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The night went as any other for Peter. He had slipped into a schedule that never changed. He got home from patrol and went to take a shower. By the time he finished patrolling the city and stopping bad guys, he stank of sweat. It was always hard to peel off the spandex suit, which clung to his moist body.
He sighs as he strips and gets into the warm shower. His muscles relax the moment the water hits his freckled body. The water was hot, almost too hot. He had it cranked up all the way. Though, the hotter the water, the shorter the shower. The hot water would run out shortly, so he had to make it quick. He rinses his hair with shampoo and washed his body. He didn’t feel like bothering with face wash, he was too tired.
He steps out and dries off his body. When he walks out of the bathroom, the room is foggy from the steam that had built up. Peter sighs and breathes in the warm, clean scent that washed away the dirtiness of the night. The stress of being himself. He takes a few steps towards his small bed and sits down on the edge. The mattress sinks under the weight of his body.
He hasn’t made an effort to get dressed yet, so he sits on the bed with just the towel loosely wrapped around his hips. That reminds Peter that he should get new towels. These are the same ones he used when he lived with May. You could see the tears in them. But they still worked fine, why not use them?
The window is open because he forgot to shut it. He only came in through the window because he locked his keys in the house. The window wasn’t locked, but it wasn’t an issue. His apartment was on the seventh floor. Only he could make it in. Well, and Wade. There wasn’t anything worth stealing anyways, and Peter could take on anyone who came in.
The cold air beats against him as it blows. Peter shivers as his wet hair clings to the base of his neck. He also needs a haircut. He had let his hair grow long, nearly to his shoulders. He had a lot of things that were undone. He’s been so busy recently. He hasn’t had time to do everything. He says he’ll do it, but then he forgets until it’s brought up again.
When Peter stands, he lets the towel fall down to the floor so it’s just his bare body that he sees in the tall mirror hooked on the back of his door. The curtains were shut. Even if someone was watching, he didn’t have much of a show to give. He wasn’t anything special, he reminds himself as he examines his body in the mirror.
He’d lost a bit of weight these last few weeks. Peter wasn’t purposefully starving himself. He wasn’t purging because he’s not anorexic and not bulimic, he doesn’t have an eating disorder. He had a good relationship with food. But he’s just been forgetting to eat, not having the time or trying to spare his money. His fast metabolism didn’t help either. Gaining the weight would be hard.
Peter makes a point to eat high calorie food. He’ll forget that next week. But he’ll be reminded by the faint shadows of his ribs that were poking through. It wasn’t anything bad. He still had good pecs and abs and good muscles. Just less dense than they were before. And that’s okay. He’d warmed up to change. He used to hate it, but not anymore. Well, Peter didn’t like it, but he tried to be optimistic.
Peter turns on his heels, staring down at the bed in the corner of the room. It was warm and inviting. He wanted nothing more than to sleep and get a good nights rest for the first time in a while. Maybe he’d even make his bed the next morning. No, he didn’t have time. He had classes. Sometimes he regrets doing college, but it’s what May would’ve wanted.
He sits on the bed, thighs over his calves, kneeling almost. He feels the pressure on his sore joints. Still unclothed, Peter puts his head to the mattress. The sheets were cold and nice to his body, though it was already cold from the open window. He wraps his arms around his skull, cradling it. His left hand is woven into his damp hair, massaging his scalp. His body ached. He was so tired. Peter was sore everywhere.
Peter sat there for a good fifteen minutes, eyes heavy but still open. He was comfortable in this position. He could fall asleep right here. But Peter had stuff to do. He wanted to keep up his schedule the best he could, since half of it had already withered into nothingness. With a groan, he pulls himself out of the bed and to the dresser. After digging around, he finds a pair of blue boxers.
He slides those on and slips an oversized Garfield t-shirt over his bare chest. The shirt was Wade’s, he had left it here two weeks ago because he took a shower in Peter’s house. Peter washed it for him but Wade kept forgetting it here. It had become Peter’s sleep shirt. It was huge on him.
It was so cold, he should shut the window. He was so glad Wade wasn’t here right now (though he does wish he wasn’t alone), because not only did he have goosebumps, but also his nipples were visible through the fabric of the shirt. It was cold! Wade would never give him the end of it. It’s already happened once. Hell, Wade probably would make a tally for every time it happened from now on. Peter groans at the thought.
After dragging himself to the window to shut it, he shuffles sleepily to the bathroom. He’s still so tired, maybe he should’ve just fallen asleep naked.. no. Wade was gonna stop by. He didn’t want his bare ass out. He got up to get dressed, so why not just follow the rest of his routine. He needed to keep a schedule, it helped him function through the craziness of every day, knowing what to expect. He knew he said he was adjusting to change, but he needed this for himself.
He brushes his teeth. His mouth tasted like sugar that had been left to sit, thanks to his lunch that wasn’t really a good lunch. It felt really good to clean out his mouth and only taste mint. He digs around in the cabinet above the porcelain sink until he finds all the pill bottles he needed. Six pills in all; two melatonin, two for his anxiety (xanax), and two for body pain, just some midol. His back was really hurting today.
It hurt like an old man. He wanted to go to the chiropractor soon. Another thing in his imaginary list that he would never get to. The ache was from the swinging, he thought. He did this to himself. It used to be just in his shoulders, but now it’s a dull ache towards the end of his spin, right in the arch of his back.
Peter washes down all the pills with water from the sink in the cup he kept next on the counter. He makes his way back into his small bedroom, small like the rest of the apartment. He sat down at his desk, which he had found at a garage sale last year. Comics were stacked on it. Next to the lamp were a few action figures and collectibles. He reaches into the drawer of the desk, way in the back and pulls out his bible.
He does some readings, just a few pages. He’s been letting his relationship with Christ falter. He feels bad, he should build it again, but life goes on. He’s committing temptation. Wade is too tempting. He’s drawing him away from Christ.
Peter is drawn into the reading, tracing each line with his finger, eyebrows scrunched in focus. He didn’t notice the window open and shut again or the person who approached him slowly with a smirk under his red and black mask. He didn’t catch the smell of blood.
“Focused, huh?” Wade hummed, leaning on the wall next to Peter’s window. Peter jumps. He slams the Bible shut and hops up. Why didn’t his Spidey sense go off? He should’ve sensed that. Maybe he’s too stressed. He just needs to relax. That’s all he needs.
Peter huffs after he regains his composure and crosses his arms. “You scared the shit out of me. Not cool. Not cool, Wade.” He glowered. He partly blamed it on himself. Wade always comes by, he forgot. He should’ve known. The door was unlocked. Why didn’t he use the door?
Wade gives him a sideways smirk as he pulls off his mask. Peter would never get used to the way he looked. It didn’t bother him, it was just different. His skin dipped and was scarred and ribbed. “You knew I was coming by, Spidey. Anyways, you’re rocking it with no pants. I like all the ass motion.” He makes finger guns and he points at Peter, who rolls his eyes and moves to his dresser.
“I’m putting pants on just because you said that. You’re gross.”
“Don’t ruin the fun!” Wade argued. “Is that my shirt?”
“You left it.” Peter sneered.
Wade shrugged. Fair. Whatever he leaves at Peter’s house rightfully belonged to Peter. That was the unspoken rule. “Fair game.” He says with mockery in his tone.
When Pete is done changing and goes to the living room where Wade is (yes, he actually gave Peter privacy), Wade has thrown all his weapons on the floor, ravaged through Peter’s food and found a pop tart, and is thrown lazily on his couch. “Yo, can I crash here?”
Peter nods. “Sure. Mhm.” He sits down next to Wade. He didn’t bother to ask why. There was no reason. Some nights there wasn’t an answer. Sometimes it was dumb and others, Wade was too exhausted to answer the question. Peter didn’t mind that Wade stayed over. Most nights, at least. Sometimes Wade made it really hard to get sleep. Peter still had classes.
Peter grabs the remote and flips on a movie after he and Wade scroll and argue what would be the best to watch. They opted with Fast n Furious. Peter doesn’t know how they ended with that movie, because it’s one of his least favorites. Wade is doing it on purpose, he’s got to be.
“How.. was your night?” Peter asked gently, looking over at Wade. He can assume it didn’t go super nice, figuring as Wade is growing back four fingers as of now.
Wade turns to look at him after peeling his eyes away from the tv screen. “Oh, it was okay. Nothing too eventful.” He smiles as he wiggles around the nub fingers. Peter makes a disgusted face and turns around. “You’re gross,” he mocks.
Eventually, Peter feels sleep catching up to him. This movie was so boring, he hated it and was uninterested. He shifts into a position where he’s on the stomach. His couch is in the shape of an L, so there’s enough space for him to lie like that with a reasonable amount of space between Wade.
He tries to stay awake, though. He didn’t get much time with just him and Wade relaxing. There was always so much happening after patrol and what not. But he couldn’t deny the way his eyelids grew heavier and harder to keep open as time ticked by and it got later and later into the night.
Peter fell asleep five minutes later.
See, Peter knew that Wade had a weird obsession with his rear. He was used to the constant touching and comments. It wasn’t personal. It was Wade Wilson. Peter called him a walking Sex Machine, despite how mad it made Wade. If he gets to call Peter hundreds of pet names against his will, Peter gets one name.
But anyways, the touching didn’t bother him as much as it used to. He didn’t hate it, but he wasn’t the biggest fan in the world. He used to get really flustered when Wade did it before. No one ever.. thought of him like that. He was 22 the first time it happened, six months after he and Wade started patrolling, before they knew each other's identities.
It’s been almost five years since then. They know basically everything about each other, though Peter still had his secrets, Wade probably did too. Peter was closer to Wade than he was with any other person in the world. Sometimes he hated him, but Wade was his best friend. His only friend.
Even though he was used to it, the firm hand being slapped against his rear startled him awake. It would anyone, obviously— the first thing you feel when you wake up is your ass being touched. With wide eyes, Peter turns to Wade with an angry expression.
“Sorry,” Wade shrugs with a fake innocence written across his face. He was anything but innocent. Peter knew. “Couldn’t help myself, webs.” He adds. His hand was still parked on his rear. Peter wasn’t going to tell him to move it. He knew this was wrong.
Peter sighs and shakes his head. “The movies over?” He groans tiredly after he looks at the tv that dimly lit the dark room to see the credits rolling. Why didn’t Wade wake him up? He felt bad for wasting their down time. Fuck, was he a bad person? That was so inconsiderate of him.
He was still tired, eyes puffy, half asleep. He wanted to go back to sleep. He was happy that he was even able to fall asleep. Some nights he took melatonin and still couldn’t sleep. In Peter’s chaotic life, this was a small victory for his book.
Wade catches on soon and gives Peter a sympathetic smile. His scarred face crinkles at the eyes, it was a real smile that showed off his teeth. Peter gives him a tired one in return. He doesn’t fight as Wade grabs Peter’s hips and throws his calves over his shoulders. It was a compromising position, crotch to face.. Peter convinced himself Wade didn’t have any purpose behind it.
Usually, he wouldn’t let Wade do this. But he’s tired. Well, he’s always tired.. but this was nice. He hoped Wade would stay in the same room as him tonight. He could use the company. It got lonely in his apartment. “Thanks.” Peter mumbles as he hops down, of course landing on his feet.
“Maybe they should call you Cat-Boy.”
“Shut up.”
Peter climbs into the bed and pulls the blanket over his sore body and closes his eyes. There’s still a wet spot on the blanket from where he had laid down after his shower. He was asleep in a minute.
Wade smiles at Peter. He knew Peter needed rest. Wade always wanted him to sleep. He over extended himself. He was sure that Peter had insomnia, but he never brought it up. Peter already had clinical anxiety and either ADHD or the other one.. autism? Wade forgot. He mixed it up. It was one or the other. But the point is, Peter doesn’t need more things diagnosed.
Wade watches him for several minutes. Is it creepy? Yeah. But that’s kind of his brand. Pete sleeps so peacefully, eyes puffy and shut, mouth open and drooling. Peter was not a deep sleeper, so Wade had to be careful not to wake him up.
He crawls into the bed next to Peter, pushing him over. For being the smaller one, Peter sure did take up a lot of space. Wade turns away from Peter and closes his eyes, falling asleep to the soft sound of Peter’s breathing.
…
Wade wakes second. Peter was an early bird— spider? No matter what time he went to bed, he refused to wake up later than seven. He usually had classes though, so it made sense. But it was a Saturday morning, meaning other than patrol, it’d be work free today. And putting up with Wade, Peter reminded himself. It was like babysitting.
Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, which only had two chairs (he didn’t have visitors very often. Ever, other than Wade. But he was more like an intruder). His breakfast sat untouched in front of him. It was waffles, which had turned soggy. There was a glass of milk next to it. Half empty, no, half full? Whatever.
He’s doing that fidget he does again. Wade hated when he did it. He put his fingers over the hole on his left wrist where the webs came from and gently pulled out a small stream of the silky webs, wrapping them around his fingers and toying with them. Wade sits down across from him and pulls his hand away.
Peter gives him a hard look. “It doesn’t hurt.” He says, pulling his hand free. He wasn’t lying, it didn’t hurt, but it did have a nice pressure behind it. Wade thought it wasn’t smart to just be pulling the webs out like that. It didn’t look good for the spinnerets. Peter doesn’t go back to doing it again, but he toys with the little ball he already pulled out.
Before Peter can even offer the waffles to Wade, he’s already eating them. Peter just liked to make food, even if he didn’t eat it. He’s still tired. Really tired. But, for once, he slept pretty good. It was a nice change. Wade noticed the way he seemed a little more lively. But it seemed to just be nerves.
There was no telling what Peter was anxious about. Wade didn’t ask. He wouldn’t get an answer. They established that years ago. Wade asks a simple ‘you good’, Peter nods, and they go do their separate things.
“You’d better take a chill pill. I’ll make you a cup of coffee.” Wade offers from the kitchen. He knew it wouldn’t calm him down. But that’s why he was putting melatonin powder in it, maybe he’d take a nap or something. “That sounds nice.” Peter nods from his seat at the table.
The apartment felt a little more lively with Wade in it.
“Wade?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Wade smiles softly at him.