Wade Wilson is a selfish man.
He knows this, and for the most part, it doesn't bother him one jot. (Whatever a 'jot' is.)
For the most part.
It doesn't bother him that he does deeply questionable things for money – hell, if he doesn't someone else will, right? It doesn't bother him that people think he's a big ol' heaping bucket of crazy with an ugly smartass mouth. It doesn't even bother him that he never can get a break – that even his treacherous little boxes don't like him and that the world would probably be way better off without his hot cancerous ass residing on it. Really, it doesn't. Much.
It bothers Peter though. And because Wade is a selfish selfish man, he can't let that stand. Because Peter is...Peter. Peter gets him; gets why he talks too damn much because otherwise those thoughts just fester in his brain forever, gets the constant pop-culture references (they spent almost two hours arguing over Bond vs Kirk before the waitress threw them out of the diner at 1am), gets how a good fight makes the world so breathtakingly clear and simple and beautiful. He gets it all, and he always takes Wade's bullshit and throws it back at him twice as hard. Peter is not afraid.
But Wade is selfish, and he's going to ruin Peter, he can feel it in his gut. Wade is not a hero, someone Peter can admire or even trust that much. He's not the pretty redheaded girl who should capture Spidey's ticker with a carefree smile and a gentle touch. He's Deadpool. And he's a mess. But Peter puts up with it all for some unknown reason and Wade doesn't dare question it, just greedily snatches up every moment they have together, flirts with the flickering illusion of hope that Peter creates in him but waits. He waits for the penny to drop and the day that Peter finally realises he's fucking a monster.
Just let it be tomorrow, he pleads at deaf ears each morning. Tomorrow.
Peter Parker is a selfish man.
He must be, because otherwise he would have let Wade go a long time ago. But the thing is? He just can't. He still can't quite describe whatever this thing they have together is, but whatever it may be, it has the alarming effect of making Peter stupidly happy. Clearly he must be doing something wrong, because the words 'happy stable relationship' and 'Peter Parker' haven't been near each other in years. They haven't even exchanged an obligatory Christmas card.
It's unnerving, and maybe it's really just another mask between them.
Peter is selfish because he can't possibly be what Wade wants or needs. Wade deserves someone who can really help him, not just a nerdy guy with the weight of the world on his shoulders and one too many quips about guys with fishbowls on their heads who're constantly trying to tear his world apart. He should be with someone with a little more patience, gentler even, someone who doesn't feel that hot little lead ball thumping against their insides whenever someone gets hurt. Who isn't ashamed to admit that they're secretly glad of the miraculous healing factor of Wade's, because it means he's one less potential body on a slab to worry about. Who still worries anyway, just because.
They are so utterly alike yet not that it sometimes makes Peter feel dizzy. It's too easy to talk about everything and nothing with Wade. They get louder when put together, insults and innuendos traded quicker than stock in Wall Street. People tell him that Wade's a terrible influence, but the truth is, Peter can finally let go, knowing Wade can take it. Does that make their relationship abusive? Peter isn't entirely certain. He only knows that he smiles more, even feels strangely more relaxed with him, because he knows to expect weird chaos from Wade, and that's actually okay. It's kind've where he lives.
Is that really enough? The question raises its head again and Peter swallows it down like a spoon full of castor oil before the taste of it starts to cling to his insides.
So Peter stays selfish for now, holds on for dear life and ignores the oncoming storm on the horizon. He wonders if Wade will snap out of it, shakes his head and wonder what the hell he was ever doing with this silly kid who never knows when it's well past his time to give up. Maybe one day Peter will return to a silent apartment because he never gave Wade a good enough reason to stay.
Tomorrow, Peter promises himself, crossing his fingers. Maybe he'll learn to let go tomorrow.