Work Text:
Peter was on the couch of the studio apartment, flipping through the pages of the biophysics textbook sitting in his lap. He turned to grab the notebook laying beside him, sliding a pencil out from behind his ear to add on to the heap of scribbled pages. In that moment, his senses spiked for a millisecond just before settling into a comfortably familiar hum.
Peter looked towards the far end of the couch where there was a beat down window leading to the fire escape. Just then, that same window creaked open and out popped the masked head of a wild Deadpool.
“Honey, I’m home!” Deadpool exclaimed theatrically. The red and black leather of his mask barely contained the toothy grin hiding beneath it.
Peter could practically hear that smile in a dark, crowded room. Sometimes he chalked it up to his enhanced spider-senses, but he knew it was the latter. He was a sap who loved his boyfriend deeply. Plus, Wade being nearly incapable of keeping quiet for very long sure helped.
“Hey, baby boy,” Wade pulled his mask up to his nose as he bent at the waist to grace a soft peck on said baby boy’s cheek, to which Peter leaned into gratefully. “Still working hard, huh?” He asked as he walked a few feet away to drop his weapons on the floor against their shared workstation.
On the surface of the workstation were a few of Spider-Man’s incomplete gadgets Peter had been tinkering with on and off, frayed wires and tools littered about. Littered amongst them were a number of Wade's various maintenance products and additional ammunition for Deadpool’s assortment of firearms.
Peter huffed, “yeah, still at it.” He ran a hand through his untamed hair. “Patrol went well?” He inquired, to which Wade nodded to answer. “Thanks again for taking care of things today without Spider-Man, I really needed to catch up on these readings. I’ll be back to patrolling with you tonight, I promise.”
Wade chortled “don’t you worry your pretty li’l head about it, sweet cheeks. It was a breeze! Nothing your friendly neighbourhood Deadpool couldn’t handle!” He waltzed back towards the couch to pinch one of Peter’s cheeks between his fingers. “Easy peasy, spidey squeezey.”
Peter smiled lazily as he looked up at Wade, pushing his books aside for a moment. “C’mere,” he grinned as he reached for the hand retreating from his face and pulled it close with a strong tug. Wade tripped over his combat boots he hadn’t taken off yet, still in full Deadpool attire as he tumbled awkwardly on top of Peter. “Thank you, Wade,” he repeated with emphasis, pulling the mask completely off of his boyfriend’s face before showering him in smooches. Peter’s hands cradled the back of Wade’s bald head before laying a firm but lingering kiss against his lips.
Wade laughed breathily “down, boy” before pressing one more kiss against Peter’s lips. “Careful now or you’ll have to tell that professor of yours that your boyfriend ate your homework,” he grinned mischievously. “Just won’t be the only thing he ate.”
“Wade,“ Peter said with a mock sternness before apologizing, “not just yet. I’m sorry, I’m almost-“
“I know, I know! I’ll be a good boy. I’ll sit, I’ll stay,” Wade promised with a silly salute as he stood tall. “Throw me a bone later, won’t ya?”
“I’ll consider it,” Peter answered playfully before returning to his readings.
Wade chuckled as he ruffled his boyfriend’s hair, “yeah, you will,” before moving to grab his weapons leaning against the table nearby. Wade enjoyed the excuse of working alongside each other as they completed their own individual tasks. It also didn’t hurt to get some errands checked off their lists to boot.
Wade pulled a chair out to take a seat before reaching out for his beloved katanas, Bea and Arthur, laying one on the cluttered surface. Bright, blue eyes trained on the blade remaining in his hand, a hairless brow furrowed in focus. He took his sweet time in wiping Bea from guard to tip with a raggedy cloth until she was ready to powder her nose alongside a finishing touch of oil. Then, he reached for Arthur to provide her with the same tender treatment.
Once he had finished up with his lovely ladies, he reached back down to grab his pair of desert eagle pistols. As he worked, his gaze shifted to the couch where Peter was still curled up with his school work, then to the edge of the work desk where there sat a fossil of a radio.
Wade glanced over at Peter again, his face nuzzled into another textbook before peeking over the top to flash a beaming smile his way.
A silent question was asked as their eyes met, Wade’s fingers hovering over the radio. Peter nodded his approval before Wade turned it on. He fiddled with the knob for a minute, finally settling on a station playing Nat King Cole.
“L is for the way you look at me,” Wade hummed to the tune as he wiped off the grime covering one of his pistols. “O is for the only one I see.”
Peter jotted down a few more notes before he placed his notebook on the empty cushion beside him, walking over to where Wade worked. Peter leaned his chest against the back of his chair, chin resting atop his lover’s scarred scalp.
“V is very, very extraordinary,” Wade sang enthusiastically as he worked before craning his neck to look into the other man’s big, brown eyes.
“See something you like, Petey pie?” Wade asked teasingly before wiggling his hairless eyebrows. “Or are you finally nerded out for the night and ready to throw me that bo-”
Peter cupped his hand over one of Wade’s cheeks, “in a minute.” Wade sported a dramatic frown, but leaned into the touch of his lover’s calloused palm anyways. “But, first…”
“But, first?” Wade asked, full of anticipation. “Or butt first? I can never tell without those darn subtitles on…”
Peter rolled his eyes as his partner continued to ramble, pulling the chair he was seated on out from under the desk with ease. He reached out a hand to Wade, nodding his head over his shoulder as he casually swayed to the rhythm of the tune.
“Oh ho ho, no you don’t!” Wade gifted Peter’s ears with a hearty laugh to rival the melody in the air. As if it had a chance against the very melody that pumped the blood through his heart. “Petey, I can’t dance for shit!” Wade admitted weakly with a smile, turning away shyly.
“E is even more than anyone that you adore can,” the radio chanted.
“Who says I can?” Peter tilted his head in that way that Wade loved, giving him his sweetest doe eyed expression as he reached his hand out further. “Humour me, won’t you, Mr. Wilson?”
Wade paused to consider, a blush creeping from under his scarred skin. “Fineee!” he groaned with a massive eye roll, putting his gun down to rest as he got off his chair. “Mr. Sweet Talker over here, huh? Chad Michael Murray can eat his heart out…” he muttered with faux annoyance as he finally took Peter’s hand. He let himself be led to the middle of the room before loosely slipping his arms around the slightly shorter man’s waist.
“Well, since you’re dying to find out, I have a confession to make,” Wade made a sullen face. “Y’know how most people have been cursed with two left feet. Me? Sob story origins be damned, I got sixty-nine of ‘em.” He paused, his grin widening “hehe, sixty-nine…”
“That was a really fucking lame joke, Wade. Even for you, man.” Peter rolled his eyes, a look of endearment glazed over them as he grinned.
“Hey! Some jokes never get old. The day I stop giggling over tits, dicks and balls is the day my cancer kills me” he joked morbidly. “Plus, what can I say? My head gets especially fuzzy around a particular pretty twunk who can bench a dozen of me like a feather. Sure makes a guy feel like the prettiest girl at the party.” Wade sent a wink Peter’s way, “ain’t that right, sweetums?”
Wade looked up, expecting to see flushed skin, but was met with Peter’s silent admiration instead. “Love is all that I can give to you.”
Peter’s lips had curled into a soft smile, his eyes attempting to meet Wade’s. Wade juvenile humour was long gone as hesitated to keep eye contact, following Peter’s lead closely as they danced.
“You’re doing just fine, babe,” Peter affirmed gently. His gaze was trained on catching his lover’s as he stroked a thumb against the taller man’s shoulder. Wade looked down at his feet shyly, attempting to avoid the other man’s honest look of love that followed the words.
Peter knew Wade struggled with intimate moments like these just as much as Peter did. They took turns, stitching and kissing each other's metaphorical wounds just as much as they did the literal ones. He knew Wade had a hard time with being so emotionally and physically vulnerable with nowhere to hide from Peter. Even after all that they had been through together, Wade was still incredibly insecure and doubted the webslinger’s attraction to and faith in him. Even after all this time, Peter never got tired of carefully tending to all of those insecurities.
“Hey Petey, you mind if we close the curtains?” Wade asked, his voice shrinking with every word.
The exposed, severely scarred skin of Wade's face and neck glowed a soft pink in the light of the setting sun. So pretty, Peter thought to himself. Peter couldn’t express how thankful he was to the universe that he got to see this side of Wade. The world got the viciously intimidating, sexually crude retired mercenary, and Peter got this.
“Don’t wanna scare the kids just yet, a li’l too early in the year for Halloween. Don’t ya think?” Wade shrunk further into himself as he shifted his focus uncomfortably. Not an easy feat for such a unit of a man.
"Love is more than just a game for two,” Peter leaned in close to whisper into the shell of Wade’s ear. “Two in love can make it.”
“Take my heart and please don't break it,” Wade mumbled back halfheartedly, his words muffled as his face buried itself into the crook of Peter’s neck. Peter’s heart broke a little, as it often did when he got to experience such raw aspects of Wade. That was, when Wade allowed it. Peter Parker had come to learn of an incredibly low self-esteem hidden underneath that obnoxious exterior of raunchy commentary and wisecracking buffoonery Spider-Man had grown familiar with.
But, Peter Parker quickly discovered something Spider-Man had never known. Despite Deadpool’s seemingly open demeanour, Spider-Man wasn’t the only one who had built tall, endless walls around his heart. Wade constantly carried a fear that any love he had received was one of his mind’s many illusions, especially when it came from Peter.
That doubt had been carried close to Wade's chest long before they had met. It was carried over when they had bumped into each other patrolling the streets, soon teaming up together on missions. Their professional partnership gradually budded into a genuine friendship. That doubt grew unbearably loud as they had eventually fallen deeply into a passionate love affair.
Even after a few years of being in a committed romantic relationship, they still often struggled with learning to accept love from others just as much as from each other. Wade still had so much to learn about Peter, and Peter was regularly reminded that he himself still had so much to learn about Wade.
Peter knew this because Wade generally tried limiting sharing those thoughts privately with the voices occupying his head. It would occur most when he was certain that Peter was fast asleep or was beyond his enhanced earshot.
There was a particular incident that often came to Peter’s mind. Early in their relationship, he had heard wailing one night while swinging home from a solo patrol.
Peter rushed into the apartment to see what had happened, heart stuck in his throat as his mind flipped through every possible scenario it could come up with. He didn’t know what to expect when he opened their bedroom door, but it definitely wasn’t that.
Wade was sobbing on the floor, scratching at his skin in frustration. His blunt nails were aggressively digging into his skin, blood trickling from fresh wounds for mere seconds before stitching themselves together. Peter stepped closer cautiously, carefully observing Wade for any indication that his presence was unwelcome.
That was until Wade looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. Peter couldn’t help falling to his knees to trap him in a powerful embrace.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours before Wade finally broke the silence. The only words he uttered once he had calmed down enough were “please…please, stop doing this to me. I can’t, I can’t do this again.”
Wade whimpered pathetically, “it hurts, it hurts so much.” Wade wept harder, “please, don’t do this…not again.”
“God, you’re so beautiful, Pete,” Wade’s voice broke, cracking at the edges. “Inside and out, you’re a hero, webs. I’m not like that, I’m not like you. I don't get to be a good guy,” he admitted. “Ugly mugs like mine never get the girl. I already lost Ness once. I can’t lose you too, Peter.” Wade shook his head with fever, “I can’t.”
Peter knew who Wade and his internal dialogue were talking about. The shapeshifting anti-hero Spider-Man had known as Copycat, and the deceased mutant woman Wade had loved named Venessa. He spoke about her a few times in passing, managing to keep those conversations as surface level as possible.
It was too painful for Wade to delve deep, and if anyone could understand that grief; it was Peter. He didn’t think he would ever stop mourning Gwen, and he was scared to try again too. But he loved Wade, and he wanted to try loving him in spite of their fear. He never wanted to stop trying. He just hoped that they could both learn to navigate that grief. One day, he thought as he had held Wade tighter against himself.
After that incident, Peter always tried to prove the voices inside Wade’s mind wrong. They argued, of course, but that didn’t deter him. He tried to convince them that Wade was worthy of his love and so much more, because he genuinely believed that. He had always believed that, even back when Wade was still actively a merc for money. Peter knew there was a good man in there, despite the death and decay shrouding him. He would always believe that. In Peter’s eyes, that would never change. No one was ever beyond redemption, especially not the man he loved.
“Love was made for me and you,” Peter sang softly. Putting his weight on his toes, he kissed Wade’s forehead. He graced another onto both of his cheeks, followed by his chin, before leaving a final one on the tip of his nose.
“Love was made for me and you…” the words repeated until the music soon faded into the background as the two men danced together harmoniously into the evening.