Work Text:
“Pete, just take the shot.”
Johnny came a few inches short from sloshing the transparent violet liquid onto Peter’s brand-new sweater, and he would’ve if the brunette hadn’t taken a step back. He knew it was coming of course; his heightened reflexes didn’t just work on stray bullets and punches. Peter let out a small huff of air and pushed the shot back towards his blond companion.
“Not today, Storm, have that one on me.” Johnny didn’t look too offended. He just shrugged to himself and downed the shot with a little mumble of what might’ve been ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ but at this point Johnny was slurring pretty badly and Peter was probably mistaken. He gripped the sleeve of Johnny’s jacket with his thumb and index finger and pulled him gently through the throng of people in the crowded college bar. He pushed Johnny into a booth and slid in behind him, bumping thighs. He knows any minute now Johnny’s going to try to make a move on him, and Peter’s going to have to strongly decline, and may or may not have to web him to the bunk bed later on. Johnny kind of lost his standards after beer number seven so there had been more than one incident over the past year of living together, but Peter had grown smart and just took initiative before things could progress. He’d known Johnny for quite a few years now, through the Avengers, and rooming with a friend a little older was a lot nicer than rooming with a complete stranger, even if he tried to make advances on you after a few cocktails.
“Oh shit, man-“ Johnny suddenly slid under table, fumbling and knocking over a few empty shot glasses on the way down.
“You okay, buddy?” Peter smirked at Johnny and his weird antics, but he was genuinely confused.
“No.” Johnny peered over the edge of the table to the bar and pointed, “At the bar in the red hoodie, I owe ‘em money.” Peter began cleaning up the mess Johnny had made on the table. “He won’t leave me ‘lone, an’ I’m kinda scared of ‘em.”
Peter rolled his eyes, “Why are you scared of him?” He followed where Johnny had pointed and noticed the guy he was talking about. He was facing away, hood up, and leaning over the bar heavily, but Peter could still tell that he was bulky and wide, but he filled the hoodie he was wearing in ways that showed he was all muscle. “You’re THE Human Torch, Johnny. Yeah, that guy has 75lbs on you, easy, but he’s just a guy.”
Johnny began shaking his head wildly, “No! I owe him money because of a poker match at one of Logan’s parties, he’s a mutant, and he’s gonna kick my ass!” The blond was pretty much completely under the table at this point, legs bent uncomfortably to fit under it without touching the gum. Peter was in awe at the way Johnny was contorting his body in his current hammered state, but apparently seeing this mutant had sobered him up a bit.
“What’s a guy who’s friends with Logan doing at a college bar? Do you really owe him that much money that he’d come looking for you?” The guy got up to go to the washroom, but still didn’t turn to face their direction.
“To be honest, I don’t really remember. Hell, I don’t remember much of that night, but I do remember a very angry voicemail in the morning from Logan, and some Saw-worthy threats.”
“Is that Johnny Storm I hear?” Peter was sure he jumped for different reasons than Johnny at the deep, booming voice beside them that came out of nowhere. He turned quickly, eyes wide like a doe, and was met with the man that had been sitting at the bar. His face was somewhat obscured by the shadow cast on his face by the hood and the angle of the lights, but Peter could make out a distinct jawline and the shape of his eyes. “Johnny, it’s Wade! Wade Wilson, from Logey’s New Years party! How’s it going, bud?” Wade slapped him on the shoulder, and slipped into the booth beside Johnny.
Johnny slid back up into his seat, shaking like a leaf. “H-hey, Wade.” He stammered, “What brings you here?”
Wade raised a hand to signal a waitress, and that’s when Peter noticed it; his hand was covered in scars, deep and shallow, inflamed and dull. Peter figured that he was probably covered in them, and that’s why he had his hood up. “I’m here to see Terry, actually, I just thought I’d come check out this place beforehand, I had some time to kill.”
Johnny looked visibly more relaxed, but he was still on-edge. “So I take it you’re still together?”
“Nah-“ Wade shook his head, “Terry’s got lots of things on her mind right now. Between work, and Jamie, and all that shit.” He shrugged, “We’re still close, but we just both knew it wasn’t working.” The waitress dropped a beer on the table beside him, and he said a quick thanks.
Johnny exhaled deeply, “Woah, man, I thought you were still mad about that money. I was sure I was a goner.”
Wade paused bringing his beer to his lips, “Money?”
Torch’s mouth gaped like a fish, “The money I owed you… from that poker game…”
“Oh my god, Torch,” Wade suddenly burst out into whole-body laughter, and it startled Peter yet again. “Johnny, that game was you, Logan, myself, and Tony Stark. You owed Tony Stark a whole five-hundred dollars, do you think he cares?” Johnny began chuckling to himself again, suddenly losing his sobriety.
“Whatta relief, man…”
“Anywhooooo, speaking of me being single, who are you, pretty?” Wade shot Peter a toothy grin from under his hood, making Peter blush wildly.
“This is my pal, Petey.”
Peter elbowed Johnny lightly, “Peter, actually, Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you.” Peter tried to keep his composure, but it was extremely hard considering that this was the first time in a while that anybody decent had hit on him.
Wade pushed his hood back, letting Peter see the rest of his face. Sure enough his skin was covered in scars, almost like a burn victim, and his head was completely bald. His eyes shone with mischief, and he stuck out a big hand for Peter to shake. “Wade Winston Wilson. You go to school here? I couldn’t imagine anybody would willingly spend their time with this lil’ shit if they weren’t forced to.”
Peter giggled, and suddenly Wade beamed at him even more. Peter felt like he was staring at the sun; a big, muscly, very attractive sun. “He did kind of force me to come, but we’re roommates-“ He pulled Johnny back into his seat by the back of his collar as he began slipping under the table again, “And childhood friends.” He added.
“C’mon, you’re definitely not the same age as Stormy! You’ve gotta be, what, sixteen? Seventeen? How’d you even get in here?” Wade squinted, like he was suspicious.
“I know, but really I’m nineteen. He’s a year older.” He pulled out his I.D. and flashed it at Wade, who nodded in response.
“Sorry, you’ve just got the whole twink thing goin’ on, and you being legal just sounded too good to be true.” That same glint in Wade’s eyes was back, and Peter’s blush as well.
“Hey!” Johnny interjected, pointing a finger accusingly at Wade, “You can’t hit on my friends, bucko, Petey’s a sensitive dude, an’ yer’ kind of a prick.”
Wade fake-swooned, “Oh, baby, you really know how to make a girly feel special!” Wade flipped open his phone, and swore under his breath. “It was great seein’ you guys, but I’ve gotta jet. I’m late to pick Terry up from work. Nice to meet you, Petey!” He quickly dropped a few bills on the table for his beer, and hurried out the door. Peter grabbed them and opened his own wallet, but then realized Wade had left more than enough, and it would cover all of their drinks. He placed the bills back on the table when he noticed a little piece of paper stuck between them, and he picked it up.
Call me sometime!
~Wade xoxo
It had a number on the back, scribbled messily in crayon, but Peter could still make out what it said. How could Johnny have been so scared of a guy as sweet as Wade? He went to help Johnny out of the booth, an arm lain lazily across his shoulder for support. Even though the walk was short and the weather was beautiful, he was hopeful to get home soon. Johnny’s breath reeked of booze, but Peter just tried to ignore it. He continually pushed Johnny’s face away from his own when he tried to kiss him, but finally they made it home. Peter threw Johnny onto the bottom bunk, that was usually his, but he really didn’t need to wake up to throw up on his face or Johnny falling off the top bunk.
The blond rolled over as Peter began cleaning up the cluttered room, throwing Johnny’s discarded clothing into the hamper.
“Y’know, Petey-“ Johnny was slurring even worse now and Peter couldn’t help but think that a normal person shouldn’t be able to understand his incoherent babble, “You should call Wadey. He’s one coooool duuuuuuuudddeee. Actually, no. Hizzza bad influence.” He slurred through influence so bad that it was inarticulate. Johnny giggled as Peter pulled the covers over him. “Plus you’ve been a real buzz kill since Felicia and you broke up.”
Peter turned off the light, and pulled off his jeans. “That’s enough, big guy, we’ll talk about it more when you’re capable of forming a coherent sentence.” He climbed into the top bunk and pulled out his phone, putting the number on the piece of paper into his phone. Maybe one day he’d even get the courage to phone him, but Peter would ask Johnny more in the morning.
~~~
Peter hadn’t been one for eavesdropping, really, but there were times where it just… happened.
He’d planned on getting into the Avengers mansion, stealing some coffee, and heading out before anybody had noticed. He had done this before, but suddenly it felt wrong. It felt like he was villain in a place he had always felt at home.
“Move over, old man!” Peter stretched back against the island counter and stared at the surprising sight before him. Pietro and Clint were lying on the couch together, Petrio’s head lying in the archer’s lap, long legs sprawled across and down the side of the sofa, wearing nothing but jogging pants. “How am I supposed to get comfortable when your fat ass is taking up the entire couch?” The accented voice was unmistakable, and Peter cursed himself for not expecting any of the heroes to be up this early. He scooted across the island counter, trying to ignore the bickering from the other side of the room. Not paying enough attention, he knocked the full coffee mug off the table.
Suddenly Pietro was at his side, coffee mug in hand, and not a single drop spilt.
“Did you drop something?”
Peter was extremely happy he was wearing his mask, because he could feel a hot blush running across his face. “I-I’m-“
“Not going to tell anybody, Spidey. We haven’t told anybody yet, so we’d like it if you could keep your mouth shut.” Clint interrupted. He stood up from the couch and grabbed some coffee of his own. “You might as well stay for breakfast, everybody should be up soon.” Peter just nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. Clint stood from the couch and sat in the stool beside the counter. He took the mug from Pietro and kissed him lightly on the cheek, ignoring his slightly offended look. Pietro began turning burners in the kitchen and pulling out pans from the cupboards, obviously preparing breakfast.
“Does Wanda know?” Peter didn’t feel right talking about her behind her back. She could sense when he was lying, and her being in the room set him on edge.
“I suspect she does.” Pietro said over his shoulder, pouring oil into a pan. “But she would not say anything, too polite.” Peter nodded and poured himself another cup of coffee. He lifted up his mask just above his nose and inhaled deeply. Just as he was about to take a sip, a flash of pale skin and grey whipped by, and suddenly Pietro was leaning against the counter holding the mug.
“C’mon! I literally just came here for coffee! Is that too much to ask?”
“Aw, Spidey, you didn’t come because you missed us?” Tony sounded slightly hung-over, but when wasn’t he? He poured the last of the coffee into a Captain America mug and handed the empty pot to the only masked hero in the room. “You want some, you make some.”
Peter gritted his teeth, but stood up anyway. He began the process of making coffee, Pietro manoeuvring around him with ease, and by the time he had finished many of the other Avengers had made their way into the kitchen.
“You still where your mask here, kid? It’s been years and you still don’t trust us?” Steve yawned and plucked the red mug out of Peter’s grasp that he had been clinging onto for dear life.
“I have people to protect,” he spat through his teeth, “and apparently coffee to protect as well.” He poured himself another cup right as Matt walked through the door. It was weird not seeing the vigilante in his suit or in his attorney’s attire, but Peter guessed that if he stuck around the Avengers more often than this sight wouldn’t be very rare. His chest was wide and chiselled, and that loose sweater hung off of him in all the right places and made his breath hitch. Matt shot him a smile as he put on his glasses, like he knew that Peter was admiring him. In fact, he probably did.
“Is that coffee, Web-head?” Peter huffed loudly and pushed the cup into the lawyer’s chest without complaint, to save him from further embarrassment.
“’Morning, Matty.” Peter grumbled, giving up on the coffee. He sank into one of the chairs again, while Clint set out plates and Pietro filled them. Matt took the spot to his left, and Scott took the spot to his right. Matt and Peter had always been close, small town vigilantes in a room with large-scale heroes, and Scott seemed to gravitate towards Peter whenever they’d been in each other’s vicinity (“Us bug guys gotta stick together, y’know?”).
Peter began absent-mindedly playing with his food, cutting up his pancakes, and separating them from the sausage. He was just about to raise some scrambled egg to his mouth when Tony spoke again.
“So, ‘Matty’,” he put emphasis on the nickname, “do you know who the real Spider-Man is?” Natasha elbowed Tony in the shoulder, “Ow! What was that for?”
Matt finished swallowing the bit of bacon he had been chewing and answered. “Yeah, Tony, I do. If you really want to know so bad, why don’t you ask JARVIS?” he kept his cool as always, and Peter was grateful.
“Cause I wanna give web-head the choice to tell me. If he wants to tell me, I’ll let him, but I just think it’s interesting that he told you first before any of us.”
Logan raised a hand. “I know who he is.” He said around his mouthful of pancakes. Tony’s hands shot up in exasperation and he shot Peter a look.
“You let ‘Bub’ know before me? I’m hurt, Spidey, really.” Peter slammed his hands at the table when Natasha had joined in on the bullying, which was the last straw.
“Enough, guys! I love you a lot, obviously, but there are certain members of this group I’ve known longer. Logan knew my parents, Matty knew me when I was just starting out as Spider-Man. I’m a secretive person, we get it, now can we move on?!” Everybody’s eyes widened at the young hero’s sudden outburst, but nodded silently. “By the way, Logan, I met a friend of yours yesterday when I was at Danver’s Pub with Johnny.”
“I don’t have friends, bub.”
“Yeah, anyway,” Peter rolled his eyes, “his name was Wade Wilson, he gave me his number. He’s in town for Syrin, though, not-“
Suddenly, time stopped, and in unison just about everybody at the table dropped their utensils and shouted ‘NO!’ at the top of their lungs, cutting Peter off.
“Wow, everybody, tell me how you really feel.”
“Wilson is bad news, bub, really. You should stay out of his business.” Logan calmed down slightly and continued to nurse his morning beer.
“Not only that, but if he’s in town I think I should go pay him a visit. You mentioned Syrin? Syrin from X-Factor?”
Peter put a hand out to stop Tony as he stood up, “Hey, hey, hey, what’s so bad about this Wade guy? He was a total gentleman to Johnny and I.”
Tony stopped moving, but the Iron Man suit still continued to forge itself to his body.
“Mr. Murdock, would you be so kind as to tell me on a scale from 1-10 how twinkish is our little Spider-Man here?”
“Probably a solid eight-and-a-half.” Peter pushed Matt in defense, and shot him a WTF look.
“Exactly! Spidey, stay away from Deadpool. He’ll be all over you, and it won’t be pretty for anybody.” Tony waved a small goodbye over his shoulder as his face-plate came into place and he shot out the open window of the mansion.
Peter couldn’t help but curse himself for not making the connection sooner.
~~~
[Terry wouldn’t be very happy with us.]
{Terry isn’t happy with us anyway.}
[Taking a job while we’re here will definitely not help our case.]
“Will you two shut up?” Wade yelled over the boxes angrily. He cocked his gun and peered down the scope, his target right on sight. This was a hefty wage, seven digits from a spontaneous call, and Wade was confident he’d get the job done quick and clean. He put two pounds on the trigger, when all of the sudden the gun was pulled from his hands.
“Yeah, I’ll be having none of that.” Wade didn’t have to turn around to know it was Spider-Man, and if had been anybody else he’d be rightfully pissed.
“Well if it isn’t my favourite NY native! Hi, baby boy. How’s it hangin’?” Peter rolled his eyes and sunk down beside Deadpool, who rolled over onto his side, supporting his head with his hand, elbow on the ground.
“As much as I’d love to sit here and make puns with you, Deadpool, that’s not why I came.” He emptied the bullets from the merc’s gun over the edge of the building and handed it over to him. “Peter Parker told me that he… came into contact with you. The Avengers also know, and they’re not too happy with you.” Spidey always took note of the way his Spidey-Sense never picked up around Deadpool, not once. He was too comfortable around the older man for his own good.
“I know.” Deadpool sat up and crossed his legs like a kindergartener. “Peter takes photos of you for the papers, right?” Peter nodded, “Should’ve made the connection. Iron Ass came to talk to me already. ‘You’re a danger to yourself and everybody in New York!’ and all that jazz.” Peter couldn’t help but notice that Wade looked genuinely sad. He couldn’t really recall a time where he had seen Wade like that; he was always so animated and energetic.
“Those were not my words!” Spider-Man defended, resting a gentle hand on Wade’s shoulder, but that seemed to make him more tense. “I just want you to know Peter’s not Avenger’s property. Don’t let Tony scare you off, he really doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and Peter would probably love to hang out with you!” Wade didn’t look up to meet his eyes, and that was starting to worry Peter. “Can I ask why Peter?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” The merc lifted his mask up so Peter could see the lower half of his face. “but at his point I don’t really have anything to lose, man! I saw Peter from across the bar and his beauty just kind of overwhelmed me. He’s so pretty, Spidey, real pretty. I thought, even if he rejects me it’s not like I’m gonna take it to heart? If somebody as ugly as me hit on me I’d turn them down, too.” The taller man’s voice was full of self-deprecation, and that really wasn’t sitting well with Peter. Sure his skin wasn’t the most flattering, but so is a mole, or a crooked nose, or a birth-mark but they make people interesting.
“Hey!” Peter slapped his hand away before he could cover his mouth back up, “You’re not ugly, and Peter knows that too! He thought you were very pretty.” The merc was scarily quiet for a second, and finally his eyes met Peter’s through the mask. Never before had he been so serious and level-headed.
“Spidey?”
“Yeah, Wade?”
“Are you Peter Parker?”
The brunette couldn’t even process what was happening before he nodded slowly.
“H-How did you know?”
“Your voice,” He smirked, “and I’d recognize that ass from a mile away, honey.”
Peter just nodded again, slowly, then he laughed. He laughed heartily, and it scared Wade for a second. He pulled off his mask and stared into the eyes of Wade’s mask. “I wasn’t lying y’know, I think you’re very pretty.” Wade’s face dropped slightly, “In a very masculine kinda way! You know-“ He was cut off by Wade embracing him tightly.
“There’s obviously something wrong with you but I’m gonna ignore that right now because Spider-Man just called me pretty- scratch that; Peter Parker just called me pretty.” Peter grinned widely and returned the embrace, a hand on the back of Wade’s head. “The Avengers are going to kill me.”
“They’ll kill me first.” Peter corrected, pulling away. He put a hand up to Wade’s mask, preparing to pull it completely off but the merc flinched violently.
“I don’t want to scare you away.”
“I’ve seen your face before. I thought you were pretty, remember?” Wade just gave him a half-hearted smirk and another small nod before he took the rest of the mask off. “I didn’t get to see your eyes in the bar,” he ran a thumb across his lower lip and held his jaw tenderly, “they’re a very pretty blue.”
Peter leaned in so their lips were near centimetres apart, obviously waiting for Wade to continue. He huffed loudly against the smaller mans lips, and surged forward. Peter felt like he was fifteen again, at one of Harry’s house parties, hiding in a closet with Gwen, or MJ, or Harry himself, or super drunken Danny that one time. Except this wasn’t really a heat-of-the-moment, ‘my parents might walk in at any moment’ kind of kiss, it was passion. It was one of the greatest experiences that Peter had never felt before. Wade’s lips were a different feeling altogether, and Wade was just relishing in human contact that wasn’t his own for once. He leaned Peter back so he was lying on the roof of the building; Wade on top of him and straddling his hips.
Peter’s delicate hands softly came to rest on the back of Wade’s barren head, and Wade’s rested just at his hip and above his head. They pulled away for a breath, and when they continued Wade licked Peter’s lips softly. The younger of the two gasped slightly at the intrusion, but quickly melted into the feeling.
Finally, Peter gently pushed him away. “Gear down, big-rig, let’s not get too excited just yet.”
Wade grinned toothily against swollen lips, “But we were just gettin’ to the good part!”
Peter patted his face lightly, “Maybe next time, heart-breaker.” He sat up and gave Wade another kiss before slipping out from under him and throwing his mask back on. “I’ll text you later so you have my number.” He stepped onto the edge of the building and turned back to the other.
“G’night.” He slipped off into the open air, swallowed up by the setting sun.
Wade reached up to touch his lips through his gloved hand. “Yeah.” he stared off into the direction Peter had left, “’Night, Peter.”