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Peter wasn’t used to waking up at unexpected hours. In spite of his spidey sense, he bolted up at the sound of a large crash, eyes still closed but attempting to be alert. He knew he should get up but he found himself snuggling back into his blankets until another bang sounded. It was as though someone was trying to cook, very poorly, and making far too much noise. Peter groaned softly and shrugged off his covers; forgoing any attempt to be covert, he open the door and webbed some guy to his kitchen counter.
“Petey Poo! Good morning!” Deadpool preened and pulled out a large dagger slicing off the webs that attached his hands to the linoleum. “I was mak’in breakfast. Now that I think of it… I have no idea what I intended to make? Ha! guess maybe some eggs? What about some waffles. Got any frozen ones in here?” Deadpool made way for the fridge.
Peter put his head in his hands. “Wade, what are you doing here, I’m trying to sleep.” He collapsed on the couch; attempting to sleep through Deadpool’s intrusion.
Deadpool let out a sharp breath, “Pumpkin Pete, I got to tell you… where is your food? This place is barren!” Wade threw his hands up while scanning the contents of the fridge. “How am I supposed to make you world-class midnight breaky with Sriracha and a head of lettuce? This is a tried and true travesty. Woah, I had to get that out Baby Bear.” Wade put his hands on his knees like this admittance of truth knocked the breath out of him. He made a dash for the couch and Peter accommodated him by pretty much laying on top of him.
Peter put his head against Wade’s neck, “What are you doing here at 1 in the morning while I’m trying to sleep? The one time I try to make some healthy choices by actually sleeping at a biologically regulated hour and here you are.” Peter’s eyes stayed closed and Wade could feel his breath against his suit.
In a stuttered motion Wade pulled off his mask, “Sorry Peter, I just missed you. I come barging in, waking you up. I’m sorry… I wasn’t — you know — thinking…” He could feel Peter’s soft even breaths with his mask off, he wished he wasn’t in his suit at all.
Peter pushed himself up, “I know Wade.” He got off the couch and made for his bedroom. “Come to bed Wade.” He said while falling again. Wade was there in an instant after changing out of his suit. Peter, quite predictably, snuggled up to Wade again.
“Petey Pie—” Wade stated and was hushed by Peter.
“You don’t need an excuse to come spend the night Wade. I love you, but don’t wake me up like that again.” Peter was practically sleep talking, so Wade shut up and they both slept well for once in their fucking lives.