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“No! Get your own take out Wade!”
“No can do itsy bitsy, I bought these wonderful, super culturally appropriate chow mein, and its only fair if YOU feed me at least a bite of it!”
“Theres literally another box of it, in your lap.”
“Yeah but yours looks tastier somehow, what kind of spider seduction did you put on the chef to give you more meat than me! I paid for it!”
“Unlike you I’m a functioning, upstanding member of society. And you look like you’re cosplaying me.”
“Hey! I had this delectable color scheme of moulin rouge red before you were even swinging honey.”
A laugh bellowed into the space between them, a hearty jingle that found its way to the crevices of your ears and into the night, only to settle into a low giggle. Even with his mask only halfway up you can see the crinkle of his eyes, the slight crow feet forming under left dimple. Finger just slightly raised up to his lip, his other hand clutching onto his side.
Taking this as an opportunity, Wade dives for the box in Peter's lap. A mischievous smile is playfully displayed, the lips curved into a shape similar to the crescent moon. A rumble almost similar to a laugh escapes him, a rough sound that is akin to scraping the throat like sandpaper. Immediately Peter raises the box out of the way, and due to the sudden action, they end up stumbling on top of each other.
One hand raised above his head holding the takeout container, the other placed onto the ground for support. Wade’s knee is just slotted in between his legs, the kevlar texture of his thigh ruts against the smooth spandex of Peter’s suit, the red blending in with the blue in a blur of unity. Wades hand is right beside Peter’s head, holding onto high weight as his other one still attempts to reach for the raised box of chow mein. Peter almost applauds Wade’s sheer commitment to grab a bite of his chow mein if it didn’t border on sheer stupidity, but his thoughts were distracted as he was suddenly met with the blue eyes.
“Woah Spidey! Didn't know I’d be on top of you today, if I knew you’d be so eager to have a bite of me I’d have worn my pretty thong.”
“Get-”
But Peter couldn’t finish his sentence, for the only thing he could focus on was the thin line of the others lips. The steady breaths of Wades inhale and exhale. The way the light of New York illuminated his skin into something akin to a constellation of stars. And finally, his dusty blue eyes that rival the beauty of an ocean shore. It was as if his gaze knew all of him, knew his soul, his struggle, his everything. It was as if he was the only person that could understand him.
All Peter could see was Wade, Wade, Wade.
It was as if his world was being consumed by his very presence. But it all was brought back to the sight of his lips, good God his fucking lips, ghosting over words that would be a joke, all Peter could think of was:
“You’re beautiful…”
It was as if the world stopped breathing for them so they could only hear each other, every second melted onto the song of a heartbeat and flowed onto the lyric of a breath. They could only see each other.
Never in Wade’s life has he ever felt so… he can’t even name the feeling of what this is. It was if he gazed into the abyss of what had been his life and suddenly found color. It was red and blue and it wrapped all around him that it held a comfortable warmth around his heart. Like drinking soup in the cold, Canadian winter.
He would’ve thought what Peter said was a joke, but a part of him hoped it wasn’t. That he could have this one, wonderful thing that flips into the air and flies so spectacularly. This one thing that’s so wonderful and warm and so kind, this one thing that happens to be Spider-man.
He hoped his words were true.
Peter held his breath too late when he realized when his words left his lips. Suddenly he was hyper aware of his position, Wade's face still not too far from his and oh Lord above him how will he amazing Spider-man his way out of this one?
“I mean, I- uh, I mean you're beautiful, yeah, totally! Uhm- yeah that sounds convincing right? You’re beautiful in like a bro way you know? But that didn't sound like a bro way, uhm I-”
“Did you really mean it?”
The question took him aback, the desperation and the pleading blue eyes. And then Peter realized he couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t pretend that he didn't love the man before him. Pretend he didn’t love the way he smiled. The way his laugh bellows and seeps into the cracks and over takes all sound during a fight. His empathy disguised under a ruse of craziness. The way he could be selfish and be whom he wants.
He just couldn’t deny the truth that he loves Wade Wilson.
“Of course… You’re… Stunning. I mean all of you really. The way you fight it’s as if you’re those flying fish you know? Wait. I don’t think the metaphor makes exact sense. Your eyes! Yes, your eyes, they’re the most striking thing blue I’ve ever seen. They can’t leave my mind and I, oh God. I swear I’m usually so calm and collected and you know cause I’m Spider-man, and I promise I can flirt better! Yeah…”
Peter's rambles were almost an incoherent mess, but all that Wade could focus on was how Peter’s lips moved along with his words. The slightly plump curve of his cupid's bow which leads down onto the skin of his lip, the light pink color combined with little dry skin creasing onto it. He can almost see a small mole just right below it.
“Can I kiss you?”
Peters voice suddenly rang out, and when his voice reached his ear, blanketing its canal with a question whose tone was akin to velvet, did he hear it.
And then before he could even get the first syllable of a ‘Yes absou-fucking-loutely my good sire I’ve been dreaming about this kiss ever since we met’ he was met with lips onto his own.
It certainly wasn’t a kiss of chivalry, it was a kiss of grit and dirty desperation.
It was a kiss of survival, of need and want. It was a kiss that was perfect for the likes of them. Their lips melted into one another, Wade's hands both now fully on Peter's head, lifting it slightly up so he can lean in even deeper into the kiss. Their bodies combine into one as Peter abandons his pose on the ground and sits up halfway, his hands and arms tightly clung around the other.
This was a kiss of unity. Peter can feel the heat rising from his neck onto his cheeks and settling into a dizzyingly euphoric almost sweet feeling. It was as if all their body heat combined into one being and all that was left was a mass of warmth and love.
They kissed as if the world couldn’t hurt them, they kissed as if nothing can ever come in between them. They kiss as if nothing else in the entire universe would be right if they didn’t.
They couldn’t let go of each other, even when their lips were no longer touching. Heavy breaths and sped up heartbeats were a shared sound among them, but their foreheads were pressed against each other and the tips of their noses touched. It was hot and heavy, their eyes half lidded staring into each other, white lenses of the Spider-man mask staring back into the blue.
“Wow Spidey, you really know how to treat a man right huh?”
The statement earned a small smile from Peter, the dimples forming around it.
Suddenly, Peter's hand cupped Wade's face and his thumb brushed his cheek. He still had the same stupid smile, and all Wade could think about was how much more beautiful he could be under the mask. As if on cue, Peter's other hand grabbed the front of his mask and pulled it down, all the way until the full thing was off.
And he was even more beautiful than he imagined. Curly brown hair that clung to his forehead from sweat, the ringlets almost akin to a bush. His cheeks, white and still smiling, were a galaxy of freckles, its color dotting across his nose giving the illusion of deer spots. And finally, his eyes. They were this rich brown that were so sweet it was borderline chocolate. His eyes were kind, the type that when you see them it doesn’t leave you. It was as if he came out from a painting.
“Can’t believe you called me beautiful when you were hiding all that under a mask. I swear if you just flashed Doc Ock with that smile he’d probably quit crime, I know I would. Jesus, you look like something straight out of a Disney film, like Bambi.”
“Oh God no, not Bambi please.”
“Ah hah! New nickname to tease you with, I’ve hit the jackpot! I was just running out of variations for spider nicknames and I was almost desperate to start calling you red and blue.”
“Please,Wade. We just made out and I practically professed my love for you, at least call me by my name.”
“What is it?”
“My names-”
“Peter!”
A hand reached out into the abyss of the darkness, and it grabbed nothing. His chest was heaving, his tank top clung to him like a second skin and he could feel every single sweat beading down onto his skin. He was so close.
He could almost see him again.
Wade's hand ghosted over the gun in hand. He can feel the smooth metal ingrooves, the weight, the smell of a recently shot bullet. He can feel the skin mending itself, the familiar burn of the tear grounds him that he is indeed still real.
The way his skin knits itself back together, each cell, each strand, being sown up by this disgusting body he's bound to.
“AGH!”
A shout tore through the silences as he threw the gun into the wall, the sudden anger sinking down into the pit of sadness, as he crouched onto his knees and hugged them. He can feel it, that familiar tightening of his heart, the flare of his nostrils, the water in his eyes.
He can’t help but cry. He has no Peter left to remind him of happiness.
As he stares onto the wall, his eyes settle onto the gun on the floor. He stretches his arm outward to grab it, his fingers greedily finding the trigger.
As he sat down back onto the bed, hes reminded of all his previous attempts. The blood on the wall. The noose in the corner. The gun in his hand.
All to try to reach back to the memory of him.
He raises the gun onto his head, safety off. And then, he shoots.