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It wasn't every day that Wade came across a drunk-off-his-ass Spider-man.
"Hey, Spidey!" He waved cheerfully upon seeing who he liked to call his partner, takeout in hand and not yet realizing how hammered the other was. "How's it hanging?" Wade snickered at his own pun.
Spider-man sauntered towards him, swinging his arms heavily at his sides. Wade raised an eyebrow at how his hips swung and dipped from each step. Spidey was light, agile and silent on his feet, almost as if he were afraid of getting captured; he'd never prowl the streets like that on a normal day.
"Hey," he drawled, elongating the word in an almost...flirty manner. The eyebrow raised even higher. Spidey never flirted with him. "What's up, Deadpool? Wanna partner up and fight some crime?" The man stumbled a bit, throwing out a hand to grab onto Wade's shoulder for support.
"Uh, are you okay? I mean, not that I mind you touching me or anything, but you seem really out of it."
"'M fine, you silly," Spider-man slurred in response, wrapping his other arm around Wade's neck and lacing his fingers together, pulling him down and pressing his forehead to Wade's.
"Wow, is that alcohol I smell on your breath?" Wade laughed uncomfortably and put his hands on Spider-man's biceps as a gentle warning. It was no secret that he harbored a massive crush on the masked vigilante; even the Avengers had commented on it once or twice, much to Spidey's chagrin. On any other occasion, Wade would have cried of happiness if Spidey even gave him a hug. But this...this felt wrong. Really wrong. His boxes agreed, too.
"I only had a couple of drinks," Spider-man purred, stroking a thumb against the nape of Wade's neck.
"Okay, um, I think it's time we get you home." Wade removed the arms from around his neck and straightened, ignoring Spider-man's whines of protest. "Can you walk?"
"Of course I can." Spider-man took one step forward and his leg immediately buckled beneath him.
Wade rolled his eyes. "Christ. Okay, I guess I'll have to carry you then," he muttered as he picked Spider-man up bridal style. He tried to ignore the way his heart started pounding as the vigilante began nuzzling into the warmth of the crook of his neck. So, this situation was great. He had no idea where Spidey lived, and he didn't want to intrude into his personal life. He knew how important secrecy was to Spidey. But there was also the problem of having a very drunk and very vulnerable Spider-man in his arms. Wade suppressed a shiver as Spider-man exhaled softly against his neck.
"Um, okay! So, seeing as I haven't got a clue where you live, I'm just going to take you to my house to sober up! Wouldn't want you falling off any buildings or anything, ya know?"
"You know," Spider-man giggled, making Wade groan internally as he began the short trek home. God, he wanted the old Spidey back. "I've never thanked you for all of those Taco Saturdays, or whatever the fuck they're called."
"No problem, baby boy, they were my pleasure."
Spider-man giggled again. "Heh, that's what she said."
"That doesn't really work, Spidey, but you do you." This was admittedly cute, but Wade was seriously beginning to worry about how much alcohol Spider-man had actually had.
"You know, you're kinda hot." Spider-man squinted up at Wade's face. Wade felt his heart stop, the flesh on his back and arms raising with goosebumps. Okay, good, now Wade was having auditory hallucinations.
"I'm sure you get that a lot, but damn," Spidey continued, his words still slurred together, "those abs are to die for."
"Spidey, you're drunk." Wade opted for a no-nonsense tone. Maybe that would help speed the sobering process up.
"That's not my name," the other chided. "It's Peter to you."
Wade gaped at the man. "Did you just tell me your secret identity?!"
Spider-man-Peter? laughed. "Hell yeah, I did!"
By the time Wade kicked open the door to his apartment, Spidey had already tried to take off his leggings and his mask, being stopped both times by Wade despite the loud protesting of his boxes.
"Alright," Wade muttered, lowering Peter onto his couch and handing him a bottle of water. "Drink that."
"Hey Deadpool?" Peter asked, tugging Wade down onto the couch beside him.
"What up?"
Peter turned the bottle of water over in his hands, running his fingernails against the grooves in the plastic. "Have you ever lost someone you've loved?"
"Well, I-uh," Wade looked Peter over cautiously, concerned about the drastic turn their conversation had taken. "I've never really had any friends. And I've certainly never been friends with someone long enough to love them. And if you've ever saw my face, then you'd know I've never had a lover," he finished awkwardly, trying to laugh it off.
Peter was silent for a moment, turning the water bottle over and over in his hands. "When I became Spider-man, my uncle died in front of me. And then, when I was too busy trying to play hero, my girlfriend died." He slammed the water onto the coffee table in front of him, burying his face in his hands. "And I was just thinking, like, doesn't that make it my fault? I have all this weird ability, and I didn't do anything to save them. I just...let them die. I watched them die."
"Oh, no, Petey, it wasn't your fault at all," Wade whispered, shifting closer to him and wanting to provide comfort in any way possible. "Sometimes shit like that happens, and it happens to people who least deserve it, and-holy shit, baby boy, are you crying?!"
Peter seemed lost in his own world, hands pressed at the sides of his head and muffled sobs coming from underneath the mask. Wade had no idea what to do or what was even happening, really, so he went with his gut instinct and pulled Peter into his chest, hugging him tightly and shushing him.
"It's alright, Petey," he repeated in a mantra, rubbing a hand in circles on Peter's heaving back and tucking his head under his chin. "It wasn't your fault, okay? Just calm down."
They sat in silence for a while, curled around each other while Peter occasionally hiccupped in ways that made Wade's heart hurt. Wade kept rubbing circles on Peter's back, while Peter tried his best to stifle the noises he was making.
"Sorry," Peter murmured, reaching a hand up his mask to wipe at his tears.
"You don't have anything to apologize for," Wade replied quietly, not wanting to break the mood. "Is this...why you were drinking?"
"Yeah." He tugged the mask up above his nose, taking deep breaths through his nose.
"So I guess you're finally sobering up, huh?"
"More or less, I guess. I can still feel it in my system."
"Man, why'd you go as Spider-man though? Horrible plan, in my opinion."
"I figured that if I went all dressed up they wouldn't card me for being underage," he replied bluntly, twisting the cap of the water bottle open and taking a swig.
"You're underage?" Wade asked, his heart sinking a bit. Great, so was his crush jailbait now?
"Only by a year," Peter scoffed.
"Oh, good. I mean-nevermind."
Peter gave him a weird look before putting the bottle down, his fingers dancing at the edge of his mask. "Can you keep a secret?"
Wade laughed. "Usually, no. But I'd do it for you, baby boy," he winked suggestively, glad that they were returning to their usual banter. He didn't know how to deal with heavy shit, and he certainly didn't know how to deal with hot superheroes crying into his shoulder.
Peter narrowed his eyes, but then began tugging off his mask entirely. Wade widened his eyes and grabbed Peter's arm, stilling him.
"Are you sure?" he asked seriously. "I mean, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable doing it in front of-in front of me, of all people."
Peter shrugged nonchalantly, but Wade could see his fingers trembling. "You know my name, so you might as well be able to put a face to it. Besides, I've trusted you with my life before. I think I can handle this...probably."
Wade nodded and let go of his arm, not knowing whether he should watch Peter pull the mask off or whether he should avert his eyes. He settled on focusing to a point slightly left of Peter's nose.
"You can look if you want."
Wade's glance flicked over to him, and his heart immediately began hammering.
"Uh, this might be the wrong time to say this, but you're really pretty. Like, Andrew Garfield pretty. I had pretty high expectations already, but you've hella exceeded them. Like, damn. Holy shit."
Peter laughed a bit, his mask dangling from his relaxed fingertips. "So, are you gonna introduce yourself or what?"
Wade was still busy staring at Peter's gorgeous brown eyes. "Uh, yeah, I'm eye-Wade. I'm Wade. Hi. Nice to meet you." He stuck a hand out awkwardly and Peter shook it, rolling his eyes. "Um, you want something to eat? I have takeout, but it's probably cold by now."
"I'm fine. But, uh, this is kind of a really weird request to make, but can I crash here for the night? I'm still kind of drunk, and I don't think it's a good idea for me to try to find my way home at this hour."
"What-yeah! Yeah, of course! I haven't had anyone over in, like, ever, so I'll show you to my room and you can take my bed! Don't worry about the sheets, I just washed them! Here, I'll show you where it is!" Wade grabbed Peter's hand and led him to his bedroom, which felt awfully intimate, but hey, Wade wasn't complaining, and neither was Peter.
Peter sat down on the bed. "Thanks. For all of this."
"Okie dokie, if you need something, just yell! I'm a light sleeper and the walls are like paper, so I'll be right at your service!"
"Wait," Peter interjected, his voice cracking. "Are you gonna leave me?"
Wade waggled his eyebrows at Peter. "You sayin' you wanna sleep with me, baby boy? Is that the alcohol talking?"
"Well I have...I get..." Peter sighed, frustrated. "Nightmares, you know?"
Wade softened at Peter's embarrassed expression. "Yeah. I get you. But, uh, if you really want me to stay, then where am I gonna sleep?"
"...the bed?" Peter blushed and it took all Wade had not to gush right then and there.
"I'm going to ask you once again, is this Petey or the alcohol?"
Peter glared. Wade thought he looked hot when he glared. "It's me, idiot."
There was no chance in hell that Wade was giving up a chance to sleep with his favorite and conveniently hyper-attractive superhero, so he just nodded gleefully and leapt into the other side of the bed.
"Aren't you going to take your mask off?"
Wade stiffened at that. "Believe me, baby boy, you won't like what's under this mask."
"Wade, you'll suffocate. Take the damn mask off."
Wade fell silent, contemplating whether or not to take it off, but he eventually grabbed the tip of the mask and pulled it off in one quick motion. He snuck a glance at Peter, terrified that his expression would be one of disgust or fear, but all he saw was...concern.
Peter crawled closer to Wade. "Oh my god, does it hurt?"
"All the time," Wade whispered.
Peter stroked his fingertips lightly across a scarred cheek, looking so sincerely worried that it made Wade's chest clench up. "I'm sorry."
"Nothing you have to apologize for," he replied lightly. "Turn off the lights and get your sweet ass into my bed, if you will."
Peter tsked, but complied.
And that was how Wade Wilson found himself sharing a bed with his infatuation of years. He snuck closer to Peter under the covers, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Peter's back.
"Wade?" Peter said in a small voice, muffled by the covers.
"Hm?"
"...I think I like you."
"Now that’s the alcohol talking, Petey. Go to sleep."
Peter turned around and pressed a quick kiss to Wade's lips. Everything in Wade's mind screeched to a halt.
"Goodnight." Peter said gruffly. "Also, your bed smells like tacos. Next time, at least try to make it less strong."
"Next time?"
"Yes, that's what I said, Wade."
"...Is this a dream?"
Peter yawned. "When we wake up, you'll be able to tell."
Wade felt Peter shift one of his legs in between his, and an uncontrollable smile spread over his face.
"You're perfect," he breathed, but Peter had already fallen asleep. Wade didn't mind, though. If this wasn't a dream, then he'd have every morning from now on to tell Peter just how perfect he was.