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Peter was kneeling on the roof of some skyscraper, silently, with his arms wrapped around his knees, pulled close into his chest. Normally, he had the company of a certain loud-mouthed mercenary, but not tonight. Wade was off on some sort of mission, for which he would be well-compensated, Peter was sure. And, it wasn’t even a hit- so the odds of someone dying are fairly low (for Deadpool, that is). But even though Peter should’ve been proud of the mercenary- his friend- for taking jobs that aren’t likely to end up with someone getting killed (Wade included), the pride didn’t outweigh the looming loneliness.
Peter didn’t expect to miss the mercenary so much. Even though Wade occasionally called him, from his personal phone, no less, it didn’t stop the man from missing his companion.
He had M.J. and Ned, but they couldn’t patrol with him, and the past week of hanging out with them more had just made the odd emptiness more pronounced. Normally, he and Wade text pretty regularly, but since his top-secret mission is just that, he can only afford to call Peter every so often. Not often enough.
So, Spiderman remained, staring into the neon abyss of New York City, and waited for his senses- spider or otherwise- to alert him to someone who needs help. Wade had been gone for just over a week, and every patrol got a little harder without him.
Even though Peter had been Spiderman for almost three times as long as he’s known the mercenary, he didn’t realize how much he depended on Wade. Everything was louder without his constant talking; the city, fights, his own mind. And he missed his partner-in-stopping-crime from covering his blind spots. The longer they had worked together, the better they became. At this point everyone, the Avengers and the public, knew that the two were a package deal. You couldn’t get one without the other. Which was a point of contention with the previous group for a while, before they got used to Wade and understood that he wouldn’t kill anyone unless it was absolutely necesssary.
Deadpool was outstanding at protecting Spiderman, although it hurt to watch him take bullets- or worse- to protect the much less immortal hero. Peter had to watch his own six, now, and he hadn’t been used to that. He and Wade started working together on an odd mission the Avengers needed him for: He was a glorified babysitter to Deadpool while they investigated alien weapons infiltrating the black market and causing chaos across the globe.
From there, Deadpool kept showing up while Spiderman was patrolling, he had a knack for finding Peter, it seemed. And they found that they worked pretty well together, they had similar senses of humor and became friends. Once Spiderman and Deadpool became close, after a year or so, he decided that it was time for Wade to finally meet Peter. The past year and a half, of Wade and Peter being close, not just Deadpool and Spiderman, or Wade and Spiderman, they became the inseparable duo they are now.
Once Peter decided the city seemed quiet enough for the night, he webbed (?) back to his apartment, into the window he kept open just for this.
Papers were scattered across his secondhand dining table, stacked on his coffee table, in front of the TV that was almost exclusively for gaming with Wade. An empty pizza box rested on the kitchen counter, amongst various science experiments and equipment, sticky notes scattered across the apartment. His bedroom was in a similar state of chaos- clothes and suits made homes on his floor, the bed unmade, and more papers and books on his nightstand. He’d need to clean.
The weekend passed slowly, and without any calls from Wade, with Peter failing to make much progress cleaning his space. But, he had prepped for the lab he was leading, so at least something important got done. He packed his bag tightly, never having enough room for everything he’d need for the day. And always forgetting something important. Nevertheless, he left his apartment and headed for the subway.
The classroom he was in this morning was the same as always; gray walls, gray ceiling, gray lab equipment. The undergrads were practically gray, too. Fortunately, the lab went off without a hitch, most of the students succeeding in their chlorophyll experiments, turning in scribbly lab sheets that Peter would need to grade before they met on Wednesday. He’d find time, he always did, and with Wade out of town, he should be able to find more time than normal. Unfortunately.
Peter waved a goodbye to his students, except for one, who lingered behind.
“Mr. Parker,” he approached Peter, who was picking up miscellaneous lab equipment students had left behind.
“Yes, Adam?”
“I was wondering if you needed any help putting away equipment, since I have some time before my next lecture,” Adam smiled, running a hand through messy brown hair and tugging at the hem of his shirt. Peter knew that Adam had time before his lecture, because Peter was the lecturer. The past two semesters- last summer included- Adam had taken almost every class that Peter taught. At first, Peter thought that Adam just really appreciated Peter’s teaching style, but that slowly dissipated into him realizing that the young man had a crush on his TA. Which Peter had no idea what to do about. Wade offered to threaten the kid, but Peter reminded him that Adam was just that; a kid. Who knew nothing beyond Peter’s status as a TA and appreciation for science. Since Peter was pretty young for a grad student, he’s had students ask him out or express interest in him before. But none of them tried to take every class he was teaching. How Adam even knew what he was teaching was beyond him. Normally, he’d just politely turn the student down, letting them know that it would be unprofessional to engage in relationships with his students- not to mention against the university’s policy- and that he was already in a committed relationship. Which wasn’t completely false. He’d acknowledged his feelings for Wade a long time ago. He wasn’t going to do anything about them, but he knew they were there. And Peter was sure Wade knew, too, and didn’t reciprocate. But whenever Peter told Wade about another student professing their feelings, he left out the ‘I’m already in a committed relationship’ part. That would be a little hard to explain, and he didn’t want to lie to Wade and tell him that he was making it up. Which was still not completely false. The whole situation was just going to be kept secret.
“Sure, Adam,” Peter wasn’t going to say no to a little free labor, even if it meant giving this kid false hope. He directed Adam where to put the equipment, even though this was pretty much a weekly occurrence. Adam popped up pretty regularly the past few semesters; offering to help during class, attending Peter’s office hours in the library, emailing him questions about lectures or assignments (even though he attended office hours and often hung around Peter after class), or just saying hello in passing. He had never said or done anything to make Peter uncomfortable, so, until then, Peter would just let him live. There was no reason to embarrass the poor kid if he didn’t need to, and Peter was fairly certain Adam had heard from other students- who all noticed his schoolboy crush- that Peter was in fact taken.
After Adam left, Peter made his way across campus to get a coffee before his lecture. As a superhero and full-time grad student, Peter didn’t really have time to sleep as much as probably necessary. But, he survived on caffeine, as most college students do. His superhuman abilities did not help him in this case, unfortunately. But, his metabolism allowed him to consume way more caffeine than anyone should have; his breve with six shots always gave the baristas mini heart attacks just by looking at it. As he walked back across campus, warming his hands on his paper cup, his phone rang. Peter frantically pulled it from his pocket, seeing the name he was hoping for flash across his screen; Wade.
“Hey, Wade! I’m glad you’re alive,” He sighed into the phone.
“Petey, me too, you would not believe how hard it is to not die in Russia. My penis is more frozen than Prince Harry’s, and that’s saying something!” Wade laughed on the other end.
“Fuck, Wade, are you sure you’re alright? When are you going to be back?” Peter’s worry outweighed the urge to banter with his anti-hero friend.
“Uh, Spides, I’m not sure. I think I’m wrapping this up like Jimmy Fallon. I think I’ll be back by the end of the we-” gunshots and loud shouting interrupted him, “well shit, see you soon, babycakes!” Wade laughed and hung up, leaving Peter staring at his phone screen slack-jawed. What the fuck.
He hurried back to the science building his lecture was in, a smaller lecture hall for just thirty-five students, hand selected by himself and his advisor, Dr. Ian McKensey, a respected name in biochemistry and mechanics. Peter settled into his chair at the front of the room and began opening his presentation as students filed into the room. He missed Wade, deeply, even though he’d just spoken with the man.
Peter wrapped up his lecture and continued to drone through the monotony of his week until Thursday night, when his normal patrol quickly got out of hand.
He was listening from a rooftop, like normal, when Spiderman heard a soft, muffled scream from a few blocks away. He sprung into action, feeling guiltily thankful to have a distraction from his moping. Spiderman came upon a few nasty looking grunts, laughing at a pretty woman, who was dressed like she had come from a club.
“Aren’t you pretty, huh?” One said, one hand over her mouth and the other on her waist, rubbing the velvety fabric of her dress. She was crying and shaking while the other men laughed and waited for the man holding her to give them instructions.
“Hey, guys! What are you doing?” Peter landed in front of them, startling them enough to web the girl away from them.
“Who the hell are you?” The man who was just holding the poor woman asked. Upon further inspection, he had a deep scar running across his face, parallel to his mouth.
“Uh, Spiderman, duh. Haven’t you heard of me?” Peter raised an eyebrow at scar-man and his buddies, whose shock was quickly wearing off.
Peter told the girl to run and call the police, she nodded hastily before getting away as quickly as she could. His spidey senses jerked him towards the wall of the alley just in time to not get shot by one of the men, God knows which. They had all pulled guns on Spidey, and he swung around, weaving between the fire escapes and the men, who were so trigger-happy they accidentally shot each other. Before long, Peter’s fighting and their stupidity knocked all of them, except scar-man, out. Scar-man had disappeared. Peter sighed, webbing the other goons to the wall of the alley before calling the police. Just as he was reaching to the side of his mask to connect to the emergency line, Peter felt a sharp crack against his chin, and a blossom of sharp heat followed. In his hurry to get justice for the woman these men wanted to do god knows what with, he didn’t notice scar-man’s disappearance. The man in question had just pistol-whipped Spidey, very poorly.
“Dude, for real? That was awful,” Peter rubbed his chin, shaking his head towards the man.
“You fucking loser. We had her!” The man had stepped backwards from Peter in fear, the pistol-whipping a moment of rage and poor judgement, it seemed.
“You’re a terrible bad guy. Kidnapping aside,” Peter leaped towards the man, webbing the gun away from him. The fact that he hadn’t actually shot at him led him to believe the guy wasn’t in it for some sadistic reason. He probably had a family or something that he needed to feed.
“Hang in there, dude. Probably shouldn’t be trying to take pretty women off the street,” Peter chided as he webbed the man up, alongside his unconscious buddies, and finally called the police.
As he left the scene, Peter felt shakier than normal. His mask had rips along the chin, where scar-guy’s gun met his face. Fuck, he though to himself, I have classes to teach. Fortunately, he didn’t have any early classes, so most of the night would be spent sewing his mask and praying that his healing factor was speedy tonight. He stumbled into his open window, catching his elbow on the frame. Peter was oddly uncoordinated and his thoughts were choppy. What is happening to me? Blood was slowly dripping down his chin, onto his chest.
Just as Peter was about to peel off his suit, he heard a gunshot nearby. Spiderman was too selfless to understand that going back out into the night was probably one of the worst decisions he could make at that point, but he did it anyway. He barely made it to the rooftop above where an older man was being mugged, a bullet hole in the drywall of the building next to him and a man in a mask in front of him.
Normally, just seeing Spiderman was enough to send petty thieves like this guy running, but he must have seen how run-down and out of it Peter was. He didn’t run when Spiderman landed on the pavement next to him, too muddled to let out a normal quip. The old man managed to shake off his fear enough to notice his queue to run, as the mugger stared into Spiderman’s eyes.
The world was swimming for Peter, behind his mask, and this guy might be a petty thief, but he was not a stupid one. Instead of shooting Peter, he stepped forward to punch him.
Spiderman barely reacted in time to deflect. The thief went in for another hit, sweeping Peter’s legs out from under him at the same time.
All Peter could think was, I hope I don’t die. As the theif loomed over Peter, he watched his mouth move in slow-motion, not able to hear a word he said. The man appeared to laugh, lifting his gun to point right at Spidey’s face, when someone beat him to it.
The gun fell from his hands, the man following suit, falling limply on Peter’s chest. He blinked, confused, as someone pulled the man off of Peter. Deadpool.
He saw Wade’s mouth moving, but couldn’t make out any words. When he tried to say something, he couldn’t make anything come out.
But instead of panicking, he just felt so drowsy. The merc seemed alarmed at Peter’s state, rubbing a hand across his forehead before picking up Peter, who promptly lost consciousness.
Deadpool took Spiderman to his nearest apartment, a quiet highrise that they often holed up in to hang out during Peter’s occasional break. He gently laid Peter on his sofa, digging around in the kitchen for his first aid kit.
Wade carefully removed Spidey’s mask, revealing his soft, bruised face. He had a gash in his chin, and there was a soft outline of green around it. Unusual, to say the least. The merc furrowed his brows, but proceeded to patch up the hero. After two and a half years of crime-fighting, this was not the first time one of them had brought the other back to fix them up; they had a routine. Wade peeled the suit off of Peter, outfitting him in loosely fitting clothes he’d pulled from his closet- ones that were too small for him, but he kept just for Pete.
Once he’d finished patching up the spider, he moved him from the couch to Wade’s very comfortable bed- leaving water and tylenol on the bedside table, like he had just brought Peter back from a long night out. Which, in some way, he had. Wade sat on his couch, waiting for Peter to come back to consciousness, but not afraid. With all of the experience he had, he was pretty sure Pete would be alright, but he didn’t understand the reaction he’d had. Unless he’d been poisoned.
Wade also knew that Spidey would not be pleased that he’d killed someone. But that someone was about to kill him, so it’s even, right? Isn’t that what they say? Two wrongs make a right? Two lefts make a right? Frankly, the merc didn’t care. He would play along and not kill people for Peter, but once Peter’s life was directly in the crossfire, that was it. Wade cared so deeply for the spider, and even though he knew the man didn’t feel the same for him, he wasn’t going to let him get killed. Not Peter.
Wade couldn’t survive that. It would be good for his clients, but very, very bad for Wade himself. As the merc silently, for once, sat, cleaning his weapons from his stint in Russia, Peter slept.
Peter woke up in a dark bed, slightly disheveled and without a suit. And with a killer migraine. He lay, silently, wrapped in familiar, soft blankets, regaining his consciousness.
Everything from the previous night was muddled, he couldn’t remember anything after getting pistol-whipped by scar-man. He rolled from one side to the other, feeling a soft ache in his jaw that was unrivaled by the pounding in his head.
“Fuck,” he gasped, hands feeling his jaw. Where the gash had been, all that was left was a faint, painful area of raised skin that would hopefully be gone soon. He pressed his face into the pillow beneath him- the pillow that smelled familiarly like leather and musk. Wade? He knew that smell.
Peter sat up, looking around the room. Where he expected to see his piles of clothing strewn about, all he saw was Wade’s hardwood floor, a neat dresser and closet, and a glass of water accompanied by a bottle of tylenol on the dresser. He wasn’t in his apartment. Peter rubbed his head as he drank water and took a few pills. He thought he went back to his place after webbing up those goons- he faintly remembered hitting his elbow on his window frame. As he reached to his elbow, looking for a bruise even though he knew there wouldn’t be one, he realized he was wearing Wade’s clothes.
Even though this wasn’t the first time Wade had patched him up and put him in his clothes, Peter was confused. Wade was in Russia on a mission. He’s not in New York. How the fuck did Peter end up in his apartment, wearing his clothes, and not remember any of it?
The only logical conclusion, as the glass of water and tylenol indicated, was that Wade was in fact back. As Peter stood to look around- and hopefully find the anti-hero in question- he was dizzy. The migraine rolled around his head and Peter felt like he would die if he didn’t immediately lay back down.
“Goddamn it,” He said, flopping back onto Wade’s bed. Peter had a lecture to give today. He didn’t know what time it was, where his phone was, or what the fuck was even wrong with himself. As if he had spidey senses of his own, Wade comes tumbling into the bedroom, wearing sweats and his mask.
“Petey, babycakes, darling,” He sits on the side of the bed, staring wide-eyed at Peter, “are you feeling okay? You were in a pretty nasty sitch before I swung in and saved the day, hero-style, if I may add. Perfect timing, too.” He reached out and brushed a hand across Peter’s forehead.
“I feel like I’m gonna fucking die. My head is killing me. And I have a lecture to give at one,” Peter groaned, the merc’s presence only so comforting.
“Uh, well, good thing I comandeered your phone and cancelled it, then,” Wade sheepishly smiled, and Peter breathed a sigh of relief.
“I thought you were in Russia, Wade, what happened?” Peter looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed.
“Well, baby boy, I told you I’d finish up, lickety split. Not like in the bedroom, if you catch my drift,” he winked at the man in his bed, “and I came back to find you in an alleyway about to get murked by some guy in a mask. So,” Wade rubbed the back of his neck, “I maybe unalived him before he could shoot you. And I brought you back here.”
“I know I’m supposed to be upset that you killed someone, but I’m honestly glad you saved my life. I missed you,” Peter sighed, reaching for water, and Wade ignored the warmth in Peter’s voice- and his chest.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m your knight in shining armor. I know,” He tossed his imaginary hair over his shoulder, “but what happened to you?”
“I don’t know, dude. I was saving some poor girl from a bunch of dudes with guns, and one of them pistol-whipped me. Next thing I know, I’m in your room.”
Peter and Wade looked at each other. Both equally confused.
“Petey-Pie, I know you’re a certified genius, but I think I can justifiably say that the math isn’t mathing, here. When I found you, there was one guy,” Wade seemed a little more concerned than before.
“Yeah, I know. I thought I went back to my apartment, but I must have heard something after and gone somewhere else. The only thing I can think of is that there was something in that guy’s gun? That doesn’t even make sense, but after I got hit, all I remember is hitting my elbow on the window frame of my apartment.” Peter tries slowly sitting up against the headboard of Wade’s bed, the other man gently guiding him up. If they weren’t trying to figure out what happened to Peter, the fact that they were a few inches apart would be the only thing he could focus on. Wade was finally back, and they couldn’t even hang out like normal, since Peter was suddenly poisoned or something.
“Dude, there’s no way I can get up,” Peter laughed, leaning forward and resting his heavy head on Wade’s shoulder. He tensed at first, not sure what to do with Peter wanting contact with him, before relaxing softly. He reached up, rubbing soft circles into the smaller man’s back.
“Gimme a bit, and I’ll bring you something to eat and figure out who the fuck was doing this and what it is, okay sweetcheeks?” He spoke softly into Peter’s ear, his light shiver not going unnoticed by the mercenary.
Wade brings something for Peter to eat- his favorite Thai takeout- before making his way across town to get to the bottom of what happened to Spiderman. Wade is sitting, fully suited up, across the bar from Weasel.
“I need info,” Wade is deadpan, usually a tone that’s saved for very very important circumstances, such as the one he’s feeling now. Weasel raises an eyebrow, waiting for the merc to fill him in.
“Someone managed to poison Spiderman and I need to figure out how and why.”
“Well, I might have someone who knows something, but they ain’t gonna talk to you,” Weasel laughs as he wipes down the bar.
“I know how to make people talk, Weasel,” Wade grumbled, tunnel-vision focused on figuring out who the fuck tried to kill his spider. Well, not his. But sort of.
“I know, Red, but this guy is pretty insistent. He won’t even come around unless I’m closed. I know you have sources, but I don’t want to jeaprodize this guy,” he shakes his head and continues cleaning.
“Weasel,” Deadpool wasn’t joking or laughing, this could’ve been very serious. His voice was gravelly and rough, and Weasel looked up at him from behind the bar.
“Okay, DP. I’ll see what I can do,” he turns, pulling a burner phone from his pocket, and stepping back.
Eventually, Weasel takes Wade to the back room, where a man in a hood sat. The man was, from what you could tell by looking at his fully-covered silhouette, of average hight and build. He was nervously tapping his foot, and the merc could tell he was glancing around, making sure the exits hadn’t moved, even though his face was covered.
“Alright, Deadpool, Alchemist. Alchemist, Deadpool,” Weasel gestured between the two men before turning tail and leaving- the tension in the room stiff and sharp. Deadpool sat back against the door Weasel just exited from, crossing his arms and ankles.
“Alchemist, huh? Is that fancy speak for someone who makes poisons to take out Spiderman?” Deadpool laughed sourly.
“Look, man, I’m not gonna justify myself to you. I told Weasel that I wouldn’t talk to you, you and Spiderman are close and I can’t afford you ruining my plan,” The man, Alchemist, waved a hand out, frustratedly. Wade assumed he’d been lied to, perhaps expecting to meet someone other than the one man who had- and would continue to- die over and over to protect the spidery hero. Among other things.
“Sure, sure. I just have a few questions,” Deadpool stepped forward, pulling a blade from somewhere on his suit, and ambling toward the shadowy man. The Alchemist started to panic, it seemed. He leaned back and started mumbling-
“Dude, please, I’ll tell you anything, I just need to not die.”
“You won’t! As long as you pass my test,” Wade laughed, tossing his knife straight at the poor man- boy (?)- who flinched as it neatly sliced the edge of his hood, impaling the wooden paneling behind him.
“Number one; what did you poison him with?” Deadpool slammed a leather foot between the man’s knees, thumping heavily on the wooden box he sat on.
“Uh, I call it the Spider’s Silver. I formulated it specifically for Spiderman- from his DNA,” The man was trembling slightly, Wade could feel him trying to steady himself.
“The Spider’s Silver?” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Jesus, you kids have no imagination these days. Number two; how the fuck did you get Spidey’s DNA?”
The Alchemist didn’t answer, he simply sat, shaking his head slightly.
“I hope you don’t need me to repeat myself, Alchemist,” Wade leaned down further, as the man shrunk to keep his face hidden.
“Look, I’m around him a lot.”
“How are you around Spiderman?”
Neither man spoke. You could feel the anger rolling off of Wade, the tension somehow grew, both of them staring at each other.
The mercenary broke the silence with the sharp sound of a katana being unsheathed.
“You wanna do this the hard way? Fine by me. I haven’t had an outlet for dismemberment in a while. Hold still,” He stepped off of the box, holding his sword right above The Alchemist’s prize goods.
“No- no, I’ll tell you. I know him from his civilian identity. I know who Spiderman is,” as soon as these words left the man’s mouth, Wade stiffened slightly in surprise. The Alchemist sat up, fueled with some sort of misplaced confidence.
“If you let me go, I’ll tell you his identity,” The sword above the man’s jewels didn’t seem to scare him anymore: He didn’t think Wade knew Peter. Which he would use to his advantage.
“Sure, kid, I just have one more question. Why?” He pulled his katana away and stepped backwards, putting a few extra feet of space between himself and the Alchemist.
“Well, I don’t want to, uh, piss you off,” The man grew quiet.
“Go ahead. This is a safe space,” Wade gave the Alchemist jazz hands, sparkles emitting from his fingers.
“Okay…” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved hand, “look, I like him. A lot. And I know he’s turned down other… people… by telling them he is already in a committed relationship. And I respect that, man! I really do- but, I think if he really knew me, he’d like me more than whoever this mysterious partner is. Which, now that I think about it, is probably you…”
Wade stared at the person across the room from him, resisting the urge to simultaneously kill him and probe him for more information. It seemed the silence on his part granted one of his wishes, though, as it made the anxious Alchemist continue to ramble.
“I took a lecture with him last summer, to try and knock out some extra credits and maybe graduate early and he just… I think it was love at first sight, y’know? He’s just fantastic. Which, I’m sure you know. So I started taking any and every class with him that I could. He has a lab with a lecture an hour after, which meant I could stay behind after the lab and help him and try to get to know him. But he never told me very much when I asked questions. So, one day, I told him I’d take care of some vials after he’d touched them, and I got some DNA from his fingerprints. Which is how I found out he was Spiderman, though I had some suspicions. So, I formulated a toxin that is so specific to his DNA and body that I’m not sure it would work on anyone else the way I wanted it to. I gave it to some people I know- some gang members- to set him up. One of them managed to land one hit on him, just one! And I was supposed to come out and snatch him once the poison set in. But he escaped. I didn’t even know it worked! And I waited until I knew you were out of town to do it.”
The kid just kept talking and talking, and Wade let him. The Alchemist didn’t seem to realize all of the flaws in his logic, markedly the fact that he assumed Wade was not only Peter’s secret, committed partner, but that Wade also didn’t know that Peter was Spiderman.
“What were you gonna do with him?” Wade stepped back towards the man, making assumptions of his own as to his motives.
“Well… I hadn’t really thought that far, honestly. I was hoping to pretend to have saved him from the gang members, claiming they must have poisoned him, and keep dosing him for a while, until he fell for me. I wasn’t going to… take advantage of him. I would never!” The kid seemed to realize he was being led on, he looked up at the mercenary, “You can’t tell him! Please, you can’t. He can’t know who I am, it’ll ruin my life! I could be kicked out of school. Or arrested. Or both! And he’ll hate me. Deadpool, you can’t tell him. Please!” The Alchemist begged, hands together.
“One condition,” Wade raised an eyebrow, Spidey would be finding out from Wade, no doubt, but the kid didn’t need to know, “give me all of the rest of the poison. And don’t make any more, ever.”
The Alchemist nodded frantically, digging around in the pockets of his jacket for several vials of shiny, clear liquid.
“Here,” he held them out toward Wade, “I don’t have any more, just these. I won’t make more, I swear.”
Wade took the vials from him, but held tightly to his wrist.
“What’s your name, kid?” He felt the Alchemist look into his eyes, frightened.
“You can’t tell him!” He pleaded, wrist fragile between Wade’s fingers. Grip tightening.
“What is your name,” Wade wasn’t asking.
“Adam,” The Alchemist said, barely louder than a whisper.
“Goodbye, Adam,” Deadpool let his arm go, “I hope, for your sake, we never have to meet again.”
He winked and waved before skipping out the door Weasel had left from before.
Wade returned to a sleeping spider in his bed, and sighed a breath of relief. Thankfully, Peter wouldn’t have to do any teaching this weekend, which would give them enough time to mull over the events of the previous night. Wade had figured this was some science prodigy student who had a schoolboy crush on his hero, but his half-baked plan was the only reason Peter wasn’t missing at the moment. Not that Wade wouldn’t have been able to locate and rescue him. But at least this way, a kid didn’t have to die. Because Wade would’ve killed Adam if he’d actually taken Peter.
When the man in question finally woke up, Wade filled him in from the comfort of his bed- Wade’s bed, that is. Pretending like it didn’t do strange things to him to see the sweet, brunette man safely asleep, wrapped in his sheets and his clothes.
“What? Adam?” Peter seemed shocked, eyebrows knit together in confusion. The day of sleep had done him well, though, he could sit up without looking like he was about to keel over.
“That doesn’t make sense, how could it have been Adam? I’ve only known him for, like, six months? How could he do that in six months?” Peter stared at Wade, brown eyes wide with disbelief.
“I don’t know, Pete. But I have these vials,” the larger man pulled the vials of liquid from his pocket, holding them out.
“I need to take a closer look at these, back in my apartment,” Peter tried to get out of the bed, swaying slightly and reaching out to the mercenary to steady himself.
“Oh no you don’t,” Wade interrupted, “your healing factor only heals so fast, you need rest.” Wade firmly, but gently, pushed him back in the bed.
“But Wade, I have so much to do!” Peter softly whined, dropping his hands frustratedly into the comforter beneath him.
“And you can do that tomorrow. Dr. Deadpool says one more night in the hospital, then you can go home, alright?” Wade stood, popping his hip like a teenage girl, before sashaying away. He heard faint, tired grumbles from the hero as he closed the door to his room.
Later, Wade was comfortably situated on his sofa, freshly showered and outfitted in cottony sweats rather than his leather suit. He was cleaning his guns, of course taking care of his second most valuable possessions- he didn’t really own Peter, but Spiderman was naturally his first most valuable possession- when he heard quiet groans coming from his room. Now, Wade didn’t have superhuman hearing like Peter, but he was the best mercenary in the business, a business that he’d been in for quite some time, so his ears were particularly attuned to hearing sounds of distress. Much less those sounds coming from his aforementioned first most valuable thing.
“Pete?” He asked his empty living room, getting up from his position of cleaning. Wade slowly opened his bedroom door, only to see the man in question writhing around gently, still asleep. He reached out and softly shook Peter’s shoulder. He opened his eyes slightly, looking around in confusion before realizing where he was.
“Oh,” Peter laughed forcibly, his voice gravelly from having been asleep, “I had a little bit of a nightmare, Wade, sorry.”
“You don’t need’a apologize to me, Spider-babe. Do you need a Deadpool-sized body pillow to aid your nightmare-less sleep?” The mercenary grinned down at Peter, who’s embarrassment from having a nightmare slipped away, replaced by a smirk.
“Actually, that would be nice,” he said, scooching over in Wade’s very large bed to allow him some space to join.
“As you wish, princess,” Wade smiled and slid in next to the spider. As they shifted around, searching for some sort of comfortable still platonic proximity, Peter whispered a quiet thank you to the mercenary, before they both fell asleep, surrounded by each other.
When Peter woke up a few hours later, he found himself snuggled close to a very warm, very much asleep, Wade. He blushed, but went back to sleep, fully content, for once.