivating in his body.
Honestly, you would think after the years they’ve spent together Deadpool would be used to the fact that Peter never lets things go. Peter can play along though, he lets Deadpool pretend that everything is back to normal. Even if the Merc doesn’t seem to be operating at peak performance, being overly cautious like he doesn’t want to over exert himself. Doesn’t want to run out of breath and start choking.
So maybe Peter runs a little faster. Maybe he works a little harder but he’d going to get to the bottom of this and have Deadpool admit something is wrong.
He forgets to factor in Deadpool wanting to throw in the towel early, usually he has to pry the man off him so he can head home for the night. It didn’t even occur to him that Deadpool might sit down in the middle of an alley and call it quits.
“Seriously, I’m pretty sure your healing factor prevents you from getting tired.” Peter scolds.
Deadpool’s head thumps back against the bricks, “Maybe I’m tired of you.”
“Wow.” Peter can’t help the way the comment stings. It’s not the first time he’s heard that, he just never thought Deadpool would feel that way. “Okay. That’s new.”
“You should get a new act, it’s always the same old boring routine with you. Had to get bored eventually.”
“Yeah, please, don’t hold back,” Peter sneers, knowing Deadpool is just trying to get a rise out of him but unable to not take the comments personally. “It’s not like you begged me for this or anything.”
“We all make mistakes.”
Peter can’t even look at Deadpool in that moment, the words ringing loud in his head. Why does Peter always get told he’s a mistake?
“Well you get your wish then,” Peter throws back as he shoots a web and pulls himself up out of the alley and away not wanting to prolong the moment a minute longer.
Which he knows is a mistake when two days later, on his way home from work he see Deadpool. The man is hunched over, hacking up flowers into a trash can outside a subway station exit. No one pays him any attention, passing him by with hardly a glance. Peter is transfixed, stopped in the middle of a sea of people trying to push their way past. The awful thing is that even though Deadpool obviously could use a helping hand there is no way Peter is willing to risk his secret identity. So he turns and ignores the way his heart clenches at the sight to go catch the train home.
Guilt over the incident eats away at Peter, so in an attempt to be of some use to the Merc he seeks out some help in looking into this so called curse that is plaguing Deadpool.
Which is how he ends up waiting in the entrance hall of the Sanctum Sanctorum for Dr. Strange to make some time to see him. It takes all of Peter’s self control to not do any poking around while left alone. Well, to not do too much poking around, he stops after a small box tries to bite his finger off when he opens it.
It’s just when he thinks he’s truly had enough of waiting around and is just about to wander off to find someone in the forsaken building that the doors burst open for Dr. Strange to make a dramatic entrance. It’s theatrical in nature but not as outlandish as some of Deadpool’s. Deadpool puts some real effort in. There have been fireworks and confetti cannons on occasion.
Peter explains the nature of Deadpool’s symptoms that he has seen as well as Deadpool’s explanation of him being cursed. There is no doubt in Peter’s mind that Deadpool is keeping the worst of it a secret though.
“Coughing up flower petals?” Dr. Strange ponders, he turns to the table and opens a book that Peter is certain wasn't there a moment before. The book is slammed closed and pushed to the side as another slides into its place. He flips through that one before making an annoyed sound and pushing that one to the side as well.
Peter can tell when he finds what he was looking for in the third book as a smug look crosses the man's face.
“Hanahaki disease.”
“Hana-whata?” Peter repeats back, dumbly.
“Hanahaki disease is, to put it simply, the manifestation of unrequited love.”
Peter can't help the snort he lets loose. “Yeah, that can not be it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“It's Deadpool, he doesn’t fall in love.”
“Ah,” Dr. Strange frowns. “It does seem an unlikely prognosis for the man.”
“Yeah, so maybe keep looking in those books of yours?” Peter waves a hand towards the book shelf.
“He was coughing the petals up though?”
“You growing hard of hearing? Yes, that’s what I said.”
“Look,” Dr. Strange gesture to a pair of armchairs before sitting down in one. “Wade is a complicated guy, it’s easy to forget that he’s just a person at the end of the day. Someone capable of love. Someone who might feel unworthy of being loved back?”
Peter sinks down into the chair across from Dr. Strange, feeling guilty over dismissing Deadpool being capable of love. It just doesn’t seem like a real possibility.
“So what’s the cure?” Peter asks.
“The feelings he feels must be returned or it’s death. What that means for a man who can not die, that is another matter. I doubt reciprocation of feelings is an option for him but if you pull the flowers out by the roots, which would have to be done surgically, he can be saved.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Getting up out of the chair, Dr. Strange gesture to the door to signal that their meeting has come to an end. “I recommend having him come see me. I can remove the flowers easily.”
“Guess that's my cue to leave.” Peter gets up out of the chair and finds himself at the front door without having taken a step. The doors open and Peter finds himself whisked out of the building. It takes five minutes for Peter to move from the spot, unsure of how to proceed. The possibility of Deadpool loving someone so deeply that it's killing him seems ridiculous. Deadpool can't decide on a favorite anything, he changes his mind constantly.
Still, Peter sets out to find the man so that he can confront him on the matter. It turns out though when Deadpool doesn't want to be found you don't. It doesn't matter who he asks, no one sees or hears from the man for months. Peter can't help the feeling that he’s too late, already failed and now Deadpool is gone. Which seems impossible given the Mercs penchant for coming back from the dead.
The thought of Deadpool actually staying dead this time has Peter feeling weirdly numb. Like he lost his chance. Chance at saving the man?
He manages to find Deadpool only because Logan catches his scent out in New Jersey of all places. Logan tracks him down to an older apartment building and gives Peter the address. Peter leaves right away.
It takes Peter over two hours to get there. When he finally arrives he is out of breath, not something that happens to him often but he didn’t want to risk losing this chance. Logan is long gone, having his own matters to attend to. Peter hopes Deadpool is still inside the building. Even if Peter thought Deadpool would actually let him in, there is no way to tell which is Deadpool's apartment. So Peter does something he is not proud of and crawls around the side of the building looking in every window for the man.
There are some things he wishes he could unsee as he peers into the windows. Thankfully it’s dark out and no one sees him back. He finally finds Deadpool on the fourth floor in the corner apartment. The man is sprawled out on his couch watching tv. Peter taps on the window and can't hold back a laugh when Deadpool stumbles off the couch.
The laughter fades though as Deadpool sluggishly gets up and moves over to the window. Every step seems to bring Deadpool pain and by the time he reaches the window to unlock it his hands are shaking.
Peter climbs in through the window, all quips dying on his tongue. This weak Deadpool is not something Peter knows how to deal with.
“Sorry for the mess, wasn't expecting visitors,” Deadpool waves at the stack of takeaway containers littering the coffee table as he weakly chuckles. There are pizza boxes stacked in the corner and beer cans scattered everywhere. The smell is not something to be desired.
Slowly following Deadpool over to the couch, Peter sinks down into the plush brown monstrosity. It practically swallows him with how soft it is.
“So my little Spider, what brings you to my humble abode?”
“I was worried about you, Deadpool.”
“You can… I told you it's Wade, right?” He looks unsure as he says it though.
“Yeah,” Peter hesitates before continuing. “You've mentioned that a few times.”
“Oh, good.” Relief fills Deadpool's face. “You just never use my name so I thought… and well I'm not even in the suit right now, so I just thought. ‘Cause it’s weird when I’m in my civies and...”
The room feels to hot, Peter wishes he hadn't closed the window behind him. “I just wanted to keep things professional.”
“Not working right now though. So, will you call me Wade?”
Peter takes in the way Deadpool is playing with the bottom of his hoodie. It looks well worn, the ends fraying and the color dulled. The hood is pulled up, barely any of his face is visible but Peter can make out the scars clearly on what he can see. His feet are bare, poking out from a pair of sweats. The man looks comfy and lazy in a way Peter has never been privileged to see before now. He doesn't look like a killer, doesn't look like Deadpool.
“Yeah,” Peter whispers. “I can call you Wade.”
The smile that breaks out across Wade's face brightens his whole demeanor. Peter has to look away quickly.
“So, hanahaki?”
The smile drops from Wade's face. “Who told you that word?”
“Is that what it is then?”
“Why do you even care?” Wade snarls out.
Anger boils under Peter's skin. “Of course I care!”
“Like fucking hell you do!” Deadpool hollers back, slamming his fist into the couch. “I'm just another project to you. You don't give a shit about me. You'll never see me as anything more than a feral dog to house train.”
“That's not true,” Peter denies but with no real conviction, uncertain if there is not some truth to what is being said. “I want to help Deadpool.”
“See, already back to Deadpool.”
“Wade,” Peter leans across the couch and places a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. Wade flinches at the contact but eases into the touch when Peter presses forward. “Let me help.”
Wade keeps his focus on where Peter has his hand, a look of disbelief on his face. “There is no way to help me.”
“We have to pull them out by the roots.”
Peter does not expect the laugh he gets from Wade, his whole body shaking with it. The laughter turns to coughing, Wade doubling over himself. A fistful of petals spew from his mouth, scattering across the floor.
“Fuck!” Peter exclaims, he moves across the couch so he can pat Wade on the back. A whole flower is coughed up, landing is Wade's palm. It’s followed by another and another.
Taking a shaky breath, Wade’s voice is hoarse when he speaks, “Do you know what kind of flower this is?” He holds the flower out for Peter to inspect.
The flower has long red petals and even longer stamens that curve upward and out. It looks delicate. Peter is certain he has never seen any flower like it before, even though he isn’t a flowers sort of guy he thinks he would remember one like that. It’s gorgeous.
“I have no idea,” he answers honestly.
“Shame, it's my favorite. Reminds me of someone special.”
“The person you love?” Peter doesn't understand why it hurts to ask that.
There is a sad smile on Wade's lips as he quietly says, “Yeah. They make me want to be a better person. I could have torn the flowers from my body at any point but with them goes the love I feel.”
“I've seen you stab a man over a chimichanga only to get bored halfway through eating it and throw it away!” Peter’s not sure why he’s yelling. “Just tear the damn things out Deadpool!”
Wade turns and looks straight into the lens of Peter’s suit. “No.”
It takes everything in Peter not to turn away from Wade’s gaze, he’s not sure he’s ever really looked at Deadpool’s eyes before. Did he know before this moment that Wade had blue eyes? He’s seen him without the mask before certainly. There are red rings around his eyes, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. “Wade, please, no one could be this important.”
“They are.” The words are said softly as Wade delicately handles one of the flowers. “I’ve already made my choice.”
“What is going to happen to you then?”
“If I was anyone else I would be dead by now,” Wade says, a small smile playing on his lips. “The flowers have spread everywhere inside me, I think eventually they’ll just take over and I’ll become nothing else.” Wade looks down to the flower in his hands. “I can think of worse ways to go.”
“Wade, tell me who it is. I can bring them here. Maybe if you tell them…” Peter pleads.
“And what? They magically fall in love with me? Hopelessly, endlessly, all consuming love?” Wade laughs and Peter wishes he wouldn’t. “No one could love me.”
“Fine.” Peter pushes himself up off the couch to stand before Wade, his jaw clenched in anger. “I’m taking you to see Dr. Strange.”
“Like hell you are.” Wade crosses his arms across his chest in refusal.
“I don’t think you have it in you to resist.” Peter grabs each of Wade’s wrists, prying open his arms as if to illustrate his point. It takes very little effort to do so and yet Wade winces as if Peter was using his full strength.
“Love it when you man-handle me, baby boy.” Wade groans out.
Instantly Peter drops Wade’s wrist and makes a disgusted sound as he steps back. “See, it’s shit like this. How can you love someone so much it is killing you and still say shit like that about someone else?”
The smirk that Wade had drops from his face, he folds in on himself. “Told you I’m a horrible person, so get lost and leave me be.” He tips over onto his side, stretching out across the couch and locks his eyes back onto the tv, some inane infomercial about making juice easier to pour playing.
“Nope,” Peter stubbornly plants himself in front of Deadpool, blocking his view of the tv. “Maybe you are alright with this but I am not.”
“It's not your choice.” Deadpool growls out. “Now move.”
“You have two choices, tell me who it is or come with me to see Dr. Strange.”
Groaning, Wade rolls off the couch and hits the ground with a thud. It takes Peter a moment to notice Wade reaching under the couch but by the time he clues in there is a gun pointed right at him.
“Like always, I choose option fuck the hell off.”
“Okay,” Peter says slowly. “Go for it.” Peter is maybe ninety percent sure Deadpool won't shoot him. At least eighty percent sure. The gun doesn't waver and Peter can feel the sweat rolling down the back of his neck as the percent he is certain grows lower.
“Shit, fuck, horse balls.” Wade curses out as he drops the gun to the floor. “Fine but you have to carry me.”
Peter lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah, I can do that. Get up so you can get on my back.”
“What?” Deadpool sits up quickly, wincing as he does. “You're supposed to carry me bridal style.”
Peter scoffs at the idea. “How am I going to web sling carrying you like that?”
“What?” Wade’s eyes go wide. “You didn't drive here in your spider-buggy? How about the spider-cycle?”
Peter scoffs, “I have none of those things, I ride the subway like every other poor slob.”
“Right,” Wade tilts his head to the side. “I'm getting us a taxi then.”
“Wade I can't afford a taxi.”
“Baby boy I can buy you anything you want, so just let me take care of it.” Wade's grin is lecherous.
Peter ends up carrying Wade down to the street bridal style after much whining from someone much to large to be throwing a hissy fit. Frankly, it was just downright embarrassing which is how he has the behemoth of a man cradled in his arms with his face pressed into the side of Peter's neck. It doesn’t bother Peter in the slightest, it’s not like he practically tosses Deadpool in the taxi when it pulls up and if he did the man can take it, he’s a big boy.
The ride is long and silent except for the music the driver has playing softly in the front. Whatever he is playing is not anything like Peter has heard before. It’s a relief when they finally come to a stop in front of Dr. Strange’s building. The stack of bills Wade pulls from his pocket is ridiculous in size, he peels off a few and tosses them into the front for the driver before getting out without even bothering to count them.
Peter makes his way over to Wade who stands unmoving in front of the building. There is a strange emotion that Peter can’t place on Wade’s face as he stares down the front door.
“Come on, let’s go inside.” Peter prompts as he gently tugs on Wade’s arm.
“Spidey,” Wade’s voice sounds ready to break into a sob. “Promise me you won’t let him take them.”
“Come on,” Peter tries again, tugging again at the man’s arm. “Let’s go inside.”
“Promise me.” Wade locks his eyes with Peter’s waiting for a response.
The request sounds so sincere. “I promise, but you have to hear him out, alright?”
“Alright,” Wade says with a sad smile and this time when Peter tugs on his arm he goes along willingly.
This time around it takes all of four minutes for Dr. Strange to make an appearance. A vast improvement over the last time.
“Wonderful, you finally made it,” Dr. Strange says as he leads them through an ornate door. It's really a gorgeous door, one you wouldn't forget easily and yet Peter does not recall seeing it ever before. He really hates the Sanctum Sanctorum.
There is not much to the room they enter, the only prominent feature being a long table in the middle that seems a mix between an examination table and a sacrificial altar. Neither bode well for Wade.
“Uh, Doc?” Wade says nervously. “Think there's been some mixed signals, my Grindr profile definitely says I don't put out on the first date.” He takes a step back as if to bolt from the room. Peter makes sure to keep a tight hold on his arm just in case.
“Relax, I merely want to observe. You have no idea how rare Hanahaki disease is.”
“I think I know exactly how rare it is, last reported case was 1847 in Jinhae, South Korea. There are only six cases have ever been documented, it's considered nothing more than a story.” Wade recites the knowledge easily.
Peter doesn't think he should be as impressed over the small display of knowledge, he knows Deadpool is smart. It's just that it's not often he gets to see Wade use his brain for something other senseless violence.
“The extent of which those cases were documented is… lacking to put it mildly. So if you would, please?” Dr. Strange extends a hand out towards the table.
Peter gives Wade's arm a gentle tug to get his attention. “We came all this way, Wade please.”
Guilt washes over Peter with the sad smile Wade gives him before walking over to the table and hopping up onto it. Wade lays down across the table, stretching out as he does and making his back crack audibly.
“Do your worst,” Wade sing songs.
Getting right to work, Dr. Strange does a series of hand movements and starts casting spells along Wade's torso.
“This is remarkable, it should be contained to your lungs but I wonder…” Dr. Strange is in awe, with another wave of his hand Wade's chest is illuminated with the light branching out like vines through his body.
Curious, Peter leans in closer to observe.
“It’s everywhere. How is that possible? When did you first experience any symptoms?” Dr. Strange asks.
Wade looks uncomfortable at the question. He doesn't meet anyone's eyes as he quietly answers, “It's been two years now.”
Whatever spell Dr. Strange is casting flickers as his focus falters, jaw dropping in disbelief. “Usually the host dies within the first six months. How are you handling breathing?”
“Sometimes I don't,” Wade admits. He runs his fingers along his throat and down his chest, “If it gets bad enough I open myself up to remove some of them. I don't touch the roots though.”
“Open yourself up? What the hell, Wade!”
“Spider-man,” Dr. Strange says calmly. “He would not be breathing right now if he had not.”
It takes everything for Peter not to holler some choice words back at the sorcerer, choosing to grind his teeth instead.
“It’s really not a big deal Spidey, just a little surgery roleplay.” Deadpool winks, as if Peter could take the fact that he has been cutting into himself for months as a joke.
It’s for the best that the room they are in is so bare because if there was anything he could throw at the Merc’s stupid face he would be denting that forehead at the moment. As it is he has to watch that he doesn’t crack a tooth with the way he grinds his teeth down harder. His anger is replaced with guilt as Wade starts coughing, leaning over the side of the table so the petals fall to the floor. It’s only once a full flower makes its way out of his throat that he manages to stop.
“Fuck,” Wade wipes a petal that stuck to his lip off with the back of his hand, flicking it to the floor with the rest.
“Huh,” Dr. Strange bends down to pick up the flower off the floor. “A spider lily.”
It’s a blink and you’ll miss it sort of moment, in one moment Dr. Strange has the flower cupped in his hands and in the next Wade is crushing it between his. The flower is torn in half and Wade lets it fall back to the ground.
“It’s just a stupid flower,” Wade growls out.
Something clenches in Peter’s chest when Dr. Strange looks over at him with a calculating look. Like he can see ten steps ahead of Peter. It’s not like Peter isn’t known for reading too much into a situation. It’s sort of his specialty.
So how could he have missed this?
A spider lily? It’s too on the nose. If it’s what he thinks it means? Which, it can’t. Because. There are reasons, lots of reasons. Deadpool flirts with everyone, doesn’t he? Deadpool takes what he wants, he’s not shy about speaking his mind so certainly the topic of being in fucking love would have come up. Or did it?
The room spins.
In that moment he realizes all the small hesitant touches for what they were. Those moments where Wade couldn’t help himself, wanting to be close and yet always pulling himself back. All the jokes that were nothing but the truth disguised with a laugh. How Wade would work hard to live up to Peter’s expectations. Follow Peter’s rules. Promise Peter everything. Die before being an inconvenience.
Wade had asked him to dinner. Wade had asked him to hang out. To see a movie. For a walk. Anywhere just so long as they could spend just a shred of time together. Which Peter was always to busy for, so seriously stop asking already. Wade asked about the girls Peter was dating. How school was going and would try to help whenever he caught Peter reading his text books on rooftops, at least until Peter told him that he ruined his concentration. Then he never showed up when he was studying, except for that time when he dropped off some food and disappeared without saying a word. Which, was sort of sweet. Like.
Like taking care of someone you cared about.
Someone you loved.
Peter has spent so long thinking Deadpool didn’t have any real feelings that he has no idea what to do with this information.
Peter is pulled from his thoughts when Wade jumps up from the table with a shout.
It’s like a switch is flipped, the calm demeanor Wade had been sporting up until now fades into one of rage as he turns on Dr. Strange. Peter is reminded why he has never let himself think of the man as anything other than Deadpool, to forget that can mean death or in the case of Dr. Strange a knife to the throat. Peter is not even sure where Wade pulled it from.
“You keep your mouth shut.” Wade presses the knife further into the Doctor’s throat as he practically spits the words out.
It would probably be a good idea to calm Deadpool down if Peter expects to get any other favors from the only sorcerer who’s willing to talk to him. So as gently as he can Peter steps forward so he can slip his fingers around Wade’s wrist and tugs so the knife pulls away from Dr. Strange’s throat.
“Come on,” Peter coos softly. “I’m not cleaning up that mess.”
“Please don’t tell him,” Wade utters one last time as he lets himself be pulled away and the knife pried from his fingers.
He doesn’t even fight it when Wade slips out of his grip and without a word walks out the door.
“Don’t tell me what?” Peter asks.
That calculating look is back, it sends a shiver down Peter’s spin. “He seems to think, that knowing that it’s you, that you’ll advocate that we should perform the surgery to have the roots removed. Which he will certainly heal from but as he has mentioned he does not want. If we leave this he will die eventually, it will be very slow and extremely painful.”
“He doesn’t want me knowing that?”
“Of course, you tend to make rash decisions when someones life is on the line.” There is a knowing twinkle in the man’s eye that makes Peter feel irrationally angry.
“I’m all about well thought out decisions.” Peter crosses his arms but changes his mind instantly feeling too defensive, his arms hang awkwardly at his sides.
“Yes,” Dr. Strange smugly states. “I can see that. So tell me then, what is your well thought out idea for how to deal with Wade?”
When Peter goes to respond nothing comes out, his mind goes blank. What will he do?
“Do you think,” Dr.Strange whispers out as he leans his close, “that you can learn to love someone like him?”
“What?” Peter flinches back as if burned.
“You need to tell him that he is living a dream, that he needs to let go of you.”
Peter nods along like he agrees but his thoughts get caught on the idea of loving Wade back. Is that something he can do? Learn to do? It tugs at something inside him he thought didn’t exist.
Still he makes up his mind to go find the man, not that he has to go far to find him because Wade never made it out the front door. There are petals surrounding the area he collapsed. There are two of his fingers down his own throat as he tries desperately to pull them out. It’s an awful sight but the sound of Wade gagging is almost worse. All Peter knows is that it pains him to see the man hurting like that. Wade may shrug off injuries like they’re nothing to him but Peter has been around long enough to notice that he feels all of it. Just because he can heal doesn’t mean the pain doesn’t exist.
Before he knows it, he’s on the floor beside Wade, doing his best to help knock some petals lose with some well placed thumps to the man’s back. It must help because Wade coughs up two flowers and takes a giant weezing lungful of air. The thumps on the back turn to gentle pats and then to rubbing small circles as Wade slowly sits up. Peter snatches his hand back once he realizes what he was doing.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Wade’s voice is raspy as he still takes gulp fulls of air, his eyes are trained on the floor.
Peter looks to his palm as if it could explain it’s actions to him, why had he helped? That’s the burning question isn’t it, now that he knows how Wade feels about him, how does he feel about Wade? Can he walk away from this, knowing Wade is killing himself because of him?
“So,” Peter licks his lips nervously, hoping to sound more sure than he feels. “It was me?”
Wade makes an exasperated sounding groan, pushing himself further away. “Yeah, I know. I’m a disgusting piece of trash. Don’t worry your head Spidey, I’ll keep my lecherous thoughts and hands to myself.”
A sound like a dying cat bubbles up out of Peter’s throat, he didn’t even know he could make a sound like that before.
“I don’t think of you like that.”
A hollow sounding laugh falls from Wade’s lips, “you don’t have to pretend. I know you do.”
“I don’t,” the rebuttal sounds weak even to Peter.
The smile that Wade flashes is so weak, his eyes reflecting the true sadness he must be feeling. “It’s okay Spidey.”
“No, it’s not. I want things to be different.” Peter is surprised by how self assured he sounds when he says the words. Like they might be true, that he wants things to change. It’s not even a conscious thought when his fingers slip under the edge of his mask and he lifts it up over his head. His hair is always staticy when he first takes off the mask and it’s reflex to run a hand over it in an attempt to smooth it down.
“Wade, I…” he doesn't get any further than that as a large hand is slapped over his mouth to prevent him from saying anything further.
“Don't you dare!” Wade yells out, his eyes closed tightly. “I don't want your fucking pity! Put it back on. I can't, not like this, please. I fucking just.” There are tears welling up in the corners of Wade's eyes, ready to drop at any second. The yelling turns to the softest whisper as he utters one last time, “I don't want your pity.”
It's funny how accurate the concept of heartbreak is because that is exactly how Peter feels in that moment. He brushes the tears from Wade's cheek who instantly flinches back from the contact.
“I don't pity you,” Peter’s lips brush against Wade’s palm, his words muffled.
“You would never have taken off your mask otherwise. Don't lie.”
“Wade,” Peter inches forward to cup one of Wade's cheeks, this time he doesn't flinch away. “Please look at me.”
“Nope. No way. No comprende.”
“Wade, please,” Peter pleads, running his thumb along Wade's cheekbone is what he hopes is a soothing manner. “Are you really going to deny me something I want?”
Wade whines, “Spidey, why do you have to play dirty like that. You know I hate denying you stuff. Want to give you everything your pretty heart desires.”
It's almost too easy, perhaps Peter should feel guilty about that.
“Come on then, be a good boy and open those eyes.”
Peter does not miss the way Wade's breath hitches at the comment. Slowly, Wade opens his eyes one at a time. Wade looks at him like he's more than just some mousey looking grad student.
“You can't seriously be Spidey.” Wade mutters under his breath as if to himself.
Peter swallows past the lump in his throat. “Not as good as your imagination, huh? I'm kinda plain and boring.”
“How can you say that?” Wade has his hand up as if to touch Peter's face but stops himself. Peter can't help but notice the way his fingers shake. “You are beyond handsome. You're just so perfect, Spidey.”
The comment puts a small smile on Peter's face, no one has ever called him perfect before. Well, except for Wade and that was never in relation to his face. Peter hopes his face isn't turning too red.
“It’s, uh, Peter.”
Confusion crosses Wade's face. “Sorry what is?”
Peter's face heats as he manages to stammer out, “Uh, me, I mean. I am. A Peter. Peter Parker.” He has to resist the urge to sink through the floor and disappear.
It's almost comical the way Wade's mouth drops open. “So many things come to mind instantly. Petey. Peter pumpkin eater. Peter Pan. Pete. Petey pie.”
Laughing, Peter uses both hands to cover Wade's mouth to get him to stop. “It's Peter. I'm not responding to anything else.”
There is a disgustingly wet feeling on the palm of his hand that has Peter jerking it back.
“Did you just lick me?”
The only response Peter gets is a sly grin from Wade. Peter wipes his palm off on his thigh.
“You're disgusting,” Peter says flatly. He expects a scathing retort from Wade but instead Wade turns away and pushes himself up off the floor.
“I promise not to do anything weird with the knowledge of your face and name.”
Wade's already walking away by the time Peter gets up as well. He grabs at Wade's shoulder. “I didn't mean it like that.”
“Doesn't change the fact that it's true.”
“It's not. You're not. Wade, don't go yet.” Peter tugs at Wade's shoulder to get the other man to turn back around to face him.
When Wade turns back around his focus is solely on Peter.
“I am though. Not just on the outside. I'm disgusting right down to the bone.”
The way Wade moves can only be described as a predator stalking his prey. It's instinctive for Peter and to back away. It would have been good to be mindful of his surroundings because in seconds Wade has him backing into a wall. Fists slam against the wall on both sides of Peter, boxing him in.
“Do you know the kinds of thoughts I've had about you?”
Wade's breath is hot against Peter's cheek, he doesn't dare move.
“It would be so easy to catch you. You're fast so I would have to wait for you to come to me but I’m patient. You're strong but there are things I could make you take that would make you like putty in my hands. It would be so easy for me to push you down and just take. ”
They stay frozen like that, Wade's words hanging between them. It's terrifying to hear such a thing if only because Peter knows if Wade ever really wanted he could. So, why didn't he?
“Is that something you want? Or do you think not even your wildest fantasies I could want you back? That I could give that to you freely? So the only way you think you can have me is if by force.”
By the look on Wade's face he had not. He pushes away from the wall but Peter grips the front of his shirt to draw him back in. Wade's eyes dart along Peter's face as if he can't seem to get a read on him.
“How could someone like you ever?” There is so much pain in the way Wade says those words. Peter wonders if it was those words that made the love Wade feels for him turn on the man itself. If it was that thought that was killing Wade.
The scars that cover Wade's skin are so numerous that there isn't room for anything else, Peter wonders how he missed the ones that Wade carries inside himself.
It seems odd how insistent he was that Wade toss aside the love and have the flowers removed but now knowing that love is for him? Peter wants him to keep it. Wants to know what that love feels like.
That he wants to give Wade a chance.
Moving as slowly as he can manage, Peter leans in towards Wade and tilts his head slightly. Their lips press together in a chaste kiss. Peter pulls back to gauge the response. He might have broke Wade because he stares at Peter in shock. Which wasn't the response Peter was going for so he tries again, this time letting the kiss linger. He gives a small nibble to Wade's bottom lip before pulling away. Wade remains offline.
For the third try, Peter cups the back of Wade's neck and pulls him back into the kiss. Not wasting any time, Peter licks along the seam of Wade's lips before biting softly. It's when he presses himself firmly against Wade's front that he finally gets a response; he's shoved firmly away.
“What?”
“What are you doing? I told you, I don't want your pity.” Wade states calmer than he appears. He looks ready to break and crumble.
“It's not.” Peter says earnestly, trying to pull Wade back. “I want this.”
A broken sounding sob bubbles up out of Wade, Peter has to grip the man around his middle to keep him from collapsing onto the floor.
“I thought you were just an asshole, messing with me. That you wanted everyone like that.” Peter has to tighten his grip as Wade sags forwards in his arms. “I want to know what it is to be loved by you.”
Wade gives a sharp laugh. “I'll always be an asshole. I’ll always look like this.”
“I’m kind of an asshole too.” Peter smiles, rubbing at the back of Wade’s neck. He leans in brushing his lips along Wade’s ear lobe as he whispers, “and I like the way you look.”
A shiver runs down Wade’s body. “You really kissed me because you wanted to?”
“Definitely.”
Wade’s gaze searches Peter’s face, as if he can find the truth of Peter’s words written somewhere along it. Whatever he finds has him asking, “Can I kiss you back now?”
Peter can count on one hand the number of times someone bothered to ask if they were allowed to kiss him. It’s just the one. It’s sort of a heady feeling, having someone check. That there can be no pretending that it was something you didn’t want.
“I really think you should.”
The words have barely left Peter’s mouth before he’s being shoved back into the wall, Wade’s hands running down his sides to grip at Peter’s hips. Peter’s earlier kiss is nothing like the one Wade gives him, this kiss is demanding and persistent. The hot slide of Wade’s tongue along his own has Peter gasping into the kiss.
“I can’t believe,” Wade mumbles out as he moves his mouth in a hot slide down along Peter’s jaw, teeth scraping along before placing a bruising kiss at the corner of his jaw. Wade palms along Peter’s throat, up along his adam's apple before tilting Peter’s chin up so he has more access to mouth along Peter’s throat in such a way that has him panting. Fingers run along Peter’s bottom lip before slipping one to tease the tip of his tongue. Wade’s other hand slips around to cup Peter’s ass, kneading it with his fingers.
It’s a little overwhelming, how much Peter likes it. The moment it ruined however by the sound of someone very loudly clearing their throat, which has them both jumping away from each other. They sheepishly look over to find a disapproving Dr. Strange pointing them towards the exit.
“Please, not in here.” Dr. Strange tells them with a knowing look.
With no shame, Wade adjusts himself in plain view before giving a little wave goodbye and turning towards the door. Peter is a little more discreet in his action, he mumbles out a quick goodbye as he slips his mask over his beet red face before following Wade out the door.
Outside, the early light of the sun filters in through the buildings gently lighting the street. There is hardly anyone around and it feels oddly calm out. Wade seems pensive as he stares out at the road.
“I just,” Wade pauses, seeming to struggle over what to say. “I don’t know what to do. What to think. What do you want to happen now?”
It’s such a sad thing to be asked because Peter can’t help but hear the way Wade says the question like he expects still after such a kiss that Peter is going to tell him to get lost.
“I was thinking we could try something other than burritos for our date tonight?”
“Our what?”
“You’re taking me out to dinner.” Peter tries to act more confident than he feels. It’s odd to be worried about Wade rejecting him. Even after everything.
The way Wade licks his lips at the suggestion alieves Peter of his worries while also giving way to some dangerous thoughts.
“I’m taking you to dinner.”
“At seven.”
“And after that?”
The hot feeling of Wade mouthing along his neck comes to mind, Peter is thankful his mask hides the way he blushes.
“That’s a bit presumptuous,” Peter huffs out.
Wade just laughs, it’s wonderfully carefree sounding. “I was thinking like, ah, forget it.”
“You want to know if you should be hopeful. I think,” Peter mulls over his choice of words, knowing the importance of what he needs to convey. “I think you make me laugh, that you genuinely are a good person at your core who has had to make some awful decisions in his life. You care about so much. So much.”
Wade makes a wounded sounding noise, he turns away like he can’t bear to face what Peter is telling him.
“Wade, I don’t think I’ve ever properly looked at you. That I’ve never let myself because I thought you would always get bored of being good. Bored of me and that you would leave. So you tell me, are you going to stick around to see what this can become?” Peter takes a large breath to steady his nerves. “Because I really think I could fall for you.”
“I’ll never leave, I promise.” Wade says so earnestly that Peter can’t help but believe him. There is a bit of hesitation before Wade closes the distance between them but stops just before Peter like he can’t seem to bring himself to bridge the last little bit of space between them.
Peter doesn’t have the same hesitation, he pushes up the bottom of his mask and crashes their lips together. It’s like Wade can’t decide what part of Peter he wants to touch, his hands roam along every inch he can as he pulls their bodies flush together. Like a man starved, the kisses turn insistent and demanding. It’s only with great reluctance that Peter pulls back from Wade, certain that if it continues they’ll end up in a situation not fit for a public space.
“Okay, so seven tonight. Street clothes, no costumes. Date.” Peter breathlessly gets out, taking in the way Wade hungrily watches his lips move. “We can discuss what to do after food tonight.”
The smile that Wade gives has Peter certain that Wade already has lots of ideas.