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Peter Parker is dating Spider-Man.
That's fine. Wade doesn't mind. He's a little bit in love with Petey, but it wouldn't be the first time he's been unrequited. Far from it. In fact, he's very used to getting the squishies for people who will never squish him back.
But Peter keeps showing up with bruises, and that Wade is absolutely not fine with.
Spider-Man is abusing Peter Parker. Putting the dom in domestic violence. Wade's always had respect for the little spider, but that went down the drain the second Peter showed up to their hangout with finger-shaped bruises on his neck.
At first, Wade gave him the benefit of the doubt. Peter had said he got mugged, and Wade chose to believe him.
But it happened again. And again. Bruises on his arms, a black eye, and Wade may respect the guy but he's not stupid. He's seen enough of these cases to know what it means that Peter is lying about how he keeps getting injured, sees how squirmy he gets when Wade asks.
If there's one thing Wade won't tolerate from his hero, it's him beating up on his defenseless boyfriend.
The next time Spidey lands on their designated rooftop, he sighs. “I feel like petty criminals are getting more bold. And stupider. Do you feel like they're getting stupider?”
Wade hums. “No. But you are.”
“What?”
Within an instant, Wade has his katanas out, criss crossed in an X shape under Spidey’s chin. Spidey visibly swallows under his mask.
“Deadpool… What's going on?”
“I could ask you the same question. You think you can just beat up on your boyfriend and I'll turn a blind eye?” Wade says coolly.
“Boyfriend?” Spidey sounds like he's choking. Good. Be afraid, be very afraid.
“Yeah, Peter Parker. I know all about him. I see his myriad of bruises you leave all over him. And if you don't leave him alone, I'm going to have to do something…drastic.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Spidey says quickly, waving his hands in front of himself. “You think I'm dating Peter Parker and abusing him?”
“Keep up, Spidey.”
“Deadpool, I'm not doing any of that!”
Wade scoffs. “Then how do you explain his injuries? Because he is not clumsy—boy can keep his balance on a beam, I know he's not falling down any stairs.”
Spidey hesitates, and that's more than enough proof for Wade.
In an instant, Wade is dropping one of his swords, pulling out a gun, and pressing the trigger right into Spidey's stomach.
He'd expected him to dodge, if he's honest, but Wade's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Spidey wants to make this easy on him, that's fine with Wade.
Spidey gasps, hands coming up to press against the wound as he stumbles backward. He loses his balance and falls on his ass. An ass Wade used to think was perfect, until he saw Peter's. Until he saw Spidey’s true colors. “Deadpool—”
“That's a fatal wound, Spidey,” Wade hums. “Now, I could call an ambulance for you. But first, I'm gonna need your word that you'll never lay your filthy hands on Peter again.”
“I'm not— You have to believe me, DP, I'm not like that,” Spidey begs.
“I don't believe you,” Wade says simply. “Hell, even if you promise me, I might not believe you. Once an abuser, always an abuser.”
Wade can see Spidey's chest moving, his breaths coming too-fast. It would've sent Wade into a panic, before. Back when he'd thought Spidey was the goal, the hero to live up to. The one to strive to be like.
Back before Peter.
Wade crouches next to him. “You can't do it, can you? You can't promise me you won't hurt him. It's that much of a power trip for you, huh?”
Spidey shakes his head, and Wade thinks it's a little frantic. He takes some bitter pleasure in Spidey’s pain. Good. Hurt like you hurt Peter. “How can I promise never to do something again if I've never done it before!?”
More denials. This is getting annoying. Wade sighs. “Fine. You wanna play it like that, go ahead.” He settles on the rooftop next to Spidey with his legs crossed. “I've got all night.”
Spidey laughs, a disbelieving sound. “I'm gonna die. Deadpool’s going to kill me.”
“Sure are. Now, we could solve all this by you just making one itty bitty promise. Tell me you'll never hurt Peter again.”
Spidey swallows. His voice trembles when he says, “I promise I'll never hurt Peter again.”
Wade spears his katana into Spidey's shoulder, feeling a thrill go up his spine when he screams. “Liar,” he hisses.
He wouldn't be surprised if a sob ripped itself from Spidey's throat right about now, but none comes. Instead, Spidey whimpers, still putting pressure on his gunshot wound, effectively ignoring the katana lodged in his shoulder. Smart move. The stab wound won't kill him, but within the next few minutes, that GSW will.
“You're pathetic,” Wade says. “Beating up on little twinks with no shot against you.”
“Please,” Spidey begs. “I'm not. I swear I'm not.”
He coughs, and Wade can see the fabric at his mouth getting damp with droplets of blood.
“It should be weird, killing you,” Wade muses, ignoring Spidey's denial. “I idolized you for so long, I shouldn't have even been able to bring myself to pull out that gun. But it's not. And you know why, little spider?”
Spidey doesn't react. Wade doesn't mind. He can monologue with the best of them.
“Because even though we're not dating—because he gave you that privilege, you sick fuck—Peter is the best fucking thing to ever happen to me, and anyone who hurts him deserves what's coming to them. And what's coming to them is me. Mercilessly.”
Spidey inhales sharply. “You're in love with Peter?”
Wade shrugs. “Love, obsession, does it matter? He's everything to me, that's all you need to know.”
“My mask,” he rasps. “Take off my mask.”
“Why? You think I'm gonna see your face and regret my choices? No one is that pretty.”
“Take off my damn mask, Deadpool!”
“Alright, alright.” Wade raises his hands in surrender. “I guess I can give a dying man his last wish.”
With none too careful fingers, Wade grips the bottom of the mask and rolls it up until it pops off Spidey's head.
Wade's eyes widen, and the mask slips from his fingers onto the concrete.
“Peter?” he croaks.
Spidey—Peter, Peter, how can he be Peter?—winces. “Hey.”
“No. No, no, no, this can't be, you can't— Peter!?”
“I think we've established that,” Peter says sardonically, wincing again. Wade's not sure if it's from embarrassment or pain.
Pain. Because Wade hurt Peter. Because Wade is killing him.
No, no, no…
Wade scrambles to get his hands on the gunshot wound atop Peter's, pressing down, putting as much pressure on it as he can. Without the mask, Wade can see how glassy Peter's eyes look, like he's barely there anymore.
“You love me,” Peter accuses. Although it sounds less accusatory and more full of wonder.
“Yeah,” Wade croaks. “I do, I love you, so you have to survive this, okay? You can't leave me now. Not yet. Not ever.”
“I love you too,” Peter says.
Wade can barely see through the hot tears blocking his vision. “You do?”
Peter nods, but the movement seems to jostle and hurt him, because he winces again. Wade wants to fucking kill himself. He will, if Peter doesn't survive this. He'll go to Death herself and make her bring him back.
“I didn't know how to ask you out,” he rasps, before he's coughing up a storm, blood spraying from his mouth, staining his lips and teeth. “Felt wrong when you didn't know. Was tryna figure out how to tell you the truth. Couldn't… Couldn't get the courage to do it. ’m sorry.”
“No,” Wade says firmly, though his voice breaks. “No, I'm sorry. You tried to tell me, and I wouldn't listen. Fuck, I have to call an ambulance. How am I supposed to get you to the ground like this? Peter, tell me how to save you.”
Peter shakes his head. “It's too late, Wade,” he says softly.
“No!” Wade shouts, gritting his teeth together. “This isn't the end, I won't fucking let it be!”
His head lolls to the side, and a sob rips itself from Wade's throat.
“Why didn't you dodge? You're Spider-Man, why didn't you dodge like you always do?”
Peter shakes his head. “My spider sense doesn't go off around you.”
Wade's breath catches in his throat. The ultimate show of trust, and Wade used it to kill him.
“I need to say the Shema,” he says, voice so soft Wade can barely hear him.
“The what?”
“It's what Jews are supposed to say when they die.” Peter licks his bloody lips. “Do you think… Do you think it's important? I don't… I can't remember it. Do you think I'm gonna get in trouble?”
Wade takes a shaky breath. “No, Peter. I don't think you'll get in trouble.”
Peter seems soothed. Good. Wade doesn't want his last moments to be stressful.
Fuck. His last moments. Because he's dying. Because Wade killed him. All he wanted was to protect Peter, and in doing so, he murdered him.
The irony of Wade's life.
“I'm so sorry, Peter,” he croaks. “I didn't— I just wanted to protect you. I didn't know. I didn't know…”
“It's okay,” Peter says, because of course he forgives Wade, because Peter is the kindest person Wade's ever met. Of course he would forgive Wade for accidentally murdering him. “You were trying to protect me. Makes me happy…”
Peter lifts a hand and presses it to Wade's cheek. It leaves a bloody handprint, but Wade doesn't care. He deserves so much more than having to clean blood off his suit.
Wade rips off his mask and places Peter's hand back on his cheek, holding it there. “Don't leave me,” he begs.
Peter's smile is small but not pained. He must be past that stage. On the one hand, Wade is glad he doesn't have to hurt anymore. On the other, it means he's that much closer to losing him, and Wade can't handle that.
“Don't blame yourself.”
“Fuck off,” Wade says, voice breaking. “It's my fault. I killed you.”
Peter shakes his head. Wade can feel his hand on his cheek going slack, can see his eyes fluttering shut. It's almost over. Wade presses his lips to Peter's palm.
“I love you,” Wade says softly.
Peter's eyes are closed, but his lips turn up into a small smile. “That makes me happy,” he murmurs. So soft. Like he barely even exists anymore.
After a minute or two of silence, Wade presses his fingers to Peter's pulse point. He feels nothing.
And it's all Wade's fault.