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The takeout is on the table, already cold. The sufganiyot he made for dessert are cold too. The playlist is paused. And Peter Parker is crying.
Wade wasn’t here. Wade, who promised to try his best to be there, who wanted to celebrate with Peter for the first time. Wade’s gift on the table, by the takeout. Peter had worked so damn hard to make sure everything would go right. And Wade has forgotten.
Maybe he’s hurt somewhere. Maybe he is drunk again. Maybe he has abandoned Peter for good, since he has seen that Peter isn’t as good- No.
Breathe, Parker. Your boyfriend is late. That is ok. He is forgetful, there’s nothing wrong.
Except… When it came to important dates. Birthdays? Dates? Monthversaries? You got it. Wade tried his best to make every important date the best he could for Peter, going above and beyond. Sure, he didn’t bother cleaning the blood stains from the couch, but you can bet your sweet ass that on fourteenth of every month that Peter wakes up to breakfast in bed. And their first Hanukkah together is definitely important. At least, to Peter.
Hours pass. He doesn’t eat the dinner he had set on the table. It just wouldn’t feel right. He ends up falling asleep on the couch, his face puffy, the nice shirt he’s using all wrinkly, the yarmulke slipping off his head, the TV playing that one stupidly antisemitic show that’s Peter’s guilty pleasure. He isn’t gonna sleep well either way - why not make it worse for when he’s awake?
Instead, he’s rudely awoken by a bang in the door. He gets up quickly, but he knows that the invader isn’t a burglar or a murderer. In fact, he can in fact know exactly who it is. And he is ready to raise hell.
“What the fuck, Wade?”, says Parker, going straight to open the door. He expects Wade to be drunk, high, or worse. Instead, what greets him is a bloody Wade holding a box and a bag. He stumbles inside, pecks Peter in cheek and puts the bag in the table, still holding the box.
“So, I may be in trouble, but listen. There’s a perfectly good explanation.”
“You better start talking then, sugar, or you will be sleeping in the fire escape. Again.” Peter crosses his arms. Wade smiles at him, in hopes that it’ll make Peter cave. It doesn’t work.
The box in Wade’s arms moves.
“So, I know that we are supposed to get eight gifts, right? So I had planned to escalate it slowly, and this is your eighth gift, but the thing is, uh. The person who I bought this from? Real sleazebag.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “This better not be a dog. If you got me a dog because of my crush on Daveed Diggs-”
“Our crush.”
“We can’t have dogs! You know the landlord doesn’t allow it!”
“G-ddammit, Peter, will you listen to me, you anxious cinnamon poptart?”
Parker sighs, and pretends to zip his mouth. Wade takes a deep breath.
“So, I am going home, early, because I wanna see you light the candles and you promised jelly donuts. By sheer coincidence, I walk past the dude’s store, and he’s yelling at his kid, this 10 year old boy, for playing with his sister’s dolls. And I’m like, ‘what the shit?’ so I stop by and try to diffuse the tension, but long story short, he stabbed me, so I beat him up and took your gift home. Along with my money. And I spent some time trying to heal, running from his thugs and getting us dinner, since I wanted to apologize for being late.”
He’s giving the puppy eyes. Peter is almost cracking, until a yelp comes out of the box.
“Wade, what’s on the box?”
Wade hands him the box. It’s not so heavy, and it has a few holes on top. Peter puts the box on the couch and opens it.
A very, very fluffy black hole stares at him. The black hole meows, and Peter’s resolve breaks. He grabs the kitten, crying.
“He is so tiny!”
“I know. His name is Lior.” Wade comes closer to hold Peter. He kisses the back of his boyfriend’s neck. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got you cookies. Did you even eat anything yet-”
“No, dumbass, I was waiting for you. I love you so much.” Peter is sobbing, but he’s smiling. A cat, of course, a black cat. A cat is allowed by the landlord, plus it’s the perfect companion for Peter, as it’s a pet he always wanted to have. Hell, he even told Wade as much.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven? Do I get to reheat the takeout, cuddle my boyfriend and our kitten and watch a shitty show?”
Peter laughs, and throws himself on the couch holding Lior close. Lior yawns and falls asleep on Peter’s lap.
“Ok, but you get the food and bring it to me.”
“Damn bro, the goyphobia really jumped out, huh? Talk about forced reparations, forcing the gentile to work for you! There's a stereotype about Jewish people who do that, don't you know?” Wade keeps talking while working on it, becoming increasingly dramatic the harder Peter laughs, a twinkle in his eyes at Peter's puffy, happy face.
Wade is never forgetful when it comes to special dates, and his superpower isn’t even healing.
It’s stealing that smile from Peter, any day, any time.