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The Body Remembers When the Mind Forgets

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Wade was still healing when he woke, which was massively inconvenient because the thing in pieces this time was his head. He could feel his brain and skull regrowing, working out the tinier bits of debris he was splayed across that were stuck in the gore before his bones could close around them.

The sun was bright and hot and nearly boiling him alive in his suit, and the sky cloudless above him, and he let himself breathe deep and relax in the sudden silence of his mind. The only interruption to his peace was a painfully strong urge to sink both his teeth and his cock into something, immediately, which he decided to be the first thing he remedied as soon as he was whole again. He only got a few minutes of reprieve before the healing completed and brought the voices back.

[Man, you should go for some poon. Or eight. Eight poon.]

{Nah, food first. Chimichangas specifically. Like, twenty-two. And some tacos. And some nachos. Maybe a burrito.}

"Take two and call me in the morning," Wade groaned as he sat up and surveyed his suit, ripped all to hell with his mask disintegrated, and the utter ruin of the building surrounding his previously unalive corpse.

"Head shot, eh? Bet you didn't count on the bombs I planted before you got me, did ya," he snickered as he pulled another mask out of his dedicated mask pouch. "Deadpool's da bomb wit' da bombs da bang a dang diggy diggy diggy said the boogy said up jump the boogy," he sang as he skipped his way out of the rubble.

"Restock."

{Refood.}

[Rewhore.]


Restocking went as could be as expected. A little fighting, a little blood, and a little flirting, and Wade was full up on ammo for his guns and his Mary Poppins pouch was renewed on its grenades and bombs.

Refooding went great. The only Mexican joint he'd found in South Africa so far was still open, and stayed that way until he was full. His last client had paid in rands, and he tossed the one mom-looking lady a stack of twenties before he left, waving off the near-hysteric "Dankie! Dankie!"s as he walked out the front door.

Rewhoring went terrible. His jaw ached like he needed to sink his teeth into skin (in a sexy way, not a cannibal way), and his dick ached like he was going into rut. But no matter what prostitute - boy or girl, alpha or beta or omega - he sniffed as he ambled past, they all smelled terrible. Well, not terrible, they smelled okay, but they weren't right. And it wasn't just that one block. He tried every street in the red light district with the same result.

By the time he was breaking back into his motel room an hour later (because he was always losing the motel keys), Wade was a Bob-omb of sexual frustration. The sensation was heightened by the unshakable feeling that something was missing. Which was absurd because a quick check proved that he had all his limbs, he was still wearing his suit and spare mask, all of his weapons and unused ammo were accounted for (more or less), his phone and money were pouched up, and if he was missing any organs, his healing would take care of that. Nothing was missing.

Nothing was missing, but something was wrong.

It wasn't until he got in the shower that he realized that his knot was half-swollen and his fangs were extended, like he was actually going into rut. Which was impossible. Ever since Weapon X, anyway. He might forget a lot of things, but that was the kind of thing Wade was fairly certain he'd remember, faulty memory or not.

The feelings of missing and wrongness followed him through one out-of-realm mission, two off-world ones, and thirty-four across Earth. Oh, and seven suicides, all of which he went through with just to get a breather from the ever-building strain of constant need and constant anger from the way he couldn't even bear the thought of sticking his dick or his fangs in anyone long enough to get them to chill the fuck out. When even the boxes started going nuts, Wade decided, on a whim, like all of his decisions, to enact a full-frontal assault on a Hydra base, just to relieve the tension and aggression.

No exact reason why a Hydra base, other than the fact that they were generally shitty people who kept not hiring him for all the cool jobs because they had their pet cyborg that Cap spent two movies rescuing. Oh and there was a like a million of them (Hydra agents that is, not cyborg assassins) so there was plenty to kill. Which turned out to be more fun than he'd expected because all that killing kept exciting and sating his bloodlust in turns which turned out to calm his stupid and unending almost-rut just the tiniest bit. And okay yeah fine maybe it was the station Bob was stationed at so he got to kidnap the guy for some quality bro time for a week or two before he got bored of Bob (Bob was a boring guy and teasing him only provided so much entertainment) and dumped him somewhere (Djibouti maybe?).

As much fun as he had throughout the whole mini-vacay, what with the killing spree and more Bob-time than it turned out he could handle, it only made things worse. He felt perpetually on the edge of a rut without ever going over, and it left him with a short temper and a happy trigger finger, even on himself.

Even worse, he felt inexplicably and inescapably… lonely.


It took Wade an embarrassing seven months to realize that he hadn't had any jobs from or in one of his highest-traffic murder zones. To be fair, he'd made been making sure he was working non-stop to avoid his unsatisfiable cravings, but he still should've noticed sooner. As soon as he completed his current contracts, he made his way back to good ol' NYC.

He knew something was wrong the second he got in the city proper. He could feel-smell-taste it in the air - there was something here that belonged to him, something that made his fangs and his knot throb harder than usual, and he had no idea where or what it was. He didn't know if it was a thing or a person, in a building or buried beneath cement, but it was his and he was going to find it.

Or so he thought.

Wade spent two frustrating weeks running into scent trails and trying to track them to their source, or trying to find a scent trail strong enough to indicate a presence recent enough for him to follow. There was nothing. Every trail was hours old at best, or it disappeared completely. Which could have been caused by any number of things, but he was so short on information he may as well have cut off his nose for all the good it did him. And it wasn't like he could gather intel on a fucking scent, or have informants looking for anything.

It was pissing him off.

Besides his inability to locate that one thing, the longer he was in the city, chasing that scent, chasing what was his, the sharper the rut-like need became, the more insistent the throb in his fangs and his knot. He felt half-crazed half the time, that unending ache in his jaw and his cock nearly enough to drive him to cutting them both off. He abstained, but just barely. He ended up putting a bullet in his brain every other day as it was anyway.

His third week back in the Big Apple found Wade perched on a roof vent after another failure, refueling on some high quality tacos by angrily shoving them down his gullet as fast as he could get them in his mouth, resisting the desire to just shoot 'em up right there on that rooftop - when he killed himself in unsecured or public locations, he found himself waking up in morgues or coffins, sometimes underground and lemme tell you what: the novelty of pretending you're reviving as a zombie wears off after the 32nd time you have to punch or blow your way through a hard-wood, laminated coffin and roughly six feet of dirt, oh and there had been more than a few times he'd woken up hella late because he'd had to rebuild from a whole fucking cremation and that whole process was more bullshit than going through the DMV.

Movement in his peripheral vision had his gun out of its holster and pointed at the head of a figure who'd dropped to the roof from the sky, and he finished off his last taco as the form rose out of its crouch. When he turned his head and registered the blue and red suit, he spun the gun and holstered it like the wicked-awesome cowboy he was.

"Spidey! Baby boy! Oh how I've missed your beautiful face!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and strolling towards the other man. "How's my favourite arachnid?"

[Wonder if we'll ever get to see his face. Bet he had has a really nice one.]

The smaller man made a strange sound and then the next thing Wade knew, two webs stuck to his chest and he was yanked forward. Rather, he was sent flying through the air, right off the roof.

"Aw, my Spidey still likes to play hard-to-get," he grinned, nearly ecstatic at the opportunity to play with Spidey again. He hadn't realized how much he missed it until he'd come back. Hadn't even realized how absent his normally-prevalent verbal sparring partner had been. "And me without my grappling hook, too," he sighed in a mockery of a Southern Belle. "Sneaky sneaky."

As he fell, he could see Spider-Man walking to the opposite side of the roof and shooting out a web, swinging away through the skyscrapers.

{Not as nice as dat ass though. Mm!}

"Move over Jeanie, Deadpool dreams of Dat Booty."


Wade still had enough nightmares about Canada's most special spa resort that he didn't immediately recognize that the hard bed below him, the bright lights above him, and the hushed voices around him were actually there and not just in his head again.

"Hurry your healing and get your ass out of my hospital bed."

Wade's eyes snapped open and he grinned. "Aw, Tin Man, didn't know you cared enough to give me one."

Tony Stark glared down at him from the foot of the bed, arms crossed, ignoring the elbow Banner was jabbing into his ribs. A frowning Otter Pop turned towards him from the window while Russia's Next Top Assassin lurked just over his shoulder, eyes pinned to Wade like he was about to steal the assassin's omega. It was almost worth it to try, just to see how that fight would go down, but just like it had the past several months, the thought of being with an omega (or anyone else) turned his stomach hard enough that he dropped the idea without another thought.

"I don't. But we didn't need the publicity of your Freddy Krueger corpse pulling itself together in full view of the public."

"Aw, it's okay," Wade snickered as he rolled his still-healing limbs out of the bed. His body was in one piece, even if not all of bones were, and that was all he needed to be mobile; his pain threshold could take care of the rest. "We both know you're as big a teddy bear as that rabbit you got your girlfriend in your third movie."

Stark opened then closed his mouth then opened it again. "You know what, I don't care. Just get out of my Tower. The rest of the city too, while you're at at."

"Tony," the Less-Jolly Green Giant chided softly while Wade gathered his weapons from a small cart they'd been piled on and holstered them. "Wade, Jarvis ran some tests while you were still reviving-"

"You mean you ran some tests," the petulant beta muttered darkly. The doc's eyes flashed green in warning and Wade perked up. He'd never gotten the chance to fight the Hulk but he bet it'd be fun.

[Probably more fun than fighting Cap's Alpha.]

{How hard do you think we have to poke him to get him to go nuclear?}

"Regardless of who ran the tests," Banner continued smoothly, "we were concerned that you were running hotter than your records indicate. It appears that your body is attempting to enter rut."

"Oh, yeah that whole thing," he shrugged. "Yeah, that's been going on a few months."

Banner paled. "And you're not worried that your healing factor hasn't corrected that?"

"It's whatever. It's not like I can die from it. Or get any crazier. Sure I've noticed an increase in murderyness, but nothing wrong with that," he laughed, winking through his mask at Barnes. Not that he could see it. Whatever. He rolled his shoulders and strode towards the door; he had Very Important Shit to do.

"Do you... need assistance finding an omega to help you through?" Banner offered, stopping Wade right before the door wooshed open.

"Depends. Is Cap on the table?" he asked slyly.

Barnes didn't growl, but he did move in front of his omega and he did threaten, "Touch him and I'll make sure you don't come back."

Wade fingered the grip on his pistol with one hand while the other itched to grab his katana. "That a promise?"

The good doctor suddenly stepped between them. "Perhaps I can help you find someone who isn't already mated," he said, voice soft, smooth, almost soothing. Probably. Wade wasn't soothed. His skin prickled and he ached where he couldn't stop aching and he wanted to destroy something. Many things. Many big things. Really big things. You know what? Everything. He wanted to destroy everything.

"Waste of time," he chirped suddenly, the high pitch throwing the tension of the room on tilt. Barnes looked like he almost stumbled and Wade grinned. "I've got a date to keep," he whisper-confided, turning back towards the door.

"You know, I always thought Parker would leave you," Stark spoke up again, voice conversational. "Never figured you for the mate-abandoner."

[I think he's talking about you.]

{Who's Parker?}

"Pretty sure I'd have to find an omega who wants me before I can be called a mate-abandoner," he reminded the group. "One-night and one-heat stands weren't mates, last I checked. I thought a genius like you would get that, even if you're a beta."

All four men stared at him.

"Ah," Banner said.

"Hm," Stark said.

"Oh," Rogers said.

"..." Barnes said.

[What?]

{What?}

"What?"




This is to certify that
Peter Benjamin Parker, omega, & Wade Winston Wilson, alpha
have bonded as mates
on the 11th day of November, 2014.
The Bonding Bite has been confirmed by
BuckyBarnes/SteveRogers & BruceBanner/TonyStark. THOR

Wade reverently traced the messy, barely legible scrawl of 'Peter's' handwriting, amused at the way his own handwriting looked practically typed in comparison. He didn't dare apply any pressure to the paper other than the whisper of a glove, too terrified that he would rip it and this dream-come-true would go up in smoke. He suddenly remember the feeling he'd been chasing the last two weeks, that thing that was his. This was it.

"Who is he?" he whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the document.

"He's… on his way," Cap replied vaguely somewhere behind him.

"Why wasn't this notarized?" he asked next, sweeping his thumb over the empty circle that usually held a seal, and then over the blank line above 'Officiated By'.

"Your name is practically a black market household name," Stark snorted. There was a thump and a groan and Wade was pretty sure the billionaire had just gotten another one of the doc's elbows to his ribs.

"Neither of you wanted Peter or his aunt associated with you on paper in the event one of your enemies found out and used either of them as pressure points," Banner explained, which, yeah, it made sense, even if it stung.

He always knew that if he had a mate, he'd blow up anything in his way if they were hurt in any way, and knowing himself the way he did, he'd make sure his mate knew that too. That should be enough… but maybe 'pressure points' were an excuse born of shame. Shame of him as someone's alpha, a secret to be kept, a knot to be used. His heart felt sick at the the thought and he could only hope that that wasn't the case.

"So he knows what I do then?" He couldn't stop tracing the harsh lines of his mate's name. He couldn't really believe it was true, that there was someone out there that wanted him, and he hated the combination of memory malfunction and astronomically-improbable bullet that hit his brain in just the right place to erase his omega. They'd only been bonded a month before it'd happened, and he didn't know how much longer they'd been together before that.

Wade frowned. There was something about this whole situation that was niggling at him, something that was making the alpha part of him restless, edging on fury.

"Peter is well aware of your profession. He doesn't approve, but he doesn't try to stop you either. Apart from asking you not to kill anyone when you can help it," Rogers chimed in. Wade could almost hear the smile he was probably giving his own assassin. Bonded mates were so-

[Oh.]

{You don't think...}

"They wouldn't subject anyone to that. Well, not Cap or the ogre anyway."

[You sure about that?]

{Omegas get so greedy for that bite during their heats.}

"If this isn't official, that means I didn't mark him, right?"

In the sudden silence following his too-even question, he could hear the sudden whir - whir - whir of that metal arm adjusting, and he could sense Barnes moving in front of his omega. The other three hadn't figured it out yet, but Barnes was smart. He knew. He understood.

"Of course you did. You two are bonded. What else would you do, wear rings?" Stark scoffed. Banner sighed softly in exasperation into the silence.

Wade had a gun in each hand, pointed at Banner's and Stark's heads, a second later. "You're both egg heads and you're a doc to boot and you. let. me. mark. him."

Barnes was directly in front of his mate, on the defensive with his knees bent, waiting for an attack. Rogers stood just behind him, posture at rest but body tense, legs shoulder-width apart and both hands on his alpha's shoulders, like he was ready to yank him out of the way any second. Stark was overly confident in his loose posture and I-dare-you expression. Banners hands were raised in the classic please-don't-shoot-me gesture that Deadpool was used to ignoring (gleefully).

That alpha part of Wade was wide awake now, snarling and biting at the bits that held it in check. The aches were stronger than ever, and he knew what they were now, he understood why he wanted nothing more than to get his teeth and his knot into someone. Because he'd had an omega waiting for him these last seven months, an omega who would have gone through the agony of their bond breaking with his death, an omega who would have waited for him to come back only to be abandoned by his persistent absence.

Wade was never angry because nothing offended or insulted him. He'd thought. Apparently he'd found something, and that something made him furious: harm coming to his mate and people who knew better doing nothing to prevent it.

"Shame you two don't have mates," he mused out loud, letting his thumbs trace the safety switches before turning them off. "I would have loved to off them first so you'll know the pain he had to go through. I guess I'll have to settle for just killing you instead."

There was a split second of stillness before as he pressed the trigger, and then the room exploded into sound and motion.

One of the windows shattered inward at from the force of a self-flying Iron Man suit, and it wrapped around Stark and deflected the bullet before it could hit. Banner turned green and giant in the blink of an eye, and one of his massive paws smacked Wade into a wall. He was already holstering his guns by the time he got to his feet again, and pulling both his katana from his back.

[You don't even remember him.]

{He could be uglier than you. And a total asshole.}

"He chose me. That makes him the goddamn second coming in my fucking book. And they let me hurt him."

Wade charged, swinging his blades at green skin as often as he deflected bullets from a metal suit. Walls pockmarked and windows shattered from the redirected projectiles. Both the suit and the berserker's skin were unaffected by his attacks, but that just meant he had to amp them up. The one time he checked on whether or not the Cap and his boy would join the melee, he got a bullet from said assassin in his shoulder - a warning shot. He nodded and pulled a grenade from his pouch, holding the lever down with his thumb while he flicked the pin out with his middle finger. He had only raised the device over his head when-

"Wade!"

In the reflection of a shattered window, he could make out smears of a familiar red and blue suit.

"Better take cover, baby boy!" he shouted, then hurled the grenade right into the roaring Hulk's mouth. "Daddy's in a mood today!" The beast looked startled as he swallowed the explosive, then there was a dull thud and the Hulk groaned, curling in half.

Wade pulled another three grenades out of his Mary Poppins pouch and worked his fingers into pin rounds - Hulk was temporarily out of commission, trying and failing to stand, but Iron Man was still up and moving, paused with his head turned towards Spidey. Suddenly, a scent flooded the room and Wade froze, his pulse pounding through his fangs and his half-knot, the grenades falling from his grip and leaving three pins around his fingers like rings. He didn't even care to acknowledge Stark swooping in to gather explosives before flying out the window to where they could detonate safely. He was too busy staring at the gorgeous boy beneath the red, black, and white mask, too busy drowning in the source of the scent that's been haunting him for weeks.

"You," he whispered, awestruck. "I've been smelling something for weeks, something that's mine, but I didn't know what it was it was. It was you. You're the thing that's mine. You're my omega?" The alpha in him was simultaneously calmed by the other man's presence and thrown into a frothing rage at the distance between them, so Wade took a step forward.

Spidey - or should he say, Peter - suddenly looked nervous. "Yeah. I mean, if you want me to be."

Wade laughed and took another step forward, unable to take his eyes off Spidey's face, trying to memorize every detail. Again. "I had a crush on you for five years. I'm pretty sure."

Peter - Spidey's name was Peter - laughed too, though the sound was a bit too high, a bit too hysterical, and his eyes were a bit too wide.

"You webbed me off a roof," Wade said as he took another step. He was only about half-way to the other man, but he was scared to rush this. He was terrified that he might reach out to touch and find out it was all a hallucination. Not that his dick was getting the memo - he was still as hard as he'd been since that head shot had apparently knocked his memory.

"I was... upset," Peter shrugged, finally breaking eye contact to look at the floor as his cheeks took on a pink tint. "We'd only been mated for a month when you took that job. I- I felt our bond break-" the omega's voice broke suddenly, but he just swallowed and straightened his shoulders, raised his chain, dared someone to comment. Wade had to slip tension into his muscles to prevent himself from going over to the boy to either comfort him or take up the challenge presented with such sexy defiance.

"I waited for you to come back," he continued, voice strong again in a way that made Wade feel oddly proud of him, "like you always did, but two weeks later you were on the news in Egypt and you hadn't called. It was pretty clear you weren't coming back." Peter shrugged again, but there was no hiding the pain in his scent. Wade shifted in place against the primal urge to comfort a distraught omega. Well, one that smelled like his, anyway. "And if you were going to leave me, I didn't want to see you again, so I had Stark blacklist your number out of the state.

"I tried getting over you for seven months, and then you just invaded my city and talked to me like nothing happened. It hurt too much knowing you didn't want me anymore." A strange, terrible sound he'd never heard before wrenched its way out of Wade's throat and Peter shot him a doleful smile. "You'd always remembered me before. It never even crossed my mind that you could forget me."

"I'm so sorry, baby boy," he murmured, taking another step closer. "If it were up to me, I would never forget anything about you at all, pinky promise. I remember that I have the universe's biggest crush on you, but I don't know how we got from that to- I really bit you?"

Peter licked his lips, swallowed, and closed the distance between them. Fingers wrapped around one of Wade's wrists and raised his hand to face level as he watched and waited. When the boy's other hand rose and began tugging at the fingers on his gloves, he flinched away from the touch. Or he tried to anyway. Spidey's Super Sexy Super Strength employed and he found his wrist in an unbreakable grip.

[I wonder if he ever holds you down with that strength and just rides your knot, takes what he wants and gives you only what he thinks you deserve.]

{I wonder if he ever holds you down with that strength and fucks you.}

"I've seen all of you, Wade. I'm not disgusted. I know, now, that you can't remember but… trust me?" Those ridiculous eyes were so earnest that Wade's breath caught in his throat and he nodded. When Spidey said 'all of him', did he mean his face too?

His leather gloves were slowly pulled from his fingers, exposing inch by inch of scarred skin. Peter didn't cringe when he looked at it, and he didn't shudder when he swept a thumb over Wade's palm. With the hand still wrapped around his wrist, the omega raised Wade's ensnared limb and bent his head forward to guide the exposed palm onto the back of his neck. There was a scar there, a circular imprint of teeth, and even though it was clearly faded, the moment he touched it, heat flared through Wade's body and he suddenly ached so hard that he throbbed.

He blinked and he had his omega pressed face-first against the wall with Wade plastered to his back, lips open against the mark and rocking forward with a hard-on hard enough to fuck right through both their suits. All that mattered was getting in Peter and renewing his mark. Now.

A hand touched his shoulder and Wade lashed out against the threat to their mating, pulling the knife smoothly from his calf as he turned, slashing it through the air with eyes that couldn't see, hoping to hit meat. Something malleable and sticky hit his wrist and swung him, sticking him to the wall. He flicked his hand and threw the blade into his other palm and raised his arm, only to find the same substance pinning his second wrist to his first. He snarled, but then his ankles were stuck to one another.

His omega's body pressed against his front from chest to hips, and warm breath filtered through his mask to his ear with a whisper of "Time to go, Daddy-o."

The knife was taken from his hand and then a shoulder pressed against his stomach before his hands were torn from the wall, the bulk of his weight shifting and tilting until his ankles were torn free, but not apart, as well. A moment later, when everything stilled, he found himself slung over his omega's shoulders, an arm each through the circle of his bound arms and legs. There was the sound of murmured voices he couldn't quite make sense of, then the body he was draped over bounced and jumped. There were a few seconds of weightlessness before they caught and swung through the air.

The day was more than warm under the hot summer sun, but the sudden absence of scents other than his own and Spidey's, combined with the fresh breeze, was more than adequate in waking him. Which was probably a good thing because he was pretty sure he was just humping the omega's shoulder.

Wade was surprised to find that Spidey's scent now was different than when he'd taken off his mask, and it took him a few minutes of puzzling to realize that Spidey and Peter had different scents, that his science-nerd of a spider had to have created a synthetic alpha or beta scent he could work right into the fabric of the spider suit.

"Feeling better?" Peter shouted over the rush of wind caused by their swinging bodies through the high rises. When Wade twisted his head just right, he could see that the mask was back in place. As was his calf knife, from what he could see of his leg where it was dangling off the opposite shoulder.

"Yeah. Sorry 'bout goin' all alpha on ya, baby boy," he shouted back. "It's wasn't really my place."

Spidey's shoulders went tense, and he didn't speak again the rest of their journey. They dropped down on top of a dingy apartment rooftop ten minutes later, one that was in no way short on dirt and grime and tall objects to hide behind. The building next to it was one of those old department stores - all brick and no windows. It was perfect for superheroes with secret identities. Wade was carefully hefted up and then down, and Peter crouched next to him.

"I'm going to put your glove back on, and then I'm going to remove the webs. You think you can behave?"

"Yessir, Spidey-sir!" Wade saluted, the movement definitely more awkward with both of his hands involved.

The other man seemed to stare at him for a long minute before he finally pulled Wade's glove out of wherever it'd been hiding and carefully slid it back over his scarred skin. Even though he was still wearing his own gloves, Peter was very careful, it seemed, to not touch the scars, and Wade wondered if it was because he didn't want to risk a feral alpha on his hands… or because he didn't want to touch it - touch him - at all.

As soon as the leather was secure, the webs were ripped apart and Peter quickly stood up and stepped back, watching. Waiting. When Wade finally got to his feet, Peter took another step backwards and stared at him. Wade stared back.

"You really wanna do this up here, Spidey?" he finally asked after a minute. Spidey started.

"Oh! Sorry, I just… I forgot…" he trailed off and Wade's heart missed a beat in his chest. Was he being selfish, coming here? "Yeah, um… Just head down. Apartment sixty-two. I have to come in the window and I'll let you in."

"Sure thing, baby boy!" he replied back, the cheer just a little forced. He skipped past the smaller man and right through the door, waiting until he heard it close behind him before he slowed down.

The hallway was a decent mix of scents, but strongest of all was Spidey's. Underneath lay Peter's scent, like it was carefully covered by Spidey's. The further he got into the building, down the roof-access hall, several flights of stairs, and a hallway lined with door, the stronger Peter's scent became until it felt like he was drowning in it.

By the time he got to 62 and found a de-suited Petey lounging in the doorway waiting for him, he was thankful for the gradual increase in his baby boy's scent, otherwise the suckerpunch of concentrated Petey-scent that hit him from inside would have annihilated his common sense a second time. As it was, he had to hold himself statue-still as he adjusted to the power of it because his half-knot/half-chode had definitely turned into a half-knot/full-chode. Well, it couldn't really be a chode if it was a full stiffy but whatever.

"Wade?" Peter's voice was almost distorted in his ears, and it was taking every bit of willpower not to tackle the boy and roll in his scent. Wade tilted sideways to pull his calf knife and then he promptly buried it in the front of his thigh.

[WOWEE THAT'LL WAKE YA!]

{Better than napalm in the morning!}

"What the hell, Wade?!"

"Best behaviour, baby boy, I promised!" he replied, adjusting the angle and feeling the metal bite into muscle. That sweet omega scent was still nearly suffocating, but the pain and the slight rotation he was putting to the blade kept his mind sharp.

Peter reached out as if to tug at Wade's wrist or the handle and he smoothly dodged the attempt.

"I don't think that's wise, Spidey," he advised, swerving around the smaller man and striding deeper into the apartment.

It was small and a bit cluttered, but clean. Sciency-looking documents were pinned to the walls and connected by strips of coloured string, and more sciencey-looking equipment was strewn across flat surfaces. Little trinkets filled the rest of the space, mementos of a time he couldn't remember or maybe wasn't even a part of. It wasn't until he passed a grenade stuffed above a few books on a top shelf that it even hit him that he had probably stayed here at some point, maybe even lived here.

The revelation hit him so hard that he stopped moving, frozen, just staring at that grenade. He heaved in a deep breath through his nose, trying to discern his scent amongst the others in the room, but it'd been far too long. He'd heard that mated omegas and alphas alike went nuts without their partner's scent. All this time he'd been dying because he couldn't get his teeth or his dick into something, that feeling that drove him to suicide more than once, had Peter been feeling that too? But worse? Because he'd known that he was mated and that his alpha was still out there, just not returning to him?

Wade started to turn, mouth opened to apologize again, when he realized there was a picture laying on its face on the top-top of the shelf. Curious, he pulled it down and dust cloud followed in its wake, though the glass when he flipped it was clear. Still, it took a moment for the image trapped beneath to register, and when it did, he almost dropped the frame.

It was a of the two of them, unmasked, hugging each other with Peter's back to the camera. The position put the back of his neck, and the bright red, fresh bond bite on clear display, though it was distorted by the way his head was turned to the side because Wade was pressing a grinning kiss to his temple. Peter's own mouth was stretched in a smile so wide and bright that it probably could have caused lens flares if they'd been in a cartoon.

It wasn't until gentle hands pulled the frame from his grasp and put it back on the shelf, face-forward this time, that he realized his own fingers were trembling. Petey stepped within reach and carefully wrapped the shaking digits in his own, and they stood there just like that for who knows how long until the tremors in his hands ceased. For the first time in months, neither his fangs nor his half-knot throbbed.

"Why did you say you didn't have the right to alpha-out on me any more?"

The quiet question jammed so much metal up Wade's spine that he may as well have gotten a bone transplant from Logan. He jerked his hands free and whirled away, feeling like he just wanted to go crawl in a hole and die. Because of the disgusting lack of holes in sight, he contented himself with pacing the other other side of the room.

"I left you, didn't I? Pretty thing like you has to have another alpha by now. Someone who'll treat you better than I probably did." Laughter bubbled out of his chest, a little hysteric and a lot humorless.

"Wade..."

"I don't remember anything about you anyway," Wade powered on. "Just whatever I knew about you as Spider-Man, and who knows how much of that I forgot. What right do I have to ask you to be mine again if I can't even remember you? What right do I have when I already forgot you once and will probably forget you again?"

"Wade."

"I can't even remember the first time you showed me your face or when you told me your name. Did you finally say yes when I asked you out or did you ask me? Was our first time a heat invite or did you let me taste you before that? Was it an accident, on purpose? How do you feel on my knot? How does it feel when you fuck me? How long did it take before you asked me to remove my mask? How long before I let you? Do you want kids? Do I want kids with you?" He felt like he was going to shake out of his skin as his voice rose in pitch and volume, and he knew it was happening, but he couldn't stop.

"I can remember your favourite Mexican order and Szechuan and Italian because we ate all that before, but I can't remember if you like pancakes or if you like mine or how you take them if you do. I can't remember what you look like when you're asleep or when you first wake up or when you first get out of the shower. I can't remember the way you smell or how you smell in heat or the way your slick tastes. I can't remember the expression you make when you're hurt or when you're turned on or when you're surprised. I just- I can't- I can't remember!"

Wade's memory problems had never hit him like this before. He was used to taking the hit and moving on, like everything else in his life. But this was important. Important in the way nothing else had ever been, and he'd taken one measly bullet to the brain and forgotten. It didn't matter how much he loved his mate if he couldn't remember him, he didn't deserve a mate if he couldn't remember him. Not one bit. He couldn't do that to Spidey. He couldn't do that to him again.

"Jesus, Wade, no." The pained wheeze in combination with the unexpected sensation of hardwood under his ass and a warm body in his arms startled Wade from his downward spiral into hysteria, and he realized he'd been babbling it all out loud.

He found himself sitting cross-legged on the floor, Peter sitting in the space between his thighs. Long legs were wrapped around his waist and limber arms around his neck, the smaller man clinging to him like the adorable little spider that he was. A hand slid up the back of his skull over his mask and tried to ease his face into Peter's neck, against where the omega scent would be strongest out of heat, but he resisted, dropping his cheek instead to a broad shoulder and twisting the blade in his thigh until the scent of blood overpowered that of fertile omega.

Petey didn't try to stop him, but he did stop pushing on Wade's skull to re-wrap his arms tighter around Wade's neck.

"Shhh, shhh," Spidey hushed, breath fanning hotly, even through the thick fabric, against Wade's ear as hands started rubbing soothing circles simultaneously between his shoulders and against his lumbar. "It's okay. God Wade, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't care that you forgot. I'm not mad, I promise. You may not remember now, but you remembered so much before you forgot: You always remembered when I had patrol and you always remembered to join me. You always remembered to call when you got to whatever country you had a contract in and you always remembered to call when it was done." Wade wondered how long before he'd been shot had he called Peter? How long had Peter waited for him to call to say he was coming home? Peter seemed to realize where his mind had gone because he switched tracks immediately.

"You always remembered how I liked my pancakes and how many I could eat at a time. You always made them for me after you stayed over before you moved in. Sometimes I'd wake up and find pancakes still warm on the table with a country code written on the top one in chocolate chips so I'd know you'd taken a contract. You'd never accept a contract when I had a heat coming up just in case you'd miss it. You stock my apartment - our apartment - better than me, better than any alpha I've ever had. You always know how to handle me during my heats too, when to use a firm hand or a strong one or a soft one."

Tension pulled at the top of his mask and he tensed, but he didn't try to stop its removal, he only turned his head as it was tugged free and dropped on the floor besides them. Strong hands moved to the side of his face, holding it up and immobile, forcing him to make eye contact. "I'm your baby boy," Peter said firmly, and Wade's heart missed a beat. He hastily pulled the knife from his leg and promptly jabbed it back in a little higher up - the pain had started to dull, and if he wasn't careful, he'd fall into the opening it gave. Those brown eyes didn't break from his once. "You love me, Wade, and you show me every day. You love me so much and so strongly that sometimes it scares me because I don't know what I'd do without it. Not because I'm weak, or because you're weak, but because it makes both of us so much stronger. So if you think leaving again is going to help, don't."

Wade stared at that earnest expression for so long that his eyes started to water before he spoke.

"Oh dear, a heart-felt confession and me without my pearls. Aren't you supposed to be on your knee?"

Peter stared at him for a long minute before blinking, and he immediately slapped Wade in the back of the head.

"You just poured your heart out, too. Don't be a little shit," Spidey admonished, getting to his feet before helping Wade to stand.

Wade snagged his mask from the ground as he went and began to trace the stitching to occupy his fingers. His legs trembled minutely with nerves, but he firmly stood his ground when Petey's fingers overlapped his, stilling them when they wrapped around them tight. "All I'm saying is yeah, you're missing all our firsts, but you're lucky enough to make new ones. And now we know you can get hit hard enough to forget me, so if it happens again, then I just have to go get you myself," Peter shrugged, though his eyes were glinting mischief-bright. "You're a damn good alpha, Wade Winston Wilson. You're my damn good alpha, and don't forget you it."

"As you wish, baby boy," Wade ceded, fighting the urge to hide face as well as the smile pulling at his mouth.

Peter narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him, lips twitching for long seconds before he lost the battle and they split into another blinding grin. He stepped in close, tentatively reaching up to place his fingertips against Wade's chest; not his palms, just his fingertips. All wary-like. But the expression on his face was far from. Wade would probably put it more in the pained-but-hopeful category. Prepared for emotional danger, he rested his hand on the blade's handle.

"Can I kiss you?"

Wade started and barely kept from stumbling backwards. The blade in his leg almost carved out a thick chunk like a particularly gluttonous family member slicing up the turkey at Thanksgiving.

"What?"

That hopeful look fell from Petey's face and yeah, Wade might not know him as his omega anymore, but Petey was still Spidey, and he'd been in love with Spidey for years. All he ever wanted for him was for him to be safe and happy. The same things he'd want for his omega. Maybe he'd subconsciously known that the 'alpha' was an omega all those years ago and doted on him accordingly, maybe it was something born of genuine affection; he'd never know now.

"I mean, you don't have to, obviously," Peter backtracked quickly, taking a step backwards out of Wade's reach, his fingertips sliding from Wade's chest. "You took ages to get comfortable with me the first time we got together, and if you want to be with me again, then it's going to be all new for you. I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with. And that's fine! I promise, it's fine. I just… I just want the chance to be with you again."

His face twisted into a mournful expression and Wade ached to bring the smile back. "You can if you want," he offered encouragingly, taking a step forward. "It's just- You really want to kiss me?"

Peter laughed, a sad, watery thing. "God, I want to do more than that. I've missed you more than you can probably imagine right now. If you let me, I'd get your teeth in my neck until I go into a faux heat and wear you like a blanket with a knot for a week. As embarrassing as it is to admit it, while you were gone, I've absolutely, one hundred percent cried while masturbating to remembering how it felt when you took me, both in heat and out."

The sudden pain in his hip went far in distracting Wade from the sudden desert in his mouth, and a quick glance found his knife lodge in the bone there. Still, his dick still perked up like it'd grown ears of its own; it'd been waiting for seven months to get back in his mate, and here said mate was, offering just that. Not to mention, the thought of banging Spider-Man, the owner of the Eighth Wonder of the Ass-World, the man who'd had his crush and his love, unwanted or otherwise, for the last five years, was just mind-blowing. But the good kind of mind-blowing, not the I-can't-stand-this-anymore kind of mind-blowing he'd been living with for months.

"I can't even put into words how badly I missed you." Peter shrugged and took a small step backwards, which was pretty much the opposite direction Wade wanted him to go right now. "I thought I was going to break apart when I walked into that room in Stark's Tower I wanted to touch you so bad. Those few seconds you had me against a wall? I was so relieved to feel you again that I honestly would've let you take me right then and there, in front of all our coworkers."

[Oh, now he tells you.]

{Definitely information we could have used an hour ago.}

Seriously though, Wade was going to end up accidentally eviscerating himself if Petey kept talking like that.

"You really mean that, baby boy?" Wade whispered, unoccupied hand twitching at his side. He wanted to reach out to him, but despite all the pretty words, the heart-felt declarations, he just couldn't be the one to initiate. He didn't know how, and he sure as hell wasn't confident enough to fake it.

"'Course I do!" Peter practically yelled at him, grabbing fistfuls of his own hair as he spun in an angry little one-step-out, one-step-in circle. "I try not to be a selfish guy, but when it comes to us, I can't help it. If you offered to fuck me right now, even knowing how uncomfortable you'd be because this is a first for you again, I'd accept in a heartbeat if it meant-"

"I wanna to fuck you."

"-that we'd- What?" Peter's rant died out as suddenly as it started and he stood there blinking wide eyes at Wade, mouth agape. "Sorry, I think I had a stroke or an aneurysm or something. Could you repeat that?"

"Well yeah, I could..." he drawled and Petey's face went thunderous.

"Wade!" the omega snapped.

"Yeah, yeah. I said, 'I wanna fuck you', baby boy," he repeated, making sure to keep eye contact. Suddenly, that sweet omega scent he'd been wallowing in since he'd arrived turned mouth-watering as Peter visibly tensed. The knife in his leg scraped bone when he twisted it to keep himself in control.

"I should say no," Peter breathed, voice soft and brown eyes nearly black. "I should make us wait until you know me again, but I won't. I can't. And I'm really, really sorry, but it has to be on one condition: no clothes. Either of us."

Now it was Wade's turn to tense, though his was definitely not a pleasant tension. "Why?"

"Because I haven't touched you for seven months. I need to be with you again. Properly," Peter stressed. "Even if you don't mark me again, reaffirming our bond through skin contact will probably be enough for me for now. And even if you can't recognize the urge just yet, I know you need it too."

Before Wade could wrangle a response in his scattered mind, Peter suddenly took a step back, a slow glide, as he pulled apart the long- and short-sleeved shirts he was wearing, shedding the short-sleeved over-shirt and dropping it to the floor. He took another step backwards, towards what Wade could tell was the bathroom, and shed his long-sleeved shirt too, leaving his torso bare.

Wade swallowed at the sight of all that skin and muscle on display and took a step forward like he'd been tugged. Then another as Peter fiddled with the button on his jeans. When he tried for a third, Peter's free hand shot up, a clear 'stay', and Wade froze.

"You're not playing by the rules, Daddy," Peter whispered. His smile was watery and a bit forced and it hit Wade right in the feels he didn't know he still had.

Oh, he had morals and ethics and shit (though they probably weren't the same the commonwealth's or whatever), but omega-feels were something a bit different. Some alphas couldn't bear the thought of killing or hurting an omega, but Wade had never seen any difference in who he was killing. Did they deserve it? Then he was going to give them a VIP ticket to the Afterlife. But apparently his omega was another genre entirely.

"You know me: Rule-Breaker Wilson, my mama named me. Have to live up to her expectations," he retorted. Peter snorted like he was surprised into it, and something in the air eased, making Wade aware of the heavy tension across his shoulders and up his neck.

He rolled his head and his shoulders, took a deep breath, and began disarming onto the coffee table. He hovered over the array when it was complete, his instincts itching at being completely weaponless when he had something he actually wanted to protect, a body he actually wanted to take care of.

"You usually kept a knife and a gun with you when we were home," Peter offered from the same place Wade had left him, just with his hands now jammed in his pockets.

Wade held his eyes for a long moment, half bent over and hand hovering over one of his semi-automatics. Brown eyes, ones he'd already seen soft then hard then back again in fascinating turns, refused to break his gaze. When he finally let his gloves brush against metal, the well-worn material wrapping around the grip of his pistol without so much as a creak of the leather, Peter's lips gave a victorious little quirk and he flicked open the button on his jeans. He took another step backwards and into the bathroom, disappearing from sight. Wade automatically took a step forward before remembering the knife in his thigh.

[Showers being pretty small spaces and all…]

{...we don't wanna be poking Spidey with any other knife than the one we came out of the womb swinging with.}

"Not even sure we should be pokin' 'im with that one either," he muttered back as he yanked the blade free and pressed his mask over the opening to keep blood from spraying all over all the place. As cluttered as the place was, it was clean and well taken care of, and he didn't want to get a spanking for messing the place up. Or did he…

[Booty is waiting.]

{Sweet, nubile, college-aged ours booty.}

"Ooh, you're right."

As quickly as he moved, Spidey had always been faster, and the boy was already in the shower stall under the water when Wade made it to the doorway. The vague shadow behind the textured glass shifted and a bare, wet arm extended out, long fingers beckoning at him.

"I was the only one who ever washed your suit and judging by the smell of things, that hasn't changed," Peter said, his voice echoing against the tiles. "You may as well keep it on for now."

The arm disappeared back behind the glass and Wade stared after it for a moment before he toed off his boots. His eyes darted around, trying to figure out where was best for his weapons when he realized there were holsters on the wall next to the shower with the handles facing towards the glass, they exact way he'd have put them for an easy grab. Another small thing to remind him that he'd lost something massive.

Wade rinsed the blood from his blade in the sink, dropped his bloody mask in the little pool of water, holstered the gun and knife, then climbed into the shower, suit and socks included. Peter was facing him, safe from the fall of the water where he stood directly under the shower head. The wild tufts of brown hair had been made wilder with shampoo, his body was already covered in soap suds, and he was smiling, sad and soft. He was 100% naked. It took quite a bit of effort for Wade to keep his eyes above the line of broad shoulders.

"Funny meeting you here," Peter said, his lips spreading into a grin.

Wade laughed. "Come here often?" he asked, striking a glamorous lounging pose against the shower wall.

The omega laughed in turn then twirled his raised finger in a classic 'give us a twirl' twirl. Wade obliged, turning slowly until he could feel his suit soaked through and through. When he faced forward again, soap was being washed away from Peter's hair and skin, and Peter himself was waiting with two hands full of soap, which he immediately slapped down onto Wade's shoulders.

"Don't think you're getting out of a full machine wash, young man," Peter scolded in pretty good old lady voice as he scrubbed down Wade's arms with brusque familiarity.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetums," he said with a grin, feeling himself relax at masseuse-like efficiency the soap was rubbed into his suit with, from his shoulders down to his biceps, elbows, forearms, and hell, even his palms and fingers.

"Mhm," Peter hummed dubiously, turning him around to scrub his back.

Wade half expected the touch to turn sexual when it reached his legs, but Peter's hands remained nothing but practical the entire time they were on him, even when they just reached around to get the front, fingers lingering only briefly on the tear in his suit from when he'd stabbed himself.

He felt… oddly disappointed by the fact. Until Spidey stood up, his fingers trailing up Wade's sides, snagging on the split between his suit top and bottoms. For a second, he fervently wished that he would feel skin brushing along his scars, and then immediately felt ashamed of that wish when they pulled away.

He was just about to turn back around when ten fingertips pressed against his sides again, followed by a forehead to his spine. Heat spread across his suit and seeped into the fabric; a breath released.

"You alright, baby?" he asked the shower wall, body tense. Had he already fucked up? Was this that moment where he's shoved, flailing comically, from the shower?

"Not really," Peter whispered, his fingers curling and fisting the suit at Wade's sides. "I need to touch you so bad that I feel too close to doing something unforgivable to you."

[When you touched he didn't shudder at your paws.]

{Or your face.}

[He had a picture of you two kissing.]

{Forget the picture, he has your fucking bond bite and it sure as hell isn't anyone else's.}

The fire of possessiveness that rolled him through him was entirely new, though not exactly surprising. Wade was never good at sharing his toys. Toys usually meaning weapons. Wade was terrible at sharing weapons. Get your own.

"There's nothing you could do to me that I wouldn't forgive, Spidey," Wade sighed out.

"Nothing? What about cheating on you? Leaving you? Betraying you?" Peter suggested.

He thought about it, pictured each scenario in vivid and painful clarity. "Nothing," he repeated firmly after a second.

"You're too good of a man, Wade Wilson."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you're the too-good one."

Wade didn't give him a chance to reply before he was stripping off his sopping wet top and tossing it over the shower wall to plop in the sink with his mask. When he bent to do the same with his pants and socks, Peter made a choked sound from behind him and the scent of arousal skyrocketed to the point where Wade could smell it even over all the water. After his pants went the way of his top, he turned around and found his spider behind the spray, pressed against the opposite wall, his palms to the tiles and fingers bent in such a way that meant he was two seconds from climbing up, up, and away. Wade might've been a tad insulted if the boy wasn't panting, his cock jutting straight out from his body.

In a repeat of the motion Peter made earlier, Wade raised his hand and beckoned.

Peter's eyes flickered down to where he was still quite noticeably soft from when he'd deflated after his mini-freak-out from finding the picture, and the alpha licked his lips, fighting against the urge to cover himself up. Not because he was ashamed for anything in any way, but because he didn't want Peter thinking that he wasn't attracted to him.

"Sorry, just need a bit," Wade shrugged, shoulders hunching subconsciously.

Peter's eyes shot back to his, wide and horrified. "No! That's not- Fuck, Wade, no. I don't care. I've never cared," he said vehemently. With his wet hair and wide eyes, for a moment, he looked like a drowned kitten. Which meant that Wade felt like doing nothing other than gathering him to his chest and cuddling the shit out of him instead of running far far away.

"It's just that you were hard earlier, and Banner said you'd told them you'd had a half-knot for months, and you were hard when you pinned me earlier… I just wanted to make sure it wasn't something I did?"

Well wasn't this just a fucking mess. Wade could be insecure as much as he liked, it was damn near his job, but someone who looked and smelled like Petey did, who apparently had a heart of gold for putting up with him at all or for as long as he had, he deserved light years of self-confidence, and if Wade ruined that well, he really was as big a pile of shit as he thought he was. And Spidey wouldn't get involved with pieces of shit so it was long past time to step up his game.

"Okay, you, me, we're getting outta this snow globe-"

"Snow globes aren't square, Wade."

"-and we're gonna dry off and get somma that intimacy going on so we can stop having miscommunication. There ain't no miscommunication when dicks and butts are all that are talking. Actually-"

"Please don't finish that sentence." Peter's words were sharp as he turned off the shower, but his smile was a bit relieved and his eyes were bright. A bit too bright, but too-bright was better than less-bright.

"The white one's yours," Peter continued, pointing his chin towards the towel hanging on the rack, right next to a black one.

Wade handed Spidey his first, and then went to grab his, only to find a fucking cloud in his hand.

"What's wrong?"

"I knew you could turn a couple of clouds into a Pegasus-"

[They only turned into hail when we tried.]

{Because that was a cartoon movie.}

"-but I didn't know you could turn them into towels too!"

Peter laughed as he scrubbed at his hair with his own towel. "Yeah, it took ages to find you a good towel that didn't hurt your scars. We've got more stashed around this apartment than I can remember or find."

Wade was one millisecond from responding to that when he pressed the towel to his face and got a straight dose of Eau de Baby Boy and froze, two milliseconds from putting his head through the wall.

"You may want to vacate and meet me in the bedroom because I'm liable to tackle you right now and it's not going to be comfy for you if I do." His voice was muffled by the fabric, and distorted by the lump in his throat and the sudden renewed fangs in his mouth. His dick was rock hard again, his knot-half swollen, and it twitched whenever he moved the towel and the trailing end brushed over his very desperate flesh; it may as well have been infested by Venom for how much it wanted in Spidey's sweet ass. He tried pulling his face free of the softness, but that only got him a blast of fresh omega arousal and the unsteady and near-silent drip of slick falling to the tub floor.

"Yup, sounds about right. Well, at least I still turn you on, that's good to know." The sound of Spidey's voice traveled, first up, then over, and the sudden need to laugh at the thought of a naked Spider-Man crawling around his own bathroom nearly drowned out his lust for a split second, but then a drop of slick hit his head and slid down his nose and he really really apparently had to thank Weapon X for the control they inadvertently helped him build, otherwise he probably would have tried to go right through the glass shower door.

[You're gonna fuck 'im anyway, why the fuck you waiting?]

{Because he wants to 'do it right'.}

[Right, left, up, down, sideways, slantways, longways, backways, squareways, front ways who gives a shit let's fuck!]

{He's going to have to actually leave the bathroom first.}

"Did you change your mind?" The question was loud enough to be heard from across the apartment, but there was a wariness to it that reminded Wade that the happiness meter on Peter's night, hell, maybe the rest of his week or beyond, hinged on his participation.

"Does it look like I changed my mind?" he hollered back he as slid the door open hopped out of the shower. His attempts to dry off while hopping were vaguely successful up until the point where he nearly dumped a liter of blood plus his brain into the tub when he lost traction with the foot that was still in the tub. It was only with his advanced ninja skillz ({You mean 'luck'?}) that he managed to trip out of the tub and onto the safety of the bathmat. Each of the Golden Girls held up 10.0 scorecards while the audience behind them broke into raucous cheers.

"I wouldn't know! A certain daddy is dragging his ass and I can't see him at all!" Peter yelled back.

A massive sign crashed down onto the judge's table, sending up a cloud of dust, rubble like shrapnel, and little old lady parts. Through the haze, DADDY flashed red at him in classic, neon script while wrinkled, liver-spotted arms and legs stuck out from under the edges, twitching all cartoon-like. Tiny chibi Spideys and Deadpools appeared in the doorway, calling to him, cheering him on.

"Come get me!" the tiny Spideys in their adorable tiny kimono cheered, waving their little fans in an adorable little dance.

"Go get him!" the tiny Deadpools with their adorable tiny katana cheered, shooting their little guns off in rhythmic fire.

Wade nearly sprinted from the bathroom right then and there, but then he remembered the towel in his hand. Normally he'd just drop it wherever, but this was Petey's home, and it was a very clean home, and he was a guest. He carefully hung it in straight lines over the shower slider thing, patting it with a victorious grin when it failed to foil his efforts, despite its fluffiest and most diabolical abilities. The hallucination was gone when he turned back around, but he still felt like he was being cheered on as he quick-stepped it to Spidey's bedroom. He sorta stuck in the doorway though at the sight of Peter reclining on a massive bed that took up nearly the whole of the small bedroom.

Baby boy was still naked, but there was a pillow over his lap and he was crushing a Deadpool Plushie™ (of Wade's own brilliant and well-marketed design, thank you) to his chest, his knuckles white where they clutched the soft material to his chest. There was a matching Spidey Plushie™ (also of Wade's design) on the bedside table closest to the window. The other nightstand was topped with more sciencey shit, like the clutter in the living room was breeding and dropping its spawn wherever it damn well pleased. In stark contrast, the nightstand holding the little Spidey was bare otherwise, and Wade had a sneaking suspicion that that was his side. Which made sense because there's no way he wouldn't have made sure to be between his mate and the window.

There was tension in the air and overlaying the arousal in Petey's scent. In his body too, as relaxed as he was trying to look. The look in his eyes was a bit too wide and his small smile a bit too forced, and his knuckles a bit too white. Brown eyes roamed down his body and back up, and their owner tensed just a little further.

Wade shifted in place and tried to beat away the thought that Petey really was grossed out by him after all, that he just hadn't gotten a good look in the shower and was regretting his offer now that Wade was standing his sexily-scarred ass right in full view and good lighting.

"That's one of the things I love about you," Peter said suddenly, pulling Wade from his downward spirals with a kickstart to his heart like ooh yeah baby.

"What's that?" Wade asked, mouth dry.

[Holy shit. He said love.]

{Holy shit. He said love about you.}

Spidey smiled at him. "How considerate you are. For example, you came all the way to the bedroom so I could see you dragging ass in person."

Wade stared at him. Petey smiled that smile right back.

"I hang up my towel and this is how you repay me?" Wade pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh no. I guess daddy'll have to punish me for being so unforgivably rude," Peter drawled in a voice dry enough to evaporate the Pacific as he twisted his hips and rolled his scrumptious ass right up into the air, flashing the glistening pink portal to Valhalla. But there was that word again. He could almost hear the buzz of neon behind him.

"You keep calling me that," he croaked, throat too dry from too much too soon. Peter was being firm with him, encouraging, but it still felt so new. Before the last few months, he had been able to get around, get a little ass and pussy here and there. But that had to be cajoled, bartered, carefully won by being a - ugh - good guy. He'd never been offered it so freely or so willingly or damn, so fucking stubbornly. And hell, getting anyone to play along with one of his kinks had always been a step too far as far as his bed partners had been concerned. "Is that new?"

Peter froze with his ass lifted just that little bit in the air, and then he kept rolling, right over onto his back again, the plushie still clutched to his chest. His expression had closed off again. "No. Well, you've pretty much called me 'baby boy' since day one, and then after the first time we fucked you were being all sweet and shit, taking care of me, and I - well, I called you 'Daddy' on accident-" He stopped suddenly and coughed, his cheeks colouring a faint and endearing red. "Anyway, you loved it so I kept doing it. You didn't exactly make it hard to like it. Do you- do you me to stop?"

"Nah. Even if I only really know you right now as my Spidey instead of my Petey-Spidey, I definitely still love it," Wade admitted, walking forward and crawling up onto the bed. Peter's breath hitched, his eyes went dark and the scent of his slick thickened as he shuffled down to lay flat on the bed, his legs spreading open to welcome Wade into the space between them. "Gets me real hot, baby boy," he whispered, stopping with his hands curled into fists next to Petey's head, his body held up and hovering over the smaller man's, his dick hanging between the omega's legs, close enough to feel the heat radiating from the kid's asshole.

"That's why it's a 'kink', Wade," his sassy little webhead snarked. Sassily. Punk. No wait, that's Barnes' thing. "Now, are you gonna kiss me or what?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

Still, it took him a long minute to bridge the distance between their lips, his biceps straining with the effort of keeping his body off of Peter's. But the second he did, Peter's eyes closed slowly and there was a slow exhale of relief against his mouth. It surprised him enough to pull away, but the sparky little omega huffed a little growl, more like a half-hearted snarl, of annoyance against his mouth and he leaned back in.

Spidey's mouth was hot and insistent against him in a way he couldn't remember ever experiencing. Well, just getting a kiss was hard enough as it was. No one wanted to be that close to his scars, and kissing was far too intimate for someone to get with a mercenary who'd probably turn on them for the right numbers, anyway. But his baby boy was damn near desperate to keep their mouths together, to wrap their tongues around one another. So much so that slim arms wrapped around Wade's neck used him as a balance to roll that lithe body up into his, brushing his scars against mostly clear skin and making their dicks knock together.

"Shhh," he breathed between kisses, just as loathe to part from Spidey's mouth now that he was tasting it for the first time in current memory. And fuck how good he tasted, like licking swallowing his scent. Wade could only imagine what his slick would taste like if his mouth was this good. "I'll take care of you, baby boy. Slow your roll."

Peter growled. A full on alpha-type of growl from deep in his chest, one that reverberated right up into Wade's. And then he tightened his arms and shoved the whole of his body right up into Wade's hard enough to knock Wade off balance. Wade growled right back and dropped the whole of his weight onto Peter, pinning him where he lay.

Instead of trying to fight him off again, the omega practically melted into the bed, his body relaxing so much that Wade's body shifted too, until every inch of his front was pressed to Peter's. A soft exhale hit his mouth, half breath, half moan, and the arms around him relaxed, though the thighs on either side of his hips shifted as calves curved easily over his ass. Before he knew it, Wade was wrapped in Spidey.

"Happy now, baby boy?" Wade whispered, amused by the clinginess even as something inside of himself settled at feeling Peter so utterly caged by his body.

"Almost," Peter whispered back, rolling his hips as best as he was probably able. Still, it was just enough to lend a little friction to the contact between their dicks, and apparently that little bit was just enough because a small spot wet bloomed between them (and it wasn't from Wade's dick), and slick soaked the sheets beneath his thighs. Just one deep breath had Wade's half-knot and fangs throbbing in a beat that had become far too familiar these last few months.

"How ya think I can make you all-the-way happy?" Wade replied, playing along, kissing along that strong jawline he'd admired from the other side of a well-fitted mask more times than he could count. He didn't stop till he reached that slender neck, so potentially vulnerable to the horrifying possibilities of violence his fangs were capable of and so frightfully open to him, and Peter tilted his head back as if to encourage him there. He actually lost himself to the scent of it, got stuck breathing it in too much too fast until his head spun and he had to pull back.

"Well, first, you roll me over," Peter so kindly educated him with a flushed, dazed expression. Wade reluctantly obliged, going to his knees just enough to stick a hand under Peter's ass and flip him in place before hurriedly blanketing the other man with his body again.

The position was both better, because now he could tongue that bite mark that made him the aggressive-and-possessive kind of crazy at the same time he could slide his dick through the slick-soaked ass-crack, and it was worse, because now he could tongue that bite mark that made him the aggressive-and-possessive kind of crazy at the same time he could slide his dick through the slick-soaked ass-crack.

He amused himself for a few minutes rocking his hips, feeling his cock slip across slick skin, and nipping at the raised edges of that scar; as fascinated as he was by it, it was hard to imagine that it had come from his teeth. Probably because he hadn't entertained the idea of taking a mate since before the canc-

Wade's mind froze mid-stroke when his dick caught on something slick and tight that tried to suck him right in.

"Se-second," Peter breathed through a stutter as he shifted below Wade, working his hips in small little circles that rolled the tip of the alpha's dick against his asshole, "you gotta bite me." His arm flopped out from under his head and kinda wiggled in the air before slapping down on the side of his neck, where he immediately grunted at the harsh sound and probable slight sting, if the sudden pinking of the skin under his hand was anything to go by. "Here. Just… nibble at the skin over my scent gland till I get super wet. And hot. Like, I'll turn into a furnace."

"That the scientific terminology, Petey?" Wade giggled out, trying to distract himself from the way he was slowly losing will to put any distance between them.

The idea that he could want to stop, or that his omega could want him to stop, and he wouldn't be able to, well, it fucking terrified him. Had it been easier the first time? Had he been this afraid? Had he really trusted both of their physical and mental well-beings to Petey's say-so that they were okay, that they could handle this?

Although, if he actually thought about it, Spidey was the one person he actually trusted implicitly. Almost always had. Even when he came back with a spider-shaped hole in his memory in his heart and got thrown off a roof, he still trusted Spidey.

"Bite me," Petey said half-heartedly. Or it was probably whole-heartedly, but half was insult and half was demand. "Your choice if you wanna do it the same place or the other side."

Wade frowned in confusion and bent down low to find Spidey's fingers tracing two small, circular scars about an inch apart on the side of his neck. … About the same width apart as his fangs.

He lowered himself to one elbow and balanced all of his weight on that side, reaching up his free hand to feel the little scars. Just touching them with his fingertips, brushing against the bond bite with his thumb, sent little frissons of heat and electricity down his belly and up the insides of his thighs to his dick. Which was less a dick and more a lightning rod right now for every. little. fucking. thing for fuck's sake.

"Did I have to bite you last time to give you this?" he asked quietly, brushing over the two scars respectively.

Peter's smile turned dopey and the sight sent little hot air balloons spinning through his chest like it was black-and-white '30s Kansas in there. "Yeah. You wanted to bond me on the anniversary of the day we met because you're secretly a romantic sap. We couldn't get my heats on track though so we just - well, I just - convinced you to bite me into a false heat so we could get the bond to stick."

Wade found that he couldn't stop rubbing the pad of his thumb over the two puncture wounds. "You really wanted to be my mate so bad that you let me start you on a faux heat?"

Peter propped himself up on elbows, nearly headbutting Wade's nose in the process, and cranked his head as far over his shoulder as it would go.

"Even if I wasn't built to withstand your fangs as an omega, my healing factor more than makes up for it," he said, voice measured and expression guarded, like he was afraid the wrong word or motion would startle Wade away like a raccoon scuttling away from garbage bins. Not that Petey was a garbage bin. If anything, Wade was the garbage bin. Petey could be the raccoon. Or a spider. He was much cuter than a raccoon anyway. "Wade, please, trust me when I tell you: you are not capable of hurting me in any way that matters."

"Marking you, leaving on a mission, and forgetting you doesn't matter? Or it didn't hurt." Wade was being a shit. He knew he was being a shit. An obtuse shit, to boot. Peter knew it. Peter knew Wade knew it. It was obvious in the adorable scowl.

"That doesn't count and you damn well know it. You know what? Here." Peter reached over his shoulder and grabbed Wade's wrist, the one belonging to the same hand that had been tracing the bite marks, and for one heart-stopping moment, Wade knew that this was it this was when Peter was going to break his wrist or throw him off the bed or just fling him right through that closed window and make Wade pay to repair it or - or pull it under his chest so that Wade was hugging him with one arm.

Peter smiled softly and snuggled back into the pillows, head turned to one side to expose the unmarked side of his neck. The ass below Wade's dick undulated encouragingly as the omega hummed at the slide of hot flesh between his cheeks, arching himself just right to drag his puckered hole right along where he'd been begging for Wade to go.

"Like I said," Petey murmured, voice soft and almost drowsy, "I'm not going to force you to fuck me. Even if you hadn't told me about Mary, I still never would have made you. I just… I just need you here." The grip on his arm tightened, seemingly unconsciously, and the body under him curled just a little bit around the limb. "If laying on me and frotting against my ass is all you're comfortable with, then that's all I'm going to ask from you. Just… lay here until I smell like you and if you can at least like… come on my back or something, that'd be great. I promise I can be patient for you if that's what you need, but I'm greedy too, Wade."

[What the hell are you waiting for, you nincompoop! That is the definition of 'begging'!!]

{Jesus, he actually wants you. Like, straight up wants you. Ain't no one been this hard on for your dick before.}

['cept Mary. You think it's Mary again?]

{Mary can disguise herself all she wants, she can't disguise years of ingrained scent, bond bites, or Spidey's powers.}

"You really want me that bad, baby boy," he said aloud, awed. God, that's all the kid had been saying for like the last two hours, but Wade had still half-expected to be turned out any second. But here they were, nearly fuckin', and Petey was still inviting him inside ([Piiink slip, inviting me inside~]). "Like, straight up, camp-outside-for-three-days-straight, have-all-the-merch, set-an-alarm-for-when-the-tickets-go-on-sale want me."

Spidey chuckled. "Yeah, I really want you that bad. Worse, sometimes. Like knock-over-that-old-lady-and-step-on-her-grandkid bad. Steal-from-a-charity bad." His face suddenly went dark and his voice quiet. "Kill-someone bad."

Wade's heart skipped a beat. People killed for him all the time. Usually to trick him, get at him, but never to get with him. And never someone so good as Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman™. "You know, I'm real gone on you, baby doll. Drac' aint' got nothin' on me." And then he struck.

Peter shouted out wordlessly as Wade's mouth was filled with the taste of blood and a concentrated dose of the omega's scent. He might've thought it was a shout of pain if Spidey's spine hadn't arched down into the bed while his ass raised up, the space between his cheeks getting even wetter. That should do it, right?

The alpha started to pull his fangs free, but the man below him reached up and back, slapping a hand on the back of his head and shoving his fangs back into soft flesh. Peter made a wrecked sound and his hips twitched under Wade's, little pants and failed words falling from his mouth.

"Fuh- fuh- furnace," he moaned out, his hand on the back of Wade's head pushing down harder, making his fangs shift inside Petey's neck. Apparently that was hot-to-trot for omega's because his just whimpered and rolled his hips.

Wade took a single deep inhale and got nearly-drunk near-immediately on the scent of omega arousal. There was something else there, just on the edges, an after-taste, okay, a fucking after-smell whatever. Like when you think the last grenade's gone off and you've gotten used to the taste of smoke in your mouth and then bam apparently someone dropped a grenade next to a firework and you get a little zing and flash with your bang.

He opened his jaw a little wider, set straight teeth to skin, and pressed down, pressure without piercing. That fireworks shit got sharper, closer, like a Roman Candle flying at his face. Well, probably a bit more fun than that. Fireworks actually sting. And they burn his suit. Suit repair is bullshit. Which is why he ordered so many spares but he's probably gonna run out at any time.

Suddenly, it was like he got punched right between the eyes. Not with some bitch little Iron Man punch, but something more like Hulk wielding Mjolnir. Even without the slick practically gushing out just under his dick, and what was Pete's ass a fucking waterfall ({It is literally a 'fucking waterfall.}), he knew the faux heat had been jump-started. He hadn't even been sure he'd know, but he fucking knew. It was some kind of ingrained knowledge, pure instinct, screaming at him to fuck and breed.

Instincts were assholes.

Wade slowly pulled his fangs free, careful not to tug or yank them where they didn't go, and sat back on his haunches. The weird sob-whimper Peter gave where he lay twitching was nearly enough for Wade to go diving in dick-first. But nah, as much as he wanted to do that, as much as his dick and his entire jaw was throbbing encouragingly, he wanted to try to make this memorable. The good kind. More for him than Petey-Pie, since the other man could still remember their first time, but it almost felt like he needed to prove to the boxes, okay fine prove to himself, that he could really do this. That he could really take a mate and treat him the way he deserved to be treated. So sorta for Spidey too.

"Next one I know you know, so let's say it together," Peter breathed, words more breath than voice. "Fuck me."

"Fuck you," Wade groaned at the same time.

"Mmm. That's right. Brownie points to the smartest daddy I know."

Wade groaned and bent down, pressing his forehead to the sweat-slick dip at the base of Peter's still-arched spine. "Keep talking all dirty like that and I'm going to be the quickest daddy you know too."

Peter's laugh reverberated through his body, making Wade's forehead tickle. Which was fucking weird. Of all the awesome stimuli he was being bombarded with, 'tickle' was neither welcome nor awesome. "Guess you should hurry then."

He pulled away slow, trying to convince his stupid dick not to go off early and ruin the fun like that one old archer dude in Helm's Deep. He didn't wanna be that party pooper, he wanted to be the King's guard riding out all badass and beating and shedding Uruk-hai left and right. Except his dick and his jizz instead of Uruk-hai and Peter's ass instead of Helm's deep.

[That ass is holding a sign that says 'EAT ME' and you're rubbing one out to Lord of the Rings.]

Peter's asshole had, in fact, sprouted a tiny little sign that said EAT ME all cute and Wonderland style. He knew this game. Eat it to get bigger, drink it to get smaller. So did eating out a slick-dripping ass just cancel each other out?

{Less philosophical pondering, more eating the hell out of a gorgeous omega.}

"Wade? Are you-"

Wade dragged his tongue slow and easy over the loose muscle - barely resisting the urge to just go get a straw cuz fuck water this was all the hydration he needed - and Peter's ass jerked away from his mouth immediately, the scent of come spiking the air before the omega's hips even hit the bed to hump his orgasm out. The alpha sat back on his heels, the surprise so unexpected that it temporarily spiked right through the haze of heat.

"You right as cats and dogs or wrong as rain?" he asked, smoothing a hand up a trembling spine. He didn't even realize his fingers were trembling too until he went to scratch his nails up the back of Spidey's head through sweat-soaked hair.

"Right as cats and dogs," Peter chuckled, tipping his chin back in a silent encouragement for Wade to just go nuts with the cheap-ass head scalp massage. "I forgot how good your tongue feels."

"Well, I think I need to investigate some more," Wade said, mock serious. "I didn't really get a good feel for things the first time. I'm going to have to go back in."

Peter raised himself back up onto his knees, his thighs trembling flatteringly. "Eat your heart out, Daddy Zuko."

Wade paused to considering reference-making right back for all of a millisecond. But by that point, he was already jamming his tongue into a tight asshole and sucking up slick like he was a damn vacuum. Or something with a pro-biscuit. Prosthetic. Proboscis. Yeah, something with a proboscis.

Petey was a goddamn live wire and Wade had to wrap his fingers around slim hips and grip bruise-tight just to keep his scientifically-enhanced sweetie still enough to not dislodge his tongue. It was like trying to eat out a bucking bull. Not that Wade's done that. Well there was that time when he was really hungry and he was stuck in the middle of a bull farm and he tried to eat one while it was still alive. On the plus side, there was a sandwich shop next door to the morgue he woke up in, so he got to eat anyway.

By the time Wade's tongue and jaw were feeling sore from his enthusiasm and his face was drenched in slick, Peter'd come another two times just from being rimmed, and Wade's dick was gonna fall off if he waited any longer.

Petey only gave a token whimper of protest when he pulled off, but considering his second orgasm was just tapering off, he probably couldn't complain too much.

"Wade," he sighed, his hips rolling then stuttering when the tip of his probably highly sensitive dick brushed the come- and slick-soaked sheets.

"I know, baby boy," he shushed, stroking the beautifully trembling spine. And it was beautiful, well, more like mind-boggling, seeing how much Peter trusted him, how much he affected Peter. "Hold tight."

Wade spent the next few minutes stroking the body in front of him, calming it as best as an omega could really be calmed during a faux heat. Probably. He couldn't exactly remember helping an omega through their heat before, but once they stopped trembling, they were probably good to go.

He lowered himself back on top of Peter, keeping his weight evenly distributed to avoid crushing his tiny spider. Said spider that could probably have three Wades laying on him and not even notice. Hmmm… fourway with three Wades. Now there's a thought.

[You're gonna share?!]

{Aw hell no.}

Okay yeah, that was a bad idea. Even with other Wades. Omegas aren't in every verse and he'd happily kill other selves to get his mate back. The others would happily kill him to steal Peter in the first place.

Petey-Pie made an adorable, questioning sound deep in his throat and Wade dipped his head down, turning Peter's to get their mouths together. After an intense tonsil hockey match, they were both calm enough that Wade could release his mouth. Peter's face was smeared with his own slick and the alpha groaned at the sight, at the need to lick it off him. But the fucking castle of all fucking bouncy castles of asses was rubbing insistently against his dick and yeah yeah he gets the fucking hint. Impatient little shit.

The tip of his dick was resting against the tight rim when, for probably the first time ever, he's fucking pausing before he's sticking his dick in something (yeah, something; you might - or might not - be surprised at what he's stuck his dick in before, considering some of the life forms in some of the other universes).

"Don't I need to do something first? Stretch you? Lube you? Lube me? Get a condom? Put on a party hat?"

Peter huffed out a laugh. "Normally I'd say 'yes'," he croaked out, and boy doesn't he sound lovely so wrecked, "I'd have you stretch me and lube us both up, but I need you too bad to wait; a little soreness'll be worth it. And even though I thought you left me, I couldn't bear the thought of sleeping with anyone else, so I'm as clean as I was the last time we were together. Unless you-" Anxiety flooded Peter's scent so quickly that it spiked every omega-oriented instinct Wade had, including ones he didn't know he had. Which was all of them. He didn't know he still had that shit. Hopefully it was just Spidey-specific.

"I'll be honest, baby boy." Peter went trip-wire tense under him. "I was going to. I wanted to. Well, I didn't want to fuck just anyone, I just wanted to fuck. Being stuck with a half-knot is probably more painful than just going through rut. But I couldn't find anyone whose scent I could smell without ralphing so the only thing I've fucked in the last few months that's alive is my own hand. No, wait, that's a lie. I may have fucked myself. Maybe. When I was really desperate. Maybe. Mostly I just shot myself when it got to be too much."

Peter made that noise again, like he'd personally gotten shot, and then he was tilting his head forward to expose the back of his neck and dipping his spine till he's laid out right there like a fucking feast. Almost like those bars where you can do body shots or eat sushi off all the pretty girls and boys.

"What about breeding you? I gotta worry 'bout that?" he asked, trying to derail his nosy little scientist from inquiring exactly how many suicides just as much as was just trying to get all the important shit out of the way so they didn't have to worry during. "Gotta say, I know I'd love seeing you all swollen up with my kids and okay wow that's a much more appealing thought once I say it out loud, but that's probably one of those 'we should talk' talks."

"Yeah, yeah it is. But I keep on birth control to regulate my heats so we don't have to worry. I would offer a condom anyway, but we never kept them in the house after I got on the pill."

"Alright then Spidey, any last thing I need to remember? That we need to do or prep or shit, I don't know. You said I was good at this but I don't remember jack shit and I don't know what to do I'm so sorry, baby boy." Suddenly, Wade's breathing was picking up, his heart pounding and his head spinning and oh shit a panic attack.

[God you derail fast. You were literally right fucking there.]

{That was embarrassing.}

"Wade. Wade!"

A body was pushing up into his, wet spikes brushing the side of his face, and then something was pressing right up against his nose. It took a moment to register the scent of skin and sweat and blood and omega and mine, but when it did, he found himself blinking at Spidey's head, at the way his mate was holding himself off the bed to press the back of his body to the front of Wade's.

"It's okay. You're doing okay. You're fine, you're good. Come back to me, Wade," he was murmuring, head bowed, that anxiety back in his scent and making Wade itch.

Wade groaned and wrapped his arms around Peter, letting his weight settle back into Peter's and snuggling into the bitten side of his neck that Peter had worked right up against his nose.

"You don't have to do this. I'm really sorry, I'm pushing this on you and god I'm a shit mate. I'm really sorry, Wade. If you can't do this, we don't have to do this. I promise. I'm so sorry."

"Will-" he started to reply and found his throat dry.; it clicked when he swallowed. "Are faux heats as long as regular ones?" he finally got out.

Petey seemed to wiggle a little in his arms, like he was trying to get as close to Wade as he could. "No, they only last as long as it takes to get me either bred or mated."

"So I don't have to worry about food or water or cleaning you or the bed or any of that shit?" That thought, combined with Peter's persisting calm, was starting to ease the frantic pace of his heart and the worries flying through his head about how easily he could fuck this up.

"No, daddy." Wade could hear the smile in his voice and in the smug little shuffle Peter's booty made when that word made his dick twitch where it was still pressed between Peter's cheeks. "You don't have to worry about any of that. Not right now."

"Okay. Okay. I can do this." Wade bent his head further and dragged his forehead from Peter's shoulder to the space between his shoulder blades, trying to get a little distance from the potent scent so he could at least try to get his head back together, even if it wasn't going on right. He took a deep breath and let it out, fascinated by the way goosebumps popped up on the skin below his face. "Sorry for freaking on ya, babe."

"Oh my god it's fiiine," Peter groaned out unnecessarily theatrically. "Apologize again and I'll just take care of my heat by myself like I did my last two."

Wade growled and unwrapped his arms to shove Petey to the bed. "Try it and I'll blow them up. I said I was gonna fuck you and I'm going to fuck you. Keep your Deadpool panties on damn baby boy." He snapped his teeth at the air behind Petey's neck but his omega just giggled and then sighed, exposing the back of his neck.

"You'd have to get them out of the dresser first, daddy," Petey-Pie sighed all sweet as chocolate mousse.

Wade froze in the middle of sitting back on his heels. "Wait, you actually have DP Panties?"

Peter looked over his shoulder at him. "'Course I do. You got them for me yourself. You have Spider-Man panties too."

"Put a dagger in that and we'll get back to that later," Wade finally decided. "I've got promises to fulfill and shit."

"Yeah you do," Peter breathed and rolled his spine.

For the third? Second? Fourth? Five billionth?? time, Wade got his knees right under Peter's thighs and the tip of his dick right up against where Peter was still open(-ish) and soaking wet, and then paused.

"Alright. We're right back where we started." He had one hand wrapped vice-grips tight around his dick to keep it in place and to try to keep himself from just blowing it all right here right now over Peter's hole instead of in it, and he had his other one pressed to that damp coccyx to keep his honey from trying to ram himself right back onto his dick. That sounded dangerous. A bit like reverse pin-the-tail-on-the-suspect. But with potential for dick sprain. But that's a whole different kind of party. "Now's the time for any last-second mind changings, objections, over-rulings, heasays, and panic attacks."

"The defense rests," Peter groaned. "The defense is also getting restless."

"Read ya loud and clear. Let me just shake out all the cobwebs-"

"Wade-"

"I got it, I got it. No dick equals toys. Calm your perfect tits."

[Grenade approach is best. Just do it and get it over with.]

{That's the band-aid approach.}

"Alright, I'm doing it."

He licked his lips, shifted the hand on Petey's spine, adjusted the grip on his dick, and shuffled just a little further forward. Not that he could really get any closer.

"I'm going in."

Peter's asshole stared at him and he stared back down at it and then poked it with his dick.

"Get ready."

It was still staring so he slapped it with the long side of his broadsword.

"Okay-"

"Wade!"

"Okay!" Startled a bit by the shout and unsure how exactly quick or slow he should go about it, he just went with his default-cum-impatience-response and pushed right on it up to his half-knot.

"Holy-"

"Fuuuck," Peter wheezed on an exhale.

Being inside of Peter was so close to Valhalla that Wade almost discarded it as a hallucination: he was tight and wet and so fucking hot Jesus just being inside him made the rest of his body feel cold. The body below him was tense as all hell, that brown bed-head bent and pressed to the pillows, arms curled under himself, body trembling.

Slowly, Wade lowered himself down onto Peter's back, blanketing the smaller man's body with his own and caging it with his own arms. The change shifted his dick and there was a muffled sob that shook the shoulders pressed to his chest. For his own part, the alpha felt dazed, like he'd been drugged to Asgard and back, like there was no possible way this was real and maybe he'd been gassed. But no, Peter was under him, around him, shuddering in his arms and so hot and tight and wet and god, how could Wade have forgotten?

As badly as he wanted to start fucking his baby boy, he wanted to wait for said baby boy to relax into the feeling, but minutes passed and Petey was still trembling like Bob faced with a pack of kittens and and little sobs were still being gasped into the pillows. There was no scent of fear or anxiety, or anything other than arousal really, and Wade didn't know what to do or what he'd done wrong. He may not remember doing any of this, with Petey or anyone else, but he was pretty sure this wasn't right.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered his nose to the blood-dabbed sweat gland and nuzzled gently. "You scared, baby boy?" he finally asked. It was the emotion he was faced with the most, and he didn't know what else to ask so again, back to the defaults. Always to the defaults.

He needed to jack Cable's time-shit and go back and figure out who shot him in the head so he could take his time eviscerating them.

"Only that you'll stop," Peter gasped and shit that sounded like he was crying.

"Fuck, did I hurt you, baby boy? Why you crying? You gotta tell me when I do wrong I don't remember!" There he was, a heartbeat from another panic attack when Peter shook his head vigorously.

"God, no, nothing like that. Jesus Wade, haven't I always gave as good as I got?" Okay yeah he had a point there. "I just… fuck, I've missed you so much. I forgot what you felt like and to have you inside of me again…" Peter trailed off but he turned his head to blink a bleary at at Wade, and then clenched around Wade's dick until Wade was pressed down hard on Peter's back. "I don't know any real way to describe it except that it feels like I've been stuck outside in a blizzard for seven months and now I'm finally home and wrapped in blankets in front of the fire. I feel warm and safe again and you might be a hair shy of loving me like you used to, but you're right there and I'm already there and I know you'll get there again.

"No, the only thing I'm scared of right now is that you'll need to stop. That you'll be right there, right about to knot and mark me, and you won't be able to do it and I'll have to wait until you can. Because I'm not going to force you, but that doesn't mean I can't throw a fucking funeral for the loss."

Wade kissed him. Hard. Teeth and tongue and lips and ouch okay maybe less teeth, but more kissing. Because Peter fucking understood him, understood himself and them and how they worked together. Things Wade couldn't remember yet but Peter was right there, a Guide King if Wade so much as wanted or needed one.

"Fuck, how'd I land someone so perfect?" he whispered into Peter's mouth when his spider had to pull away to gasp for breath.

"You were you," Peter sighed between more kisses.

Wade smiled and reluctantly sat back, grabbing Peter's hips as he went and pulling that ass with him until they were both on their knees. Before Wade could warn him, Spidey's fingers were curling into the headboard. Already, that tension had left that lithe body and Wade could see the way his compliment had centered his omega. Petey was practically dangling there, body lax and waiting, ready and willing for any- and everything that Wade would give him.

"Fuck," he whispered, and then he pulled out and pushed back in.

The effect was immediate. Peter shuddered and gripped the wooden board tighter, and more slick wetted the way for Wade's dick. Which made the best picture in the fucking galaxy splitting Petey open like it was. He could almost stare at it forever, except it was just as good (better?) seeing himself pull out, seeing the way Petey's muscles tried to keep him right where he was, and then seeing himself push back in, those same muscles grabbing and pulling like Helping Hands (more like Helping Sphincters and wouldn't that have just knocked Labyrinth's rating up a notch).

His omega was silent for the first few thrusts, but the second Wade began to pick up speed, little pants and moans began to echo against the headboard and those long fingers kept wriggling, readjusting. When Wade accidentally slammed in, hard, Peter's spine dipped as he went pliant, and he let out a full on Porn Star Moan, startling Wade into stillness.

"You like it rough, baby?" he asked, startled. Well, more surprised that Peter wouldn't just tell him, but then again, Peter's concern this entire time was scaring him off so probably not so surprising. And it was always the quiet, nice, library-types that were kinky as fuck in the bedroom.

"Like you, don't I?" Peter threw over his shoulder, what little Wade could see of his face mischievous. Wade spanked him for being a little shit and then groaned when his omega clenched around him again.

"Okay, I'm going to keep this pretty vanilla for now, but I'm getting the feeling we're into some hefty shit together and I think we need to practice or something cuz yeah."

"Whatever Daddy wants," Peter breath-moaned, tilting his hips up one degree and pulling Wade a little further into him, enough to flare his rim with the size of Wade's knot.

"You are trying to kill me," he huffed as he pulled out to ram back inside. Peter didn't respond because he was too busy recording Sounds of the Porn Sea up there.

Every one of Wade's jackhammer thrusts rocked the bed and slammed the headboard into the wall while slick squelched and balls slapped. It was a full on orchestra of Sounds to Jack-Off To, featuring Peter's Filthy Mouth. Not with words, not this time, but the moans he was making would've made anyone think Wade was the second coming. Well, considering Peter's already come a few times, he was technically the second coming. Suck on that, JC.

It didn't take long for Peter to start getting tighter and tighter around him, nearly to the point that Wade couldn't pull out because Petey-Pie was fighting it too hard. An orgasm had been stewing in his balls for like seven fucking months, so he was good to go anytime, he just had to wait till Spidey got there. And Wade figured he finally was.

"C-can I knot ya, baby boy?" Wade panted out, throat fucking wrecked by how hard he'd been breathing.

Peter didn't exactly reply so much as he sobbed and let go of the headboard to drop his face to the pillows, fingers spasming in the damp fabric. Wade was already mid-thrust, and when he completed the stroke, Peter seized and then relaxed again.

"Whe- we-hen you're re- eady, Da- daddy," his adorable little omega stuttered, voice breaking even in the short words he managed. "Remember to- to bite when you do, if-f you're gonna."

"Alrighty then. Hold onto your dirty pillows," he said in a perfect English accent. Peter giggled, but Wade could see his fingers latch on tight.

It was a slow build up, even from how fast he was already going, but he didn't want to just jam it in there and rip something. Maybe to an enemy but never to his mate. His thrusts slowly picked up speed, slamming in so hard that the edge of his knot stretched the rim each time, getting it ready. It was careful, precise work, and he was careful and precise in it.

Peter was an absolute mess by the time Wade deemed him ready, and with sudden hard yank on those hips and an extra-powerful thrust forward, he shoved his knot inside and bent over Peter's back to pierce the old bond bite with his teeth.

He could feel his knot expand, growing large and hard inside the tight passage, the first burst of come shooting out into his baby making his eyes squeeze tight shut and his jaw clamp down, blood spilling into his mouth marking the bond bite as successful. Peter cried out below him and clenched like a fucking imploding star around his dick and his knot, contracting and releasing like his body was bound and fucking determined to breed him up right.

Slowly, the contractions slowed and then stopped and Spidey relaxed with it, though every couple of seconds he would shudder which would either cause Wade's dick to squirt out just a little more, or Spidey would do it after a little squirt. Just as slowly, Wade lowered himself to his side, keeping his back to the window, pulling Peter with him so he could wrap an arm tight around his mate's waist and keep a careful eye and a lazy tongue on the sluggishly-bleeding bond bite.

A few minutes later, an orgasm shot through him like a fucking rocket going off, sweeping through his unsuspecting body and erupting out his dick, biology hard at work at procreation like the shit was that horny bitch Aphrodite or whatever. He curled hard around Peter, arm tightening and forearm pushing against fragile-feeling hipbones to hold that ass even closer to his pelvis, his body instinctively trying to get every last drop of semen out of him and into his omega.

Peter didn't speak when it passed, just hummed tunelessly as he stroked Wade's forearm, still pressed against his hip bones, though no longer pushing on them, so Wade waited. He had a feeling it wasn't done yet. Sure enough, couple minutes later, BAM, another rocket orgasm. Shit rising out of nowhere, zero to sixty in three fucking seconds. Well, just regular seconds, cuz there weren't no fucking no more. Nothing more that Wade grinding his hips into that cushy ass.

It happened four more fucking times and when his knot finally went down and his dick slipped free with a rush of slick and come (ew gross he was gonna change the bed sheets and fuck maybe the mattress too as soon as he got up how the fuck did omegas deal with this shit), he felt dazed and dehydrated. Kinda floaty. Like he came his brain or something.

"You okay?" Peter asked, turning in his arms and snuggling against his chest.

"Feeling a bit like that kid in Scary Movie, but yeah, I could go with 'okay'," Wade replied, reaching up with a shaking hand to stroke Petey's hair back. His baby boy was covered with sweat and he looked tired as fuck, but his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were dazed, and his smile bright and dopey. All in all, it looked like a pretty solid win. "Shouldn't I be asking you that though?"

Peter chuckled and closed his eyes, snuggling as deep as he could under Wade's chin, curling his arms between their chests, shoulders hunched like he was waiting for Wade to wrap his arm around them. So he did. Then he sat up, grabbed the sheet in a tangled heap at the foot of the bed, shook it out, and let it drape over them like a parachute as he laid back down. His arm went right around those deceptively small shoulders, because his bicep was practically the size of Petey's head but the kid could kick his ass 10 days out of 9, and held him down tight.

"Mmm, I'm fine, Daddy," he hummed. "Perfect." Wade couldn't really argue with that because he was. He was also kinda 'glowing' in that way people usually talk about pregnant people: dopey smiles and chill bods and just general monk-level contentedness. "Thank you."

Wade, who had been slipping into sleep because holy shit heats were like next level sex workouts, jerked back awake.

"What what? Thanks for what?"

"For trusting me again." Lips pressed to his chest, right over his heart, and he breathed a sigh into Petey's hair. "You trusted me enough to let me see your face and your skin, you fucked me again, knotted me again, mated me again. Even though you don't know as much about me right now as you did last time we mated. You still know me and you trusted me with you. I know what that means to you so I know what it means when you let me do… anything really. I told you, Wade. You fucking spoil me."

"Gotta fucking spoil you, don't I?" he mused, rubbing his hand down Petey's spine and back up. "You're my baby boy, aren't you?"

"Always," Peter whispered into his chest, and Wade was suddenly hit with like… the mother of all protective/possessive feelings and he pushed a fierce kiss to Peter's hair.

"Can I fuck you again?"

"Already?" Peter laughed, rolling onto his back to look up at Wade.

"Well you're being all emotional and shit and I'm getting all emotional and shit and it's not cool so I gotta fuck you. Okay I lied it's kinda cool but it also just makes me wanna be inside you again."

His mate - god, he would never get tired of saying or thinking that - laughed again. "As long you remember that my heat's up cuz the mating completed and that I don't heal as fast as you so I might not actually get hard."

"Cool cool. Can I fuck you facing you too? Like this?" he asked, getting to his knees and shuffling his way between Peter's thighs so he could see his baby boy all laid out like a come-streaked treat.

"Anything my alpha wants."

Wade hadn't known anything could make him harder than Peter calling him 'Daddy', but apparently 'my alpha' was even better, and he wondered exactly it would feel like when Peter called him his mate. He was back inside his baby boy in two seconds flat.

And Peter's calculations were apparently a bit off because he got hard in four minutes, and Wade was able to knot him and get him off another three times before he passed out.

Even though Peter gave him permission to keep going if he fell asleep, Wade didn't want his omega to be asleep when he was knotting him. Maybe once he got used to Peter again they could go wild with somnophilia because that was a whole bucket of fun, but for now, he needed that instantaneous feedback and quality assurance.

Instead, he decided to go with one of Petey's earlier requests, and jerked off all over his mate's back first, rubbing his come into his baby's boy's skin, before flipping him over and doing the same to his front. It left the omega drenched in his scent, which filled him with an alpha sort of satisfaction, knowing what's his had been marked as such, so that anyone passing by Petey on the streets would know that he had an alpha he trusted and loved enough to mark him all over.

Yeah, hella satisfying.

Wade fell asleep with his dick hard again, but ignored, and his mate wrapped in his arms where he felt right.



"Parker, get in here!"

Peter rolled his eyes at Betty as he walked by her on the way into Jameson's office (where he'd already been walking anyway, which Jameson could see with his all-glass wall), and she smiled back at him with her typical long-suffering empathy.

"Yes, Mr. Jameson?" he asked dryly, adjusting the strap on his messenger back.

"Where's those photos? And what's that smell? You smell terrible! Hoffman!" he shouted in typical rapid-fire.

Hoffman poked his head in the door. "Yes?"

"Get Parker a bar of soap!" he demanded around his ever-lit cigar.

"I've already showered, Mr. Jameson," Peter told him. "Washed with shampoo and soap and everything."

"Don't give me that sass. You smell terrible. You get dropped in garbage on your way in? Betty! Tell Parker how terrible he smells!"

It was a good thing he was already used to Wade's own rambling speech. At least Jameson followed the same train of thought, even if it was at 100 mph.

Betty swept in and dropped a cup of coffee on Jameson's desk. "Your wife is on line one, again, and Peter, congratulations on your mating," she said with a soft smile, patting his shoulder. She paused right in the doorway and pointed at Jameson. "Wife, line one."

"You're mated? You don't even have a boyfriend!" Jameson exclaimed. And it was a miracle he even knew that. Well, he probably didn't know that, he probably just assumed someone's only life was the Bugle.

"No, I don't, but I did have a mate seven months ago," he reminded the beta. And the fact that Jameson of all people was a beta had always cracked him up. Alpha personality, all the way, but he was born a beta and he identified that way.

"You've never been mated!" And that settled it - Bugle-only life it was.

"I called out sick because my alpha died and my bond broke." The memory of that moment still hurt. It was easier to bear now that Wade was back, but they'd only gotten a few days with each other. It was going to take a hell of a lot longer than that for them to heal properly.

"Don't remember."

"I was gone for a month? You sent Hoffman to my apartment."

"Nope."

"Then you came over yourself. In fact, I think you broke in and shoved me in the shower."

"You were dirty as hell. You hadn't showered in a month."

Peter rolled his eyes. Logic and common sense were always a losing battle when it came to Jameson and the man would never admit to having been wrong if God himself came down and demanded he be honest. "So, I don't have any pictures for you. Like I told you. In email. And on the phone. I told you I was busy. With my mate?"

"Whatever," Jameson waved off, bending forward to scribble something on one of those little papers he was always making Peter hand to Betty to get paid. "Here, Christmas bonus," he grunted, tossing the thin receipt towards Peter and puffing out smoke like a damn steam engine.

"It's July."

"You want me to sing you a carol? Get out!"

Peter swore he never rolled his eyes as much as he did in Jameson's office. He smiled tightly as he got up and walked out, passing the paper to Betty's waiting hand.

"Maybe he does like you after all," she mused, smiling down at the paper and then at her monitor as she transcribed the transaction. "Even Hoffman didn't get a mating bonus. I think Jameson actually thinks he's still a bachelor."

"I think Jameson just wants us to think he doesn't remember anything about any of us," Peter laughed. And then choked on his laughter when Betty handed him cash. "Are you sure this is right?"

Betty gave him a look. "When have you known Jameson to ever give someone the wrong amount. The only typo he makes is an underpayment." He couldn't really argue that. "So, tell me about his new mate of yours. You never said you were dating anyone."

"That's because I wasn't," he laughed. "My mate from before, he'd gone on a trip overseas, and I felt him die, felt the bond break." Betty didn't gasp, she already knew what had happened, but she did tear up a little as she nodded. "Turns out, he technically did die, but he was resuscitated and he's been in a coma as a John Doe in one of those tiny village hospitals that can barely get the proper medication, much less update records in a computer system."

Betty gasped, her hand slapping over her mouth. This time she did actually cry. Well, he got one tear out of it, but from a Philly native and a long-time NYC inhabitant, that was practically a waterfall.

"So, he came storming back into you life like some kind of superhero?" she asked, her whisper loud and theatrical, suspenseful.

Peter remembered walking into that Stark Tower room and finding Wade trying to fight Iron Man and Hulk, and winced. "Yeah, something like that."

She laughed, but she had no idea. The amount of destruction Wade was capable of was greater than the aliens that had attacked New York had managed. And he would do it gleefully.

"Well, maybe take a little of that bonus, and treat that alpha of yours to a nice dinner. That way when he gets a new job again, he can make it all up to you, " she suggested.

"Maybe I'll do that", Peter said with a smile. "Thanks again." He saluted her with the cash before stuffing it in his pocket and heading out the door.

He'd barely made it out of the lobby before he was being accosted from behind, thick arms wrapping around his shoulders and scarred flesh nuzzling at the curve of his neck.

"Missed ya, baby boy," Wade whispered, sending heat flaring across Peter's skin and making him shudder.

"I was gone half an hour!" Peter exclaimed with a laugh, but secretly, the sentiment was both returned and appreciated. Weirdly, or maybe not so much, he liked that it was equally hard for them to be away from one another, that Wade had just as difficult a time with it as he did.

"Sounds like half an hour too long to me," Wade grumbled, stepping back only long enough to twirl Peter around.

Just like every time his alpha went out as Wade rather than Deadpool, there was a hologram in place to disguise his features. Peter had worked in a RANDOM feature back when they were still dating, which Wade usually used when he went out, but for the sake of continuity (okay fine only because Mrs. Toprak started asking when he had time for so many suitors), he typically used the same blond-haired, blue-eyed, devastatingly-handsome face. It was the kind of face that, on anyone else, probably would have made Peter a little damp because damn, but he was apparently shallow enough to want to see his mate's face when he kissed him. It just… made him cringe to watch any face except Wade's moving in close.

So, Peter wrapped his arms around Wade's next, closed his eyes, and kissed him. Luckily, it was just a hologram, so it did nothing to actually disguise his alpha's proper touch, and he relaxed at the sensation of scarred cheeks brushing his and a gloveless, scarred hand sliding under his shirts to palm the base of his spine. Undemanding but unyielding pressure pushed his hips forward while Wade bent further and further over him, pushing him into so much of a bend that, even with his super powers, he had to rely on Wade to keep him up.

That hadn't changed either. Wade had always been in the habit of holding Peter as close as was humanly possible, whether it was while they were fucking or kissing or just chilling on the couch. It was… a massive relief to find that that hadn't changed with the amnesia because it had always made him feel so loved and, oddly, protected, though that was was the last thing he needed from anyone. He'd never been able to figure out if it was because he was an omega and Wade was an alpha, or because he was who Wade was so thoroughly in love with.

"We should," he gasped, trying to pull his mouth from Wade's and succeeding for only a second at a time, "probably - move - hah - away - from - my work's - lobby."

"Why?" Wade murmured back. "Let them see you're mine."

If they were at any other point in their relationship, Peter would have shoved him off and called him a neanderthal, and Wade would have laughed, but as frustrating as having to continuously reassure one another was, it was the most necessary thing they'd ever needed to do.

"It's not professional," he finally managed to counter.

"Babe, I put the 'unprofessional' in 'professional ass-ass-in'."

Peter laughed and shoved him away anyway, still smiling. Wade's hand lingered against his back for a moment before sliding away, and it was a comfort to find him smiling too. "C'mon. I promised you food and you promised I could pick this time. I've been feeling Italian."

Wade, as usual, protested the consumption of anything not-chimichangas until Peter started listing all of Wade's favourite dishes, and somehow, from there, it snowballed into Wade educating him on first the Leaning Tower and how the 'Leaning' part of the Tower wasn't his fault (it was), then moved into an extensive history of all the things that were invented by mistake like Velcro and chocolate chip cookies (they have to make a pit stop at the bakery for some and end up walking out with two of everything).

When they finally step out of their favourite Italian joint, both of their arms are laden with bags of more pastries and Italian than should be possible for two men to consume (but it would all be gone before lunch tomorrow). Peter felt light and happy, almost bubbly with glee at being back with his alpha, his mate, again, and he wasn't exactly paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should have been. Which is why he didn't see the familiar red-headed alpha until she collided with his chest.

"Peter!" Mary Jane Watson greeted, smiling cheerfully as she wrapped his neck in a hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Hey MJ," he replied, trying to step back out of her reach, but her arms were just this side of too tight, and he wouldn't be able to break her hold without hurting her. Or spilling their food.

"What are you up to?" she asked, finally pulling away though her hands lingered on his shoulder for far too long.

She'd always been a little too friendly, a little too handsy, but he'd been able to deal with it alright right up until Wade had died, and then she'd gotten worse, a predator sensing a weakness, an opening. He'd done everything to dissuade her from trying to court him except for being right-out rude because despite her unwanted advances, she was still a good friend.

"We're just getting some food before we head home," he told her, hefting up the bags in demonstration. "We weren't even going to leave the apartment today, but Jameson called and, well, you know Jameson," he laughed.

Mary Jane took a long, slow look at Wade, her eyes scanning slow down his body before scanning back up, lingering on his face. She smiled slow and sensual, her hip slowly canting out to the side. She wasn't secondgender-gay, but she had always been turned by a pretty face. Which didn't really explain her temporary interest in Harry, or her persistent interest in him, but then again, Harry was brilliant and rich (a beta), and Peter was brilliant and unavailable.

"And who are you?" she asked, voice low and seductive and exactly the kind of thing that would have worked on pre-Wade Peter. And kind of had, their freshman year.

Peter looked over his shoulder to where Wade had been lingering, ready with a pleading expression to be nice and please don't kill her, but Wade was smiling genially, bags switched over to one arm so he could hold out the other hand for a handshake.

"Hey gorgeous. Call me Ryan," he greeted her, surprising Peter by how weirdly genuine he sounded as he shook her hand. Still, he'd slipped his gloves back on when Peter hadn't been looking, hiding the scars the facial-hologram didn't cover and couldn't disguise.

"Hello, Ryan," she smiled softly. "And how do you know Peter?"

It sounded like a challenge, and Peter almost wanted to warn her because she was about to lose. Potentially painfully depending on how spiteful Wade was feeling. Almost.

"Oh, I've been spending the last few days with him," Wade replied, that smile still on his face. That smile that Peter was starting to get suspicious about. "You know, just reacquainting my knot with that perky little butt we all know and love."

Peter groaned and rolled his eyes skyward, and only kept from pinching the bridge of his because the bags would've made it difficult. He didn't know why he hadn't expected Wade to be so vulgar; he knew better.

Mary Jane didn't, however, and she was visibly taken aback, her eyes wide. For a moment, she wavered on her feet like she was going to step back and decided last second not to. She struggled for words for a minute before finally settling on something.

"I'm sorry, did you say 'reacquainting'?" she asked, eyes narrowed and darting between them.

"MJ, this is my mate," Peter explained, waving a bag-laden arm at his alpha.

"You already got another one?" she asked, surprised and, if he was reading her right, annoyed.

"Nope, same one," he said with a tight smile.

"Didn't you die?" she asked Wade directly, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Came back all alpha-in-dirty-armor like. Had to come save my omega-in-distress. Not that my Petey usually needs saving. He's sort of his own knight. Except for this time. It was a two-man mission. Specifically a Petey-and-me mission. A No Girls Allowed club. We can make a tree house and put a sign up. Ooh, Petey, a tree house! We should get in on that! Tree houses rock!"

Peter couldn't help but smile at the suddenly-childish expression and glee, accompanied by Wade bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Need a tree first, babe," he reminded him, his expression feeling soft. Wade's rants might be irritants to everyone else, but they were the audio equivalent of comfort food for Peter. Comfort sounds. Comfort audio. It was one of the things he missed the most about Wade, after Wade's face, his scent, his touch, his- fine, his everything. Peter had missed fucking everything about him, including - ugh - his table manners.

It was weird. He spent seven months expecting Wade around every corner - singing in the bathtub, cleaning his guns on the sofa, eating in the kitchen, sneaking out for an assassination in the alley - and now that he was back, doing all of those, except the last one since he refused to leave Peter's side (though that was only a matter of time too), he was catching Peter by surprise because he was so used to being disappointed that his mate wasn't there. Enough so that his heart still gave that sick little lurch right before he entered a room in their apartment.

"Woops, there's the Bat Signal!" The sudden chirp from Wade had Peter blinking and he realized he'd spiraled into his thoughts; you weren't supposed to be lamenting for the loss of something you got back, but apparently Peter's Teen Angst was on the rise again. He glanced at MJ to see if she was offended by his lapse and found her frowning and her nostrils flaring.

"Sorry, what bat signal?" he asked, cringing internally at having zoned out. A little externally too. There was at least a wince.

"Lemme just turn that off reeeaaal quick." A gloveless, scarred hand clamped over the back of his neck, exerting pressure directly on his bond bite, and a rush of arousal and pleasure like a slow build orgasm swept through him, making him hard and a bit wet and weak in the knees.

"What are you doing?" MJ hissed from somewhere far away.

"Turning off the Bat Signal!" he replied in a tone that very clearly said 'duh'.

The pressure on his neck increased, turning his body into a wobbling Jenga tower made of Jello shots as he was maneuvered against Wade's chest. Automatically, he tilted his chin up, pressing his nose against where Wade's scent was strongest.

One day, he would not be so needy. But it wasn't going to be today. And if anyone wanted to shame him for it, he'd web them to the Empire State Building. Or the bridge. Anything terrifyingly tall.

"That is highly inappropriate!" MJ was still hissing somewhere behind Peter, sounding increasingly affronted. "Why don't you just bend him over and knot him in public?!"

"I wasn't going to say anything, but if you really think it'd help…" Wade trailed off and Peter tracked a warm hand against his back sliding down down down right into his jeans, gripping an ass cheek tightly. One finger traced his crack without pressing between and he made a sound deep in his throat that was probably half disappointment at being teased, half disapproval/annoyance at being teased in public and in front of someone he was going to half to look in the face later.

"No! God, what the hell is wrong with you, you freak?" Her words set off… not quite alarm bells like his Spidey Sense when some shit was about to go down, but more Protective Mate alarm bells. Wade was guaranteed to wave it off as 'having heard worse' later, but Peter knew it would nag at him for hours at the least. "Peter, why are you even with someone like- like him?"

She said 'him' like she would describe the shit she scraped off her shoe. Peter locked down his muscles to keep from reacting, from doing or saying something stupid, and the vigor with which he nuzzled deeper into Wade's neck probably hurt Wade's scars, but Wade's grip on his neck just tightened further, pushing him, keeping him there. It wasn't until he did that that Peter realized he was doing his second-best statue impression too.

"Pretty isn't going to save you much longer if you're going to keep insulting Petey," Wade said, voice gone low and dangerous; a warning.

MJ… didn't quite listen.

"Peter! We've been friends ten times as long as you've known this jerk. Are you really going to let him talk to me like that?"

"It's lookin' like it," Peter replied, voice muffled from where his face was smushed against his alpha's neck and slurred from his general unwillingness to speak.

"What? Why?!"

"Because he's my good boy, aren't you baby?" Wade asked, voice light and palm tight.

Peter hummed and huddled closer and kinda wished for an alien attack just they could get away and his riled omega-nerves could settle the fuck down. He could technically walk away right now. He wasn't glued to Wade like some omegas got stuck into being, he was fully capable of peeling himself away and either facing MJ or walking away. But he didn't want to.

Right here in the middle of New York on one of her quieter streets, held tight against his mate, was comfy and comforting as fuck and he wasn't going to let go for anything short of that alien invasion. Or maybe an invite to join the Avengers. Or-

"Are you calling him a dog?!"

Peter sighed.

"Nah, my sweetie's much better than a dog. Even Ein."

Alien invasion alien invasion the courage and the desire to actually walk the fuck away alien invasion alien invasion alien invasion-

"Sorry that took so long, MJ. I- Peter!"

Peter's head snapped up, pulling him from his comforting half zone-out, rudely so when Wade's hand was dislodged from its vice over his bond bite. He definitely hit Wade's chin with his head and holy hell that hurt but Harry was standing right there, arm sliding around MJ's shoulders on a loose embrace, blinking at the two of them in surprise, and Wade with a wary suspicion.

"What're you up to? And I don't think I've met you…?" Harry trailed off slowly, holding out his hand.

"Peter's mate," Wade said, shaking Harry's hand with a strength Peter hoped wasn't 'crushing'. "Call me Ryan."

"'Mate'?! Well, I um-" Harry coughed, eyes way up in his hairline. "Uh, Harry. Osborn. Harry Osborn. Been friends with Peter since we roomed together in the dorms freshman year. Which is why I'm surprised that I've never heard of you?"

"It's the one that died, Har'," MJ said before either Peter or Wade could say anything, crossing her arms and popping out a hip so fast that Peter half-expected it to actually pop out of socket.

"W-what?"Harry stuttered, and wow Peter should have had his phone out because that expression was hilarious.

"He was a John Doe in a coma till he woke up," Peter explained as Wade's bag-free arm settled around his shoulders in a mirror of Harry and MJ's positions. He wanted to put their cover story out there before Wade could try and end up with something else.

MJ was one thing, an alpha, a little shallow, prone to fits of territorialism even with Peter even though she never really claimed him any other time. But Harry was a little more centered as a beta, and had always stood at Peter's side. He was a friend Peter would mind losing.

"Oh! Well, that's great then! I've heard- well, I haven't actually heard a lot about you, but I have heard how he feels about you. As if how he took your apparently-temporary death wasn't enough!" Harry laughed, completely ignoring Peter's subtle head shake.

Wade shifted at his side and Peter took a step closer to him, pressing his shoulder into Wade's chest to balance the both of them against Harry's accidental reminder. Harry, who was always a lot better at picking up queues (maybe because he actually cared more), shifted in sympathy and his expression turned abashed.

"Well, on that note, you two probably still have a lot to talk about. Peter? Text me when you're a little more settled. I want to meet this alpha of yours. Properly."

"You got it, Harry," Peter agreed with a smile.

Wade's hand lifted from his shoulder in a goodbye as they watched Harry and MJ walk away and disappear around the corner.

"Wade," Peter said, breaking the silence between them.

"Yeah, baby boy?" pressing a kiss to his temple before nuzzling the same spot.

"I told you not to grab my bond bite in public like that."

"Sorry, forgot."

"It was yesterday."

"Wow, time flies."

"Mhm," Peter huffed and rolled his eyes. "Now, let's get this food home. We're going to half to reheat half of it anyway."

Wade was silent and kept his arm around Peter's shoulders the rest of the way home, though he didn't grab the bite mark again. He did sweep his thumb over the bottom ridge of the scar sporadically, though there was no rhyme or reason to it that Peter could see, so he left it alone. Plus, it left him a little touch-high without making him unbearably hard, so it kept him in a nice buzz all the way home.

His alpha remained silent as they settled in with their food and a movie, and Peter knew he had something on his mind, either one of his insecurities, or something to do with his spot in Peter's life now that he was back. Peter left him to it, curling into a small ball against Wade's side and under his arm - comfort for the both of them. He almost fell asleep too, lured into a light doze by the gentle nails scraping over his skull and the familiarity of the thickly muscled body under his own.

"You still smell like her," Wade said suddenly, startling Peter into wakefulness.

"Yeah?" he murmured, then groaned as he sat up and stretched, rolling the kinks out of his neck. "You just want me to shower or you wanna come on me?"

Wade froze where he sat, his eyes where they still facing the TV growing wide. "Is that on the table?"

"Instead of the bed?" Peter mused out loud, playing stupid. "I guess it would be cleaner than the bed if you're messy, though you're going to have to stand. Mmm that sounds hot actually, me naked laying on the coffee table, you still dressed, standing over me, jerking off till you come all over my chest, maybe some on my face…"

The scent of alpha arousal was an intoxicating scent in his nose and he sucked in a deep breath, letting it ignite and feed his own growing arousal. He turned to watch his mate and found him locked in place, fingers curled and white-knuckled around the arm of the couch. Smiling to himself, he sat forward to move his more delicate experiments from the coffee table to the floor and sweeping the rest off. He stood up, stripped, and crawled onto the top, turning and flopping onto his back, hissing at the slight chill against his heated skin. When he let his head roll towards Wade, he found him panting from between slightly elongated fangs.

"You know you want to do it, daddy," he murmured, placing a hand in the crease of his thigh and dragging it up his chest.

Wade groaned and stepped up onto the table, civie sneakers planted on either side of Peter's naked hips. Peter played with the hem on both pant legs and then traced the in-seam up Wade's legs till he was teasing rock hard inner thighs. He pinched the denim between his forefingers and thumbs, and tugged pointedly. Wade looked down at him, god he was standing so high, towering above him, and that pleased something in Peter, and slowly pulled down the zip on his jeans. "As some old southern lady in a movie would probably say, 'You got the devil in you, boy.'"

"No, I don't," Peter immediately retorted, affronted. He licked his lips and dropped his chin to look up at his mate through his eyelashes. "Not yet."

"Fuck, baby boy, the mouth on you," Wade moaned, eyes closing and head dropping back as his hand slid into his pants. A moment later, he pulled it back out, fisted around his cock, his knot slightly swollen on the other side of his grasp.

"I can tell you I'm a lot better to look at than the back of your eyelids, daddy," he whispered.

Wade opened his eyes and huffed in a sharp breath, his hand clenching tight around his dick, the second he set his eyes back on Peter.

As soon as his alpha had closed his eyes, Peter had slid his hand back down his chest and kept going down between his legs. He was already wet, and once his fingers were too, he traced a line with them up his happy trail and along his sternum to his throat. He knew that there was a glistening trail of slick like a target, and Wade was drawn to it like a mouthy merc to a chimichanga stand.

Wade wasn't gentle with himself. He wasn't circumcised, so it wasn't the bloody mess it probably could have been (knowing Wade, thank god), but it wasn't exactly pretty. It was, however, hot as hell because it was so desperate. Peter gave up all pretense of simply watching the show and began to contribute.

Peter wrapped a hand around his own dick, grip looser than Wade's, and stroked it slow. The callouses on his hand, as always, sent sparks through his nerves and he rolled his hips into the next stroke, humming in pleasure. He kept his hips still for the next stroke and the one after that, letting his arousal burn low and smooth. In this, it wasn't exactly important that he came, just that his mate did.

It was going to be quick too, he could tell. He'd been on a hair trigger like he was a teen again ever since Wade had stepped back in the city. He'd been masturbating (and crying) like crazy for the last few weeks, and he still couldn't get enough. He'd say Wade couldn't either, but the silly man had been stubbornly… he would say 'considerate' if Peter didn't need him so badly, so it was probably back to the basics with 'insecure'.

Peter swept his palm and then the pad of his thumb over the head of his dick to break himself from his thoughts. The scrape of calloused flesh against his sensitive slit sent made his body jolt and he threw back his head, trying to keep it from overwhelming him so quickly and ended up knocking his head against the wood. He knew it exposed his throat however, so he milked it for all it's worth.

"C'mon, daddy. Mark me up," he whispered, stroking himself even quicker.

"That mouth is going to get you into trouble," Wade grumbled, the hand not jerking himself off clenched in his jeans.

Peter snaked his free hand up Wade's pant leg to wrap his fingers around his alpha's scarred ankle. "Already did," he replied, squeezing meaningfully. "Rather, trouble got into me," he panted.

"Fuuuck," Wade breathed out, and the first drops of come dripped onto Peter's stomach.

Semen shot up his torso and onto his face, drops thick and plentiful, painting him like a Pollock: an absolute mess. Knowing his words were enough to get Wade to come was enough to get him to come, and his own much smaller ejaculation dribbled onto his belly to join the start of Wade's.

It wasn't a particularly strong orgasm, not by far, so it didn't take very long to come back from it, but the fact that it was caused by his mate marking him did make it a particularly satisfying orgasm, and it left him with that little mate-high.

Peter lazily swirled the forefinger of the hand he'd jerked off with through through the puddle of come on his stomach, humming softly under his breath. His eyes were closed, the coffee table hard under his back, Wade's feet and ankles reassuring pressure against his ribs, his body overly warm from his arousal but cooling rapidly from the drying sweat, Wade's ankle solid under his trembling fingers.

The table creaked as Wade went to his knees, dislodging the hand around his ankle and absolutely adorable in the way he carefully settled his weight as he straddled Peter's waist. Peter's wrist was grabbed, his hand lifted, and his finger sucked into a wet mouth, cleaning it of their combined essence. He opened his eyes and found Wade staring down at him as a tongue swirled around his finger. Very erotic. Intimate. Enough so that it stole Peter's breath and left him half-hard. Wade was already fully hard again, but he didn't seem to notice.

When Wade finally released him, he didn't just drop Peter's wrist, but gently placed it on his own thigh. Peter moved his other hand to Wade's other thigh to match.

"Good boy," Wade murmured, making Peter smile softly.

Two hands, warm, heavy, scarred, pressed against his belly. It made him feel equally vulnerable and safe, exposed and sheltered. As someone who spent so much time behind a mask, it was… exhilarating. They smoothed up his body, smearing the come, working it into the skin of his stomach and chest. Wade was thorough, covering all of him, and when fingers brushed his collarbones, he tilted his head back, exposing his neck in a move of absolute trust. Wade's fingers only paused for a moment before he took Peter up on his offer, both hands covering his neck, thumbs over his trachea. He only remained there a minute before moving on to his face, but it was there he lingered.

Careful thumbs brushed over his chin and his philtrum. Curved lovingly over his cheekbones and made circles on his cheeks. A brief sweep down the curves of his ears and back up the back of them. When they swiped across his forehead, he deepened his voice and said, "Siiimba." Wade's thumbs stuttered on their travels down the length of Peter's nose, and there was silence on the other side of his closed eyelids. He couldn't help it. He giggled.

He cracked his eyes and found Wade staring down at him with utter awe, and his mate's expression was enough to kill his laughter in equal awe. Suddenly, his alpha moved his hands to Peter's cheeks and swooped down to press their lips together. A fierce kiss.

"After all the shit in my life," Wade whispered into his mouth, pressing their foreheads together, "that's been done to me, that I've done, how did I scrape together the luck to get you?"

"Well, all that shit made you you, and that's the you that I fell in love with," Peter replied simply.

Wade closed his eyes and kissed him again and again and again, until Peter was breathless.

Peter was already hard again, his erection pressed against Wade's ass, and Wade's own renewed erection stuck between their bellies, and yet, neither of them made a move to try to start something again. It was comfort, plain and simple.

When Wade finally moved to pull away from Peter, their foreheads stuck together where the come had dried between them. Peter wrinkled his nose and jerked his head back, wincing at the separation.

"You smell amazing right now, but that was kinda gross," Wade grumbled, sitting then standing up before dropping back onto the couch.

Peter rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand, watching his mate with an amused smile. Wade stared back at him, then patted his lap. Peter scrambled off the table and clambered into Wade's lap, curling against his chest in the corner of the couch. Two thick arms wrapped tight around his waist and a nose nuzzled into the the curve of his neck.

"You've got until the end of the movie before we're taking a shower," Peter told him without looking at him.

Wade laughed and pressed a kiss to his temple. "Whatever you want, Petey."


Gentle hands rolling him onto his back woke Peter up and he grumbled in irritation at being moved. A warm naked body settled between his legs and blanketed itself over him, pinning him to the bed. Laughter was huffed into neck and followed by a kiss.

"Who disturbs my slumber," Peter grumbled because apparently he was on a Disney kick today. He stubbornly kept his eyes closed, but he let himself be manhandled however his mate wanted him.

"Just your friendly neighborhood merc with The Mouth. Capitalized, Spidey," Wade emphasized against his neck. He seemed content to remain there, not kissing, not biting, not trying to start anything, just… breathing him in. It was a special sensation of wanted: just his being there being enough for his mate.

"Mmm…" Peter hummed. " What time is it?"

"Like three AM or something." Peter could almost hear the dismissive wave of his alpha's hand. "Can I fuck you?"

Peter didn't answer immediately, taking a moment to figure out why Wade was asking for the first time since he'd come back. The only thing that was different was...

"Thought you already got her off of me," he mumbled, tilting his chin back to encourage more nuzzling. Wade's lips tickled, but it was the good kind, not the itchy kind. The kind that made him giggle.

"I think I missed a spot," Wade replied, rocking his hips downward and grinding an erection Peter hadn't realized he had into his thigh.

"I'm not going to help," he warned. "Too tired."

"That's fine, darlin'." Wade's accent had suddenly become an exacerbated Southern accent, like the one he'd used when he was mocking Peter for his confession three days ago. "So, we gots ourselves an accord then, Mistah Pa'ka'?

Peter chuckled and adopted the same accent, or his best approximation of it. "Yeah, we gots ourselves an accord, Mistah Wilson."

Peter was already naked from the shower they'd had earlier, the one where Wade had dotingly scrubbed him clean and then took him to bed, tucking him in all nice and neat, and then messing it up by squirming his way into the sheets and curling around Peter.

His legs were already parted from where Wade was wedged between them, but then his ass was lifted on top of Wade's thighs, propping him up. Wet fingers traced his perineum and then the tips of two pushed into him.

"Hngh," he couldn't help but groan, breathing in deep as just Wade's fingertips pulled out then pushed back in, time and again, loosening him without pushing in too deep, without trying too hard. He was never opposed to a rough prepping, or fucking, but when he needed it slow, god Wade was perfect at it. Fuck, he was perfect at the rough stuff too. He was perfect at being Peter's alpha. "You already lubed up?"

"Yeah. Been thinking about being in you for hours," Wade said as he kept fingering him open, slowly pushing more and more of those two fingers in. "Well, I've been thinking about it since the last time I was inside you, but I really started imaging it today when you crawled in my lap. Really wanted you to ride me. Thought about pulling my dick back out pulling you onto it, just have you sitting in my lap, on my dick. Didn't even necessarily want you to fuck yourself on me, just… wanted to be inside you. Wanted to knot you just so you would be stuck in my lap and couldn't leave."

"Jesus, Wade," Peter groaned, both at the words and at the sensation of his alpha finally sliding the full length of his two fingers into him. The barest brush against his prostate had his back arching up into Wade's chest, his body lit up like a live wire.

"Thought about fingering you open while you were sleeping. 'Bout getting you nice and wet and ready and open." Wade pulled out and Peter whined in desperation, but his body was too muddled from exhaustion and sleep to reach out and grab for him. Hands gripped under his knees, lifting his legs over broad shoulders, the position nearly bending him in half as Wade leaned in close enough to send hot breath across Peter's face. The blunt head of Wade's cock pressed against him, but didn't push in. "Thought about pushing into you just like this," he continued against Peter's mouth - a non-kiss, demonstrating. Slowly. So slowly that it was like torture. He'd forgotten how much the alpha liked teasing him."Thought about fucking you until I knotted you, and I could fall asleep like that, wrapped in all that tight wet heat, falling asleep to the beat of your heart around my knot."

Wade rocked forward suddenly, pushing fully into him, filling him. It had only been three days since they last fucked, but it felt like a lifetime.

"God, you have a mouth on you," he mumbled against his mate's lips before licking at them. Wade let him in easily, just as easily as Peter's body let him in with every excruciatingly slow thrust, but he didn't have the will for a proper kiss, so he just licked at his lips, his tongue, the roof of his mouth. Wade didn't seem to mind.

"That's my name, babe. Wear it out as much as you want. Preferably by screaming it."

"Yes, daddy."

Wade responded to his agreement with a long, deep thrust. Not short and rough, but with a full roll of his hips. Despite Peter's warning that wasn't going to participate, he found himself wanting to do just that, wanting to help his alpha get them both there. But with his legs slung over Wade's shoulders, he was immobile and entirely reliant on his mate for his pleasure. With every heavy thrust, the knot pushing against Peter was gradually swelling, stretching him wider and wider. Besides that very first thrust, this was his favourite part, feeling his mate forcing his body to accept more and more of him until it swallowed him up.

"You know, I love hitting that sweet spot of yours, baby boy," Wade said suddenly, startling Peter from his spiral of pleasure.

"Why?" he gasped. "Why's that?"

"Because it makes you contract and it makes you feel like you're trying to pull me in like you need me as bad as you need air," Wade explained, running the tip of his nose across Peter's forehead and down his temple, breaking away to nip at the tip of his ear and then moving back down to steal the air from Peter's lungs through his mouth.

In one of Wade's other favourite moves, he kept kissing Peter till Peter was dizzy with the need to breath, sucking in breaths any time Wade's mouth broke from his. It didn't stop Wade from continuing to do it, chasing after Peter's mouth any time he broke away for too long. Eventually, even with Wade driving him into the bed with each powerful jerk of his hips, he stopped being able to tell which way was up and which was down.

He was spinning out of control, and it was only the knot pushing into him that centered him, pushing forcing swelling tying. Sharp lines settled over the side of his neck, over his scent gland, and it felt like he was imploding between those two points. Or like they were two black holes, tearing him in two and destroying him.

He felt like a leaf, or a balloon, floating through space and waiting to fall back to earth. It happened slow, his brain and his lungs trying to suck oxygen back in enough to bring reality back. Strains of softly-sung lyrics rustling his hair like a breeze tugged him back, guided him back to Wade.

"Yooo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want. So tell me what you what, what you really really want. I'll tell what I want-"

"You want me and I want you and then we're just turning into the Barney song so we should probably just stop there," Peter muttered, nuzzling into the broad chest he'd woken up to find himself lying against.

"Hey there, baby boy, you're back!"

Peter groaned as he sat up, blinking in the poorly-lit gloom of their bedroom with nothing but the alarm clock and the lights of the city outside the brick-facing window to give them sight. Well, give Wade sight since his powers gave him enough boost to his vision to see in the half-dark. Then he groaned again when Wade's apparently still-engaged knot shifted inside him.

While he'd been unconscious, Wade had flipped them and scooted into the corner, leaving Peter's thighs split around his waist and Peter laying against his chest, using one of his amazing pecs as a pillow. Peter shifted a little to give some relief to the stretched out inner-thigh muscles and Wade moaned, hands latching tight around Peter's waist. He pulled down as he rolled his hips up, encouraging Peter's body to milk his knot.

Peter raised his arms and wrapped them around Wade's neck, raising his chin enough so he could speak right into his mate's ear. "You know, we don't want kids right now, but sometimes, I still get that breeding instinct, you know?" He rolled his hips down-back to gyrate on his alpha's knot, then up-forward to grind his erection into Wade's stomach. Wade licked his lips, tightened his fingers on Peter's waist, the kind of tight that would bruise a lesser man and could actually bruise him for a short while, but didn't try to stop him or speak. "So even though we don't want them and I stock up on birth control like it's the apocalypse, I still really love when you come in me, and I love riding you just like this until you can't stand it. Until there's nothing left to give."

"And you called my mouth filthy," Wade breathed, that awe back in his eyes as he thrust up into Peter's subconscious rocking. "You're going to make me come again before I've even gone soft."

Peter looked him right in the eye and said, "Good."

Wade kissed him suddenly, grinding up into him almost frantically, pressing on his spine with one hand, forcing their chests together and creating a double-sided barrier for his to cock to get stroked by. The angle change pressed his alpha's knot right against his prostate, unrelenting pressure that had him coming between them in moments.

"Can you say it for me, baby boy?" Wade rasped, voice rushed and almost unintelligible through the buzz of Peter's orgasm. "Can you say what I wanna hear?"

"Yeah. Yeah," Peter gasped back, slamming his eyes closed to try and force his orgasm into not overwhelming him. "Come on, daddy. Come in me. Breed me up. Breed me full, daddy."

"Aw, fuck," Wade growled, arms locking steel-tight around Peter's body, his chin hooked over Peter's shoulder until he was caged in his mate as he came, hips pressed painfully hard up into Peter's as he was held down.

Wade twitched his way through his orgasm, little spasms that made his hips jerk up and his arms tighten sporadically. It was oddly comforting, so Peter just relaxed in the hold and enjoyed the feeling and luxuriated in the knowledge that his alpha had just technically knotted him twice and wouldn't be leaving for at least a half hour.

Peter thought Wade took a lot less time than he had to come back to his senses, though it was probably because he hadn't been half-suffocated by relentless kisses first, the asshole. His first move when he stopped twitching was to kiss Peter's cheek and smooth both hands down his back, shoulder blades to ass cheeks, which he held and held apart for a moment, shifting his hips as if to get further inside. Peter wriggled and giggled, and pressed his own kiss to Wade's cheek.

"Feel better?" he muttered into Wade's neck as the fingers holding him apart inched inwards, fingertips tracing where he was stretched around Wade's knot. They tested the elasticity, the tightness, and, if the way they tried to press just a little inside was anything to go by, the ability to take in more. Which: no. Not right now. Maybe later. A different day kind of later.

"I think so," Wade muttered back, breath hot against Peter's upper back like Wade was watching what he was doing. "I might need a little more cheering up later though."

Peter laughed. "Whatever you need."

Wade fell silent again as his hands traveled back up, and then one cupped Peter's bond bite. Even though he was already knotted, the touch made him shudder, and Wade hissed as he convulsed around his knot.

"Will you tell me what it felt like? When I died?"

Now it was Peter's turn to fall still and silent. The memory of that sensation hit him like a bomb and he had to suck in a deep breath.

"It's… hard to put into words. I couldn't stop crying. I knew you were going to come back but it hurt so bad that I just couldn't stop. I guess it was bad enough that Matt caught it and he wasn't even that close by. He stayed with me for a couple of days, helped me through it."

"Matt?" Wade interrupted, body tense at the implications Peter hadn't realized he was making. Mainly because he hadn't known Wade had forgotten Matt.

"Matt Murdock. Blind lawyer from Hell's Kitchen. He's Daredevil," Peter explained, knocking the side of his head into Wade's. "And a beta. And a friend. To both of us. When he went blind, it heightened all of his other senses and I guess he heard or smelled me or something and I was so out of it that I didn't notice till the second day he'd been there apparently."

Wade clutched him tight and dropped a fierce kiss to his temple.

"Anyway, I'd expected it, since I know you're not exactly careful on missions and the kind of missions you tend to go on are the ones other people would perma-die doing. But I hadn't expected it to be that bad. It was like my heart had been ripped from my chest. Not even a slow rip. Like one minute it was there and the next it was gone. It was…. it was bad. Serious kudos to Cap and Buck for handling it so well."

"Odin's right testicle, baby boy…" Wade trailed off then dragged his free hand down his face. He looked stricken, and Peter hated it. "Why would you let me bite you again if that's just going to happen again? Why would you want my bond bite at all? Or even me in general?"

"I told you, Wade. Everything you do for me, everything you've done for me. It's all worth it. And that pain might be that unbearable, dear-god-why-would-anyone-do-that-twice pain, but people say the same thing about tattoos and piercings and babies. Being able to feel that mating bond between us, to have that scar on my neck, that's worth more to me than- than... being Spider-Man! Of course I don't want to give up Spider-Man and I'm pretty sure post-amnesia you is still okay with that, but it still is. I would rather feel our bond break from your death… some dramatic- number of times, rather than not feel our bond exist at all."

"Geez, Spidey," Wade groused. "Why do you have to go and make me sound like some kind of good man? What makes me so worth it to put yourself through that?'

Peter leaned back, grabbed Wade's jaw, and forced eye contact. "Do you really want me to go through my whole spiel from when I brought you back home? I did this really cool emotional bit where I laid out my soul and told you all the little things I love about you and why you're worth it-"

"UGH! No!" Wade interrupted, grabbing Peter's face right back. "Dammit, Petey, stop using logic and shit. It's not fair!"

"It is too fair! You're lucky we're tied together right now otherwise I'd-"

"Yeah, I definitely am."

"Hm?" Peter stopped mid-thread to blink at the agreement, which he wasn't even sure what it was for. "You definitely are what?"

"Lucky," Wade expanded, though that didn't help much. "That you chose me to knot you and keep you." Oh. "I'm probably the luckiest person in the universe, because you chose me. Even before I got my face lift, never figured myself for the kind of guy to get an omega like you. Or an alpha or a beta. Didn't really matter. I knew I didn't deserve anyone no matter what there first- or secondgenders were. I did dirty jobs for cold cash - well, I still do that - and I'm about seventy-five percent sass-"

"More like ninety-five," Peter cut in under his breath.

"Whatever. I was just sass and violence before, and I'm just sass and violence now, just in a tastefully wrinkled exterior." Peter snorted. "And for some reason, you're like 'yeah, I'll take that fruit home'." This time Peter's snort was like some Frankenstein snort/giggle.

"Yeah, well, your package design was eye-catching, the shape was attractive, and your label was pretty engaging," Peter retorted, flicking his mate's nose. "Blame's all on you for that."

"Actually the blame's on Fabian Nicieza and Rob Liefeld, but close enough."

"Whatever. Us is still your fault." He emphasized every word with a jab of his finger. "Even though you were annoying when we first met, still are sometimes, you were the only one to really get me out of everyone I've ever met. Sure, Aunt May and Uncle Ben understood me the best they could, but they couldn't keep up. Same with Gwen and Harry and MJ. Gwen got the science stuff and Harry got the computer stuff, and you didn't really get any of that stuff, but you tried. Still try. But you got me. And next thing I knew it, you were my best friend. Better than Gwen or Harry or MJ. I wouldn't have been able to get rid of you if I tried.

"Then, one day, you grabbed my hand during patrol, fighting some bad guys. I think you actually swung me around so I could kick like five in the head in some wicked movie kung-fu shit. It was probably three hours later, we were sitting up on a roof, eating, watching the sun come up, and I realized you were still holding my hand and I didn't mind. At the time, I actually wondered why we hadn't done it sooner. Took you a year and a half to propose. It was super cute too. You kept stammering and when you weren't, you were rambling. It was pretty much perfect and christ why do you keep making me monologue?!"

Wade stared. "Who cares if you've done two monologues in three days! That's our origin story? We don't have any epic explosions or cool, meaningful dates or exotic locations? Just- just- Bam! That's it?!"

Peter laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. "If it helps, I think you threw a grenade that night, but yeah, it was some pretty basic shit." Wade was still staring at him, affronted. "Would it help if I said you proposed that we mate on the same day we met?"

Wade scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I had plans for how I was going to ask you out if I ever rustled up the particular set of cojones required for that job. It's a special skill set, Spidey, not everyone can just do it."

"Well, aren't you lucky. You did it without even trying. Caught the spider in a web you didn't even put up. You're so good that you caught me with your sheer animal magnetism. You-"

"Now you're just making shit up, baby boy."

"Yeah, probably. Seems like something I would do."

His Spidey Sense prickled right before fingers grabbed his sides, tickling him mercilessly. The screech that left his mouth was beyond embarrassing, not just because of its pitch, but because he was a super-hero dammit! A genetically-enhanced one! He should be immune to being tickled!

Peter squirmed and thrashed under the assault, unable to keep that stupid sound from escaping his mouth, unable to stop from giggling wildly and thrashing even more so. Suddenly, he tipped over backwards, and with a disconcerting sensation, Wade slipped out of him. Peter made a sound of annoyance and frustration, because he hadn't even realized Wade's knot had gone down enough, and then one of his flailing hands was snared in a hard grasp and he was yanked back up into his mate's lap.

They sat there for a moment, Peter straddling Wade's waist, his alpha's unending erection hard again against his ass. At least that was nothing new - Wade's refractory time had never been nothing short of exhausting. But Wade was silent and his expression closed off, which was entirely new and altogether unwelcome.

"Is it bad that I don't like being outside of you?" Wade asked, voice quiet, vulnerable. "That I want to knot you again?"

"Our bond was only a month old when it broke. I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure this is normal, the neediness and insecurity," Peter replied, voice equally soft. "I've wanted you inside me since before I got you home, but I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want to push you into it a second time."

"You do?"

Peter glared. "Have you been listening at all?"

"I always listen to you, baby boy," Wade replied, wrapping his hands around Peter's waist and turning him around in his lap, holding Peter's back to his chest. A palm pressed to his belly, another to his sternum, pressing him even tighter. Hot breath fanned over his ear and lips traced the outer shell. "Help me out, babe. Help me get back into you."

A shudder shot all the way down Peter spine and he let out a slow exhale, rolling his head back and exposing the curve of his neck to Wade's lips and teeth. Without looking, he reached down to find Wade's dick and slowly guided it back into where he was still wet and open.

Wade's moan as Peter's body took him in, right against his scent gland, was… god, so good. It made his body temporarily light, weightless and bright like a flash orgasm. The hand on his chest and stomach slid around until they became arms, holding him impossibly tight. He was relying entirely on Wade for the speed that he was penetrated, and Wade was going so slow, so fucking slow.

"You know all those sexists that joke that 'home is between an omega's legs'? They're not wrong. Well, they are wrong because they're entitled rapey assholes and I would probably kill them for like… half-off, maybe free if the right person asked." Wade tweaked a nipple pointedly and Peter choked and shifted his hips, trying to take in the rest of Wade's dick, but unless he used his super-human strength to break the hold he had on him, he wasn't going to get any more dick than Wade allowed.

"I'm not going to ask you to kill anyone," Peter finally said when he'd remembered how to speak.

"Don't make promises you can't afford to keep, Spidey," Wade chided him quietly. "Anyway, they're half-right. Home isn't between any old omega's legs, but the omega that picked you. Here?" Wade finally slid all the way in, partial knot and all, and they both shuddered, a hot exhale of relief fanning across Peter's neck. "Here is home for me. I can't remember anything, but you still trust me to do right by you. You trust me enough to let me mount and bond you. So that tells me that here is home."

"Only you could turn something creepy into something sweet," Peter snorted as Wade crossed his legs and settled into the corner, shifting Peter in his lap until he was satisfied. "Told you were a romantic."

Peter snagged the comforter and pulled it up, settling into the blanket of warmth from above and the wrap of Wade's arms. The sensation of having Wade's cock in him, undemanding, just hard and there, brought its own satisfied contentment.

"Will you tell me more about it?" Wade asked into his neck, voice quiet against Peter's neck. "About all the romantic shit I did before?"

Peter turned his head to press his lips to Wade's cheekbone and let his body relax into his alpha's hold. It felt like it was the first time he'd been able to actually, fully and completely, relax since his new mate had walked out of their door for a mission seven months ago. "Sure, Wade. Whatever you want."

FINIS