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Chapter Text

The baddie had barely finished hitting the ground when Deadpool's mouth closed on Peter's. He had no shame in reciprocating the kiss, no matter if the fight had left him a little worse for wear – work next morning would be so much fun. Deadpool smelled of gunpowder, blood and Peter was pretty sure his ribs weren't supposed to be in that position.

He hadn't finished his completely medical checkup on Wade's body when he heard a soulful “Holy shit!” behind them. Which was the remind Peter needed that they weren't alone before pushing Deadpool away. Also jumping back a little, for good measure.

“Aw, c'mon, Spidey!” he whined, “Don't be a tease.”

As if Peter could give any fucks about Wade's complaints on that moment, with that very interested crowd of superheroes staring at them in various stages of shock. How- how the hell does one person forgets they are with the Avengers? They aren't exactly small or, you know, not covered in famous heroic glow all the time.

And Peter apparently had ran his loud mouth off in the battle and just managed a weak, “That's not what it looks like.”

Clint had that shit eating grin, Steve looked slightly worried and, weirdly, it was Tony who put his hands on his armor's hips and said “Sorry, what does Deadpool sticking his tongue on your throat is supposed to look like?”

He was pretty sure Tony Stark, of all people, shouldn't be able to sound like a sarcastic, wary parent when he was sticking worse things on way shadier places. Well, Peter found it hard to believe there could be places shadier than Wade's body, but, anyway, that was not his point.

Peter was trying to make a point, he really was. But he was just opening and closing his mouth like a stupid fish.

“So... “Clint started, and with that face it wouldn't be good, “Have you two lovebirds been together for how long?”

Wade beat him to it, placing a heavy arm on his shoulders and pulling him closer “Four months, six days and ten hours,” he gasped, “Our five month anniversary is tomorrow, sweetums! What do you wanna do? Yellow box is right, let's do tacos then each other.”

Peter shrugged his arm off and paled when Clint turned around and ran towards Black Widow screaming “Nat, you owe me ten bucks!”

That left him with a speechless Captain America and weirdly silent Iron Man. Thank God the other heroes where busy talking with the police and cleaning the place, Peter was not sure he could've handled more stares.

“I know how that sounds, but me and Deadpool are not a thing. At all.”

“My momma warned me you would break my heart!” the mercenary squealed, irritatingly pleased with the situation. As always.

“You don't have a mom,” Peter replied.

“Did he forced you now, then?” Tony interrupted their banter.

Peter sputtered for a second and felt suddenly a little angry, “No! What the hell? Deadpool isn't like that.”

He really didn't want to over think why he was stepping in front of Wade, of all people, in order to protect him from the Avengers, of all people. The merc had heard things way worse than that, but still it was a very shitty thing to say.

“Look, that's like... our thing?” Woah, Peter, good job making it not sound couple-y at all, he flinched, “That came out wrong. It's just, like, a victory dance. But with lips,” he so wanted to be buried alive.

It was true though. The first time happened months before, after they started to pair up more often and Peter didn't want to web Deadpool's mouth every five minutes. They had kicked the ass of a small HYDRA cell – nothing too big that caught the Avengers' attention, but enough to fall on Peter's ears. Adrenaline was pumping on their blood, nobody had died and Deadpool was intact.

Before he knew it they were plastered against a wall kissing like there would be no tomorrow. But tomorrow happened and it was super awkward. A few weeks later, another big fight and they ended up kissing on top of a building. Then again, in an alley. A destroyed construction site. Inside a truck. On a pool. Not that Peter was counting.

He wasn't, totally not.

It was just to make a point of how that became normal. And Peter was okay with that, nothing else ever happened and they just carried their lives normally – if that was possible. After all, it was not a romantic or sexual thing. He was sure other heroes did that too.


“And hands too,” Wade added, “Sometimes it's more of a horizontal tango. Who could've known Spider-Man is nasty under all that spandex?”

Peter rolled his eyes because of fucking course Deadpool would make things worse.

“Well, you two are consenting adults and even if your choices are... peculiar, Peter, the group respects your relationship,” Steve finally said, making Peter wish he had kept his mouth shut.

“Don't do anything stupid, Wilson,” threatened Tony, making his frown noticeable even through the helmet.

“I- We are not together!” Peter protested.

“Use protection.”

“Nah, super regeneration, remember?” Even with the mask, Deadpool's smirk was visible, “And don't worry, Tin-Man, now I only stick it on baby boy here.”

Steve gave Peter a look that said 'really? That guy? It's your life' and went to join the others, clapping Tony's shoulder and dragging him along. Peter's objections were completely ignored and he could see Clint pointing at him and chatting excitedly with Natasha. God fucking dammit, he wouldn't hear the end of that one.

“I hate you,” he groaned to Deadpool.

“I love you too, honey bunch. Now, are we gonna order the tacos at home or you wanna go full romantic and have a fluorescent light dinner?


Chapter Text

In the end, they ordered the tacos. It was even better because Wade paid (he did, right? Peter was on the shower when the delivery guy arrived so he assumed... Right, he shouldn't assume. Well, too late). After that, they sat on Peter's couch with the TV on some stupid series, but he was too busy fixing his web-shooters to fight for the remote.

“Ooooh! Look, that's the cool part!” the merc tapped his arm, “You are not looking, Petey. What's the fun on watching this masterpiece alone?”

Peter elbowed his ribs, “I'm busy, and,” he briefly looked up, “It's just Star Trek, it's not that good.”

There was a long moment of silence where he – wrongly – thought the matter was settled. But of course, things never just settle with Deadpool. Peter straightened his back, hearing some vertebrae pop, ugh, he just wanted to finish the repairs and- Two muscular arms draped around his chest and pulled him. The web-shooters rolled on the couch and simply as that he was laying down with Wade.

“No, we can't hate him, have you seen his ass?” Peter barely heard him mumbled to himself.

“You better not be talking about me.”

“Of course we are, baby boy! Nobody's bubble butt is better than yours, like, not even Thor's. Okay, maybe Thor's, I mean, the guy's a god you can't blame a dude for staring. And those arms, damn, you know?”

“I don't, cuz I don't stare at Thor like a creep,” such a big lie, “You are a perv.”

“I prefer 'sexually secure'.”

Peter groaned in annoyance and pushed Wade, but he barely moved. He would if Peter decided to use his true strength, but that position was so more comfortable than being hunched staring at little corks and screws for hours. Peter was having difficult moral conflict.

“Wade, let me go. Seriously, I gotta finish my work,” he didn't whine, Spider-Man doesn't whine.

“No fucking way, you've been working nonstop, now you are my teddy bear,” Wade giggled at his own thoughts, “Spidey bear. Yeah, we should totally sell those.”

And Peter had admit that was a pretty convincing argument. Not the teddy bears, that's... No. He was a tired twenty two years old man and there was just so long he could resist procrastination. Still, Peter wriggled around a little more so he wouldn't go down without a fight.

“Let's watch something better then,” he provoked after finding a nice position, “Like the reboots.”

“You are full of shit,” Wade huffed.

“For real, I think I have the DVDs. We can watch Star Wars too!”

Wade made a sound of disgust, “Keep quiet like a nice Spidey bear, you are ruining your perfection.”

Peter stretched to grab the remote and Wade's arms tightened around him, stopping his movement.

“Don't be such a baby, come on. I bet there are some cool documentaries on right now.”

The mercenary groaned louder and tangled their legs together, making Peter stuck there as a useless body pillow, “You didn't deserve those delicious tacos, you nerd.”

“Yeah, about those-”

He was interrupted by three knocks on his front door, and before Peter could even try to get free or say anything, Wader beat him to it:

“Come in!”

The door opened revealing Billy Kaplan, “Hey, Peter, I- Oh,” he stopped on his tracks and stared at them, “Sorry, I just wanted to return the book you, uh- I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Peter was confused for a second, but hadn't time to ask because Billy stopped staring at Wade's mask – the one he still insisted in using around some days and made him weirdly uncomfortable – and shoot, “I didn't know you were dating Deadpool.”

“Dear heart here is ashamed of me,” said Wade with a clear smirk on his voice, “He thinks if people know he is dating a bad boy his rep of good neighborhood will be ruined,”Peter was squeezed, “But secret dating is fun too, right, cutiepie? Makes everything spicy on the bed and other surfaces. Like that door.”

Billy made a disgusted face and retreated his hand from said door.

“He is not my boyfriend!” Peter wished he could turn his head like an owl to give Wade a nasty look, “You didn't interrupt anything, we are just hanging out.”

The hero arched an eyebrow, “Sure you are.”

“Godammit, Billy!”

Wade was about to say some dumb, embarrassing shit, Peter knew it. He swore his spider senses had learned to detect that too. Yet he didn't have time to cut him and explain that, somehow, 'cuddling and watching TV' had become kind of a normal thing they did. That, somehow, that was because they were kind of touch starved people and also because they were always at each other's apartments. Well, more on Peter's since you could walk around without bumping on a gun, leftover pizza or worse, but Wade had an Xbox so it was almost a tie.

Peter couldn't even see why Billy had assumed that nonsense, like, he could understand the Avengers with the kissing, but that was just ridiculous. Friends cuddle sometimes! He kind of used to do the same when he and Harry were still close. Okay, they never ended up tangled on a couch but it was not that kind of friendship. Wade was just more touchy feely. Sometimes too much.

Peter didn't have time to explain what had to be a very simple concept because Billy was already drawing his own conclusions, “Right, so, here's the book, thanks for it,” He let it fall on the nearby table, “Sorry again. Have fun?”

“We'd invite you, but I don't do underage.”

“Wade, shut the fuck up! Billy, look-”

The teen was already closing the door behind him, “Don't wanna look!” And he was gone.

God dammit, now Peter would need to explain himself to both Avengers teams. Behind him, Wade pressed his mask covered cheek against his neck and whined:

“Why do you deny our love, pooky bear? I thought we had something special! Even our suits match: red, the color of amor.”

“You are the fucking worst.”

Peter freed himself and went to the kitchen, because, seriously, two days straight, he needed a drink. That would be orange juice because booze was expensive.

“Stop running, it's destiny,” Wade screamed from the couch, “And peer pressure of the readers who want to see us together.”

Honestly, Peter had no clue of what he was talking about most of the time. Maybe that's why they were friends, he was one of the few people that learned how to ignore Wade's bullshit. And, Jesus, if that wasn't a lot to filter.

“Do you wanna get matching tattoos too? Oh, forget that, already did that one before, healing factor takes all the fun. That cute waitress was not smiling when she find out. Gotta tell, she had a pretty strong punch for her size,” Wade kept rambling, “You would like her, let's pass on Las Vegas some day. She gonna prob shoot me though.”

“Everybody wants to shoot you.”

“Yeah, duh, that's how you meet people.”

It was starting to get cold enough so that a thick shirt and some socks couldn't do the job, so if Peter ended up on the couch between Wade's arms again nobody could blame him. Super healing factors make people extremely hot, who would've known? Not that Wade was aesthetically hot, like, he kinda was – Peter wasn't blind and spandex left no secrets. Also muscles can make people comfy too. No, that's not- It's just.



Peter didn't need to justify his actions to himself, he was a grown man. Or to other people. If he wanted to cuddle – not spoon, they weren't spooning, nope – his friend on a cold day and maybe fall a little asleep that was nobody else's business. Jokes on them if they thought he and Wade were dating, just meant they never had a cool friendship.

Even though sometimes Peter caught himself wondering when he started to use 'Deadpool' and 'friends' on the same phrase without a 'no'. Some stuff were worth not thinking about.


Chapter Text

Peter shifted in his sleep, awareness slowly filling his mind along with a sweet smell. He knew that one very well, pancakes. He let a lazy smile spread on his face and sat up, not focusing on how small his bed felt. And hard. Alright, his mattress sucked but fuck his back was destroyed.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. The voices were starting to think you were dead.”

Reality hit Peter like one of Hulk's punches.

Wade's head appeared from the kitchen, maskless for once. Peter's eyes widened as he understood. He wasn't in some magical realm where the price for having amazing breakfast food was a shitty bed. He had fallen asleep on the couch with Wade and if the lights shinning on the living room were any indication, he was late for work. Very late.

Peter cursed and ran to get ready.

“My alarm didn't work?” he panicked while taking the wrinkled clothes off.

“Nope. Why all the rush, Petey? Late for the walk of shame?”

“What? I live here! You should be the one-” Peter interrupted himself, he didn't have time for Wade's games, “Forget it. Some people have to work, you know. For a living.”

“Hey, I work!” came the muffled reply.

While grabbing his notebook and stuffing it into the backpack, Peter decided he wouldn't get into another discussion about the merits of being a mercenary. Specially because Wade gained more in a mission than Peter would in a lifetime. To hell with the guy who said crime doesn't pay.

He picked the first hoodie he saw, packed the unfinished web-shooters and checked himself quickly on the mirror – just to make sure his hair didn't look like a little child's nightmare.

Peter cursed once more for good measure. He liked his new job, he really did. Tony had no idea how he had changed his life with that offer and the last thing Peter wanted was to disappoint him. Or to work at a shitty newspaper again.

A plate with a ridiculous pile of pancakes stopped him on his way to the door. Peter saw Wade's wide smile and frowned.

“You turned the alarm off, didn't you?”

A pair of blue eyes sparkled with mischief, Peter decided not to ask where Wade had found that pink apron.

“It was annoying as fuck”, the merc admitted, “I deserve a kiss, didn't threw it against the wall.”

“You deserve a punch, I'm late for work!” Peter hissed.

“What are you still doing here, then?” Wade said with fake innocence.

Peter suppressed his urge to web the mercenary against a wall and leave him there, but having the Tower of Babel of pancakes trusted into your face was very distracting.

“Want some, honey? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, specially for growing boys.”

“Fuck you.”

Wade was awfully pleased with himself, and Peter tried to put all his anger on his eyes as he stuffed one on his mouth and opened the door. He hated how good Wade's pancakes were, and he hated how he clearly knew that. They were so fucking fluffy he felt as if his frustration was being absorbed, goddammit.

Peter grabbed another before going away for good.

He put the hoodie on messily – at least it was a comfy one – while texting Bruce an apology and warning he was almost there. It was a lie but the intention is the important part.

Peter arrived at the Stark Industries with a flushed face and record time. He hurriedly talked with the receptionist not noticing the weird looks and threw himself on his chair at the laboratory. Bruce jerked a little, looking up from his own experiment and Peter flinched. Nobody exactly wants to surprise the Hulk.

“Sorry. Sorry about being late too.”

“Don't worry,” Bruce waved, “Did something happened? I was worried for a while, you are never late.”

“Nothing big, my alarm didn't work.”

Bruce agreed but his eyes roamed to Peter's chest, a half smile on his face, “I never pegged you for those.”

Peter arched an eyebrow and looked down, and, God, if his face was red before...

That, he concluded, was definitely not one of his hoodies, because he sure as hell didn't own a bright purple one. Specially with 'Hot Boy Toy' written in big, green, letters. Specially one that made him look like a kid by how large it was.

“I can explain,” he spluttered, “That's Wade's. Also it's his fault I'm late.”

Bruce hummed thoughtful, “So it's true. I honestly thought Clint was joking, it would not be the first time he tries to prank me after... the other guy is gone. I'm not very sur-”

“It's not true,” Peter interrupted, he didn't even need to ask, “I don't care what Clint said, it's all lies!”

“So you didn't kiss Deadpool and almost made Tony have a fit?”

“Well,” he scratched the back of his head, “That... actually happened.”

Bruce looked him up and down, “But you two are not dating?”

“No! I don't know why you all think that, seriously. It's not like that at all with us, I swear. It was just a kiss, there are a lot o heroes kissing around and nobody asks questions.”

Oh, great. Peter was babbling like an idiot in front of an oldest hero, in front of his coworker. He just couldn't keep his feet out his his mouth, could he? At least Bruce was more merciful than the others and just chuckled.

“Relax, I believe you,” he turned back to his experiment, “But it's not just the kiss, Peter.”

Peter stopped midway putting the lab coat, “What?”

“It's... more. Since you and Deadpool started your partnership things changed. Deadpool changed, he hasn't killed a mark in months, didn't shoot any of us either. He listens to you when you are together and, well, that's almost always,” Bruce shrugged, “You also look less tired, so I think that's good for both of you. The team even stopped complaining about him, and don't worry, they will let it die soon too.”

Peter was speechless for a few seconds but tried to play it cool, “So... was Clint really betting with Natasha?”

Bruce hesitated, pointedly not looking at him and confessed, “Uh, most of us were.”

You too?” he didn't answer and Peter couldn't believe his ears, mortification visible on his face, “Oh my God, when did you bet?”

“Six months, sorry.”

His first instinct was to comment on how Bruce almost won, but he decided to just huff and start his work. Bruce didn't won, none of them would because he and Deadpool were not together. Definitely.

Peter's pocket vibrated and he checked it, there was a series of texts from Wade blinking on the screen:

  •  I forgot u r poor srry my bad there r pancakes on the fridge
  • u r out of eggs
  • and sugar
  • u should go shopping
  • btw u ARE a hot boy toy ;)

Peter's fingers turned white from squeezing the device and he was overcome by the sudden urge to kick Wade's ass into another dimension. Good partnership to hell. Peter wrote a quickly reply:

  • i'm still pissed at you

He saw Bruce was staring at him with some concern and clarified, “It's just Wade.”

The scientist regarded him with a skeptical look but said nothing. Which was really offensive and Peter was getting tired of defending their platonic friendship.

Yet, for the rest of the day, he couldn't help but remember what Bruce had said about less deaths and shootings. Peter knew it was true, it was the only reason he decided to try that partnership on first place.

God, it was so weird to think about things almost a year before. He had been convinced it would be one of the worst decisions of his life, but Wade asked, and said how he wanted to be a hero and shit – those were basically his words. Peter had been sure that was bullshit, but still gave him a chance. He had just waited for things to blow up on his face for a month, two, then three. It kept going and Wade listened to him more and more, and... They never stopped partnering. Nothing bad happened – generally speaking, there had been that accident with the Rhino and nevermind.

They had come far.

A spark of pride swelled on Peter's chest as he played with the hem of that stupid hoodie. Then it all watered down because he was still mad and no number of pancakes could quench it. Killing or not, Wade was still an asshole.

That night, opening his fridge and seeing what had to be at least fifty pancakes stuffed inside, Peter took his words back. He slept with the hoodie for the sole purpose of warmth, not because Wade was not there. Not because the hoodie smelled like him. That would be stupid.


Chapter Text

Long story short, turns out that small cell Peter and Wade deactivated – not blew up, that was an accident – was probably kind of important. Peter had to give it to HYDRA, they took the whole 'cut one head and two grow' at heart. They lost creativity points though, nazi robots were so outdated.

At least those things broke easily, web one of their heads, push them out of buildings, kick their torso, whatever floats your boat would work. The problem is that they were a little annoying, spinning machines of death with blade hands -annoying. Plus there were quite a lot – Wade estimated a fuckton.

(Cleaning the aftermath would be a pain in the ass. Peter would ask SHIELD how they didn't find where the most wanted organization in the world was keeping a thousand robots, that was lazy work.)

Hours of fight had gone by already and there were still a couple hundreds of robots wrecking havoc. SHIELD must have also noticed they were getting nowhere by the loud boom Peter heard. He turned in time to see a cloud of dust rising from the streets and a huge green figure rocketing from it, taking tens of robots along.

Peter never imagined he would've though that, but thank God for the Hulk. His arms were starting to get tired.

Except getting distracted was never a good idea in the middle of a fight and one of the robots was smart enough to stab his thigh. No matter the adrenaline, Peter felt that one and he had to stop his leg from giving out. Before he could web that son of a bitch's head on the nearest lightpost, it flew away, body falling down in a firework of fried circuits.

Wade stepped on the pile of metal and pushed Peter, slicing up another robot he didn't even noticed had been sneaking up on him.

“Getting tired, Spidey?” Wade asked, not masking the uneasiness on his voice as he looked at the ugly cut on Peter's thigh.

“Just giving you the chance to score some.”

Peter tested his leg and managed to walk with a bit of limp. He checked his web-shooters –enough to end that fight, but not much – and the other heroes – they were okay but even Captain was starting to look worse for wear. At least they were getting some of the weight off, most robots were now going to the street, trying to surround the Hulk.

The very straight and narrow street. With huge buildings surrounding it. Wade's blades' clashed with the robots, echoing on Peter's ears among with a plan.

“Deadpool, can you hold on here?”

“Your pretty lil' brain finally thought something? Thank fucking God, this fight is getting so boring it's like a cheap ripoff of Age of Ultron.”

“I won't even ask,” Peter kicked one of the robots from the ledge and pressed the com on his ear, “Hey, Tony, cover me.”

“Gotcha, kid.”

Peter webbed himself on the tallest building nearby and swung away. Iron-Man was on his back, shooting anyone that tried to cut his webs as Peter wove a thick net on the main street. It took a bit of work, but soon enough the Hulk and a sea of robots were confined, unable to spread the fight.

“Good work, web-head,” Iron-Man flew there and got the easy part, shooting whatever tried to leave the cage that the Hulk couldn't grab on time.

Sometimes Peter really wanted to stop in the middle of a battle to admire the things he did with his webs. That was not one of those times and he just wanted to crash on a bed forever. Peter jumped to go back to Wade's building and finish his job, he pressed his web-shooter but only a hiss and a bit of smoke came out.

That was not good. He pressed again with the same result.

During the split second between free falling and realizing he fucked up, Peter could only think oh, yeah, I didn't finish those repairs. Well, shit.

Peter couldn't believe he, of all heroes, would die like that. It was the most stupid way for Spider-Man to die. Ever. And if they tried to cover his imbecility, it would look as if he had died thanks to pathetic, recyclable robots. Aunt May would be so ashamed, Jesus.

He tried to shoot from the other hand, his stomach dropping as the floor got closer and closer. A weak wisp of web came out and glued to the nearest building.. It was too thin to stop his fall, but enough to prevent his body from becoming jelly. Or so he hoped.

Peter didn't just hit the ground, hard. He also rolled, very hard. All the air from his lungs was knocked out with such violence for a moment he thought he would die anyway. Something let out a sickening crack and, adrenaline or not, his legs and ribs exploded with pain.

There was a brief moment after he stopped that the world seemed silent. And blurry. It was different from being in an explosion, his ears didn't ring, but Peter was painfully aware of his own heartbeat and the metallic taste on his mouth.

Also... Did someone scream his name? He was kinda sure he heard his name. After a second of just making sure he wasn't really dying and that was some otherworldly crap, Peter decided to move his head. It was Wade.

One of the lens of his mask had cracked, but he still could see Wade running on his direction. While the world started to focus, Peter still couldn't find in himself enough air to talk, so he just watched. Watched as Wade feel on his knees by his side, spewing nonsense that Peter wasn't able to put together. He watched as his stream of crap stopped abruptly and something flashed on Wade's neck.

Peter could do nothing but watch as Wade's head lolled on an unnatural angle and blood spilled everywhere as his body went slack. The robot behind him raised his dirty blade to strike Peter but an arrow hit him faster. Just like that it was over, but Peter didn't care.

He was too busy noticing how Wade was not moving.

Or talking.

Not even biology itself could stop Wade from babbling, so why was he so quiet?

“Deadpool?” Peter managed to cough.

No answer. His body didn't even twitched.

Peter tried to move upright, heaving as pain blackened the corners of his vision. Since he was sure his lungs weren't perforated he could deal with that later. Peter grabbed Wade's head and pushed it against his neck, making sure they were in the perfect position. He would've been more disgusted if that was the first time he had to do it. He would've been if Deadpool was moving.

“Deadpool?” he tried again. Peter's throat tightened and so did his finger's on the merc's ruined uniform, “Fuck. Deadpool, stop playing, we are in battle,” no answer, “Wade, c'mon. You can't die.”

He felt his eyes burn and Peter told himself that was not happening. Wade was not able to die. Wade couldn't die. Wade couldn't die because of him. For something that dumb. But the minutes crawled by and he never took so long to heal why was he taking that long to heal why was it hard to breath?

“You can't die,” Peter repeated to himself, “Not now. You still owe me for yesterday. Wade. Wade, wake up.”

He was in some level aware that the battle had ended. He heard steps approaching him on the rooftop. But that didn't matter, Peter took his mask off to look better because Wade would breath at anytime now and say something stupid.

“Did he really...?” someone muttered.

“I think so... God, I can't believe it.”

“Spider-Man,” a voice full of compassion – was it Steve? – called, “I'm sorry, we need to take you to the Tower, you are inju-”

“Just give me more time!” Peter snapped, “He is okay.”

He was ready to kick and scream at anyone who tried to touch him at that moment. Peter was not going to cry in front of the Avengers, but he felt like falling all over again and hitting the ground and maybe Wade was not okay, Wade should be okay he shouldn't-

Steve's hand was floating just above his shoulder when it happened.

“Woah, this took a while,” the merc sat up, rubbing his neck, “Death really wanted to catch up, damn.”

“I'm not even surprised,” Clint commented.

Wade's head shot to the side, eyes wide, “Holy shit, Spidey! I thought you were a goner, splashing on the concrete like one of your insect cousins,” his tone changed and Wade's hands roamed over Peter's body, not touching and visibly shaking, “Fuck, even Yellow thought you were done for good. I didn't-”

Peter was note sure what to do. He really wanted to punch Wade, he really wanted to lay down and laugh away the scare, he also wanted to hug the merc just to be sure everything was really okay. Peter's chest was too cracked to accommodate so many feelings.

Thanks to it he also couldn't find in himself to care about the Avengers around so he pulled Wade's mask up to his nose and joined their lips. Wade shut up, but didn't have time to return the kiss. Peter separated their mouths and stayed there, trying to organize his thoughts while he held Wade's head. A small part of him was still waiting for it to fall off.

“Victory kiss, we are alive, “he breathed, “You are unbelievable.”

“I'm a no refund model, you know it” Wade answered, “By the way, I'm pretty sure you are not flexible enough to bend your leg like that.”

An hour later, they were at Stark Tower's infirmary, doctor leaving quietly the room. Peter was bandaged from chest to feet, thanks to his mutation he would be okay in a week, two at most, but he was still confined to a bed until most of his ribs weren't playing puzzle.

Wade stayed with him the entire process, yapping and driving the poor doctor slowly mad. Peter was okay with that, he was not sure he could handle him quiet again for a time.

“Welp, you are looking a little less like shit,” he said, getting up, “I'm gonna go grab us something to eat, those people think super healing work with hospital grub. You are not eating soap on my fucking watch, schookums.”

The painkillers were acting fast and Peter was a bit groggy, so he just nodded, muttering to himself, “Schookums?”

But Wade didn't walk straight to the door, he stopped by his side awkwardly. Before Peter could ask what was wrong, Wade lowered himself and hugged him tightly. It hurt a little, his uniform's leather squeaked and the position was just weird enough so Peter wasn't able to fully return it.

However, Wade's head was on his shoulder and his arms were warm. Peter took a deep breath and wished they were on his couch, sleeping.

“Don't scare me off like that again, Parker.”

Peter's tongue was made of lead and he only nodded.

“Sometimes I forget things. I forget that you can't stitch yourself together too, and for a second I-When you fell my voices went crazy. I almost lost my head.”

“Too soon,” Peter croaked and felt Wade smiling against his neck, “Are the voices crazy now?”

“Nah, they quiet,” Wade pulled back but Peter grabbed one of his hands, “I would've need to eat all of those pancakes alone. I can't do that, baby boy, gotta keep my hot body. What if you came back in one of those weird Marvel parallel universes as a zombie or something? You would totally dump me for a better piece of ass.”

Peter chuckled, words escaping his mouth “'Not going to leave you.”

They stared at each other for a whole minute, Peter too drugged to care and Wade quiet for once. He squeezed the merc's hands and released it, the need to sleep stronger than ever.

“The voices are a little crazy right now,” Wade confessed, “I'm gonna get food before I decide to jump on you and break more bones. You sure know how to ask for guy's hands, kitten pickles.”

“Go away,” Peter smiled.

As soon as Wade left Natasha came in, the lack of doors probably allowed her to hear everything. On second thought, she was a spy, physical barriers were never a problem.

“How you feeling, Spider?”

Peter groaned something unintelligible he hope sounded as a 'yeah, I'm fucked but alright'. By the small tug on her lips, it did.

“Good, because when you aren't looking terrible we will have a talk. Spider to spider. You made me lose ten buck and I was not even there for it,” she turned around to leave but stopped, “Also, keep making heart eyes at Deadpool, makes Tony uncomfortable. Get well.”

He rolled his eyes – despite the fact Black Widow was still scary as hell – and decided to let that one slide. Peter was too turned to correct her about who he was definitely not fucking.


Chapter Text

Bruce was right after all, not about the dating thing, no. But the Avengers really did let it die. Not quietly, that would be too perfect. It went away with jokes and whistles that made Peter's ears go red and Wade smirk.

On the other hand, Peter himself couldn't let it go. After the accident, he felt as if the whole world had shifted just a bit to the left and he was stumbling around.

While recovering, Wade visited him every day. Every. Single. One. It had been a wild ride. Once he appeared with one of Tony's gauntlets, covered in ashes and trying to hide it under Peter's pillow. Took a lot of reasoning and Steve's intervention to convince Tony to let Wade keep visiting. Peter was glad, bed rest was boring especially when JARVIS is basically the only 'person' to make you company most of the time.

Also maybe his heart beat a little faster each time he saw a black boot stomping into the medical bay. He shrugged it off as a side effect of having Wade dead on top of him.

But that scare faded, Peter was back on his tracks and the weirdness didn't stop. He was painfully aware every time they were too close. His face went a shade darker when Wade touched him casually. He felt lighter when a new dumb message made his phone vibrate.

Can you ask for a time off from a friendship? Peter was pretty sure he needed it. Maybe beg Tony to pay for a trip somewhere not that expensive, or maybe Spain. Spend a week under the sun, not putting his ass on line, not working, no intrusive thoughts. He deserved it and was not above using black mail.

Peter sighed as he webbed the villain of the week to a lamp post, he could dream.

At least the guy was knocked out and couldn't scream the usual 'Let me down!' or 'That's itchy can you scratch my back?'. Also he couldn't see the way Wade grabbed Peter's hips and kissed him before he noticed their masks were pulled up.

That was the first one since Wade's head had decided to say be right back. Peter tried his best to reciprocate, relax the tense line of his shoulders, maybe end it sooner without being suspicious. But Wade backed away on his own, giving him a weird look.

“You okay, web-head?”

“Yeah,” his voice failed, “I was just... distracted. Thinking about stuff,” Peter's eyes landed on the piles of snow already forming on the rooftops and he added quickly “Christmas stuff. What are your plans?”

Thankfully, Wade bought that and his eyes lit up, “Fuck yeah, Christmas! Probably gonna visit Blind Al then hit off cuz she can't cook for shit. Maybe do the thing last year where I appear on an orphanage as Santa and give the kids actually useful stuff like ammo. They love that.”

“You did what now?” His voice climbed an octave.

Wade, of course, just kept walking, “I think I'll go on a mission, they pay so good this time of the year. Not even cold hearted mafia bosses are immune the Christmas spirit, you gotta love that.”

He felt oddly put off by that, “You are seriously going away to shoot people on the holidays? Nobody else you want to visit or something?”

“Not really,” the merc shrugged, “Ellie is going to travel with her family so, nah.”

Peter's legs stopped working to help his brain process the million theories and red lights blinking on his head, “Wait, who's Ellie?”

“Huh? Ellie's my girl, Spidey, duh,” he finally stopped walking, “Haven't you read the comics?”

That did exactly nothing to the growing wave of restlessness on Peter's chest. He was exploding just a little with the fact that apparently Wade had a girlfriend and he never knew about it and they were kissing after missions for Christ's sake and even being totally platonic it's still not cool- Wade reached into one of his hundred pockets and handed Peter a small picture.

It was a little girl, not older than ten, maybe nine years old. She had a bright pair of brown eyes, and a long, dark hair. Her face was stretched into a grin Peter knew very well.

“I know, she is beautiful,” the merc said, pride as visible in his voice as his puffed chest, “Nothing like me, thank fucking God.”

Peter was not sure in what to focus, the shameful relief, the confusion or the way Wade's glowing face struck something in him, “You... never mentioned you have a daughter.”

“You sure, munchkin? Well, you should come meet her some day, she is super into you and the whole hero thing, must be genetic. Super smart too, the little nerd, but she knows sometimes you gotta punch your way out of stuff,” he snickered to himself and took a last look at the picture before putting it away.

“She really is pretty.”

There was so much Peter wanted to ask: Who's her mother? What do you mean family? How old is she? What the fuck? However he was very aware his brain had short circuited to the image of Deadpool, the merc with a mouth, the guy who got off from gore and explosions, holding that little girl, bringing her gifts, helping with homework and... being... a freaking dad.

Peter blamed his stupid, impulsive decision to the sudden accelerated rate of his heartbeats, “Me and Aunt May we will have a dinner on Christmas, nothing big. Do you wanna come? Then you can tell me more about Ellie and stuff and don't... blow anyone up in general.”

And as if it was possible, Deadpool's smile grew with a loud shriek, “Holy shit, yeah! Spidey asking me to meet his family that's a damn Christmas miracle. Thank you, Noah!”

“That's really not... Whatever.”

“But there will be some blowing alright, applebutt,” he snickered. Peter groaned and went away with a dumb satisfaction coiling on his stomach.

Fast forwarding the whole story: It was amazing how the moment can make any abrupt decision look good.

Peter was cursing himself because if that was not a terrible idea, oh, boy. What the fuck had he been thinking when he suggested that it would be a nice thing to put Aunt May and Wade on the same room. The nicest, sweetest human being he ever met and Wade.

And make them interact.

He trusted Wade with his life, but not with not setting something on fire during a family dinner or not making boner jokes in front of his aunt.

Peter had ran through all the possible excuses but there was no visible way to uninvite Wade without sounding like a major asshole. He took a deep breath, packed his stuff and marched to his aunt's as one would to the death row. He hoped he could outlive whatever would happen on that dinner.

“Peter! Come in,” Aunt May kissed his cheek and pulled him inside, unbashedly spying over his shoulders, “Where is your friend?”

“About that, we need to talk about Wade,” Peter winced, “Look, he is not the most normal guy and all and sometimes he talks alone or say strange stuff so-”

His aunt waved him, “We are not having this conversation again, I know what I'm doing. Where is he?”

Peter sighed, “He'll be here soon.”

Soon arrived and the whole table was set, food hot and drinks ready. Still, no signal of Wade. Aunt May was decided they wouldn't eat until he was there, so they waited. An hour passed and the turkey had started to cool down. Peter checked his phone each ten minutes but there was no answer to his texts.


He was resigned to the fact that Wade had probably forgotten his invitation or something. Even though that was what Peter had wanted from the beginning he couldn't help the acute disappointment. He was about to announce Wade wasn't coming when the doorbell rang.

Aunt May all but jumped from her chair to get there before Peter.

Wade was standing outside in a horrendous Christmas sweater, mask on, and carrying a huge bucket of chicken wings, “Ops, wrong house. I'm sure Peter's aunt doesn't live in the Playboy Mansion.”

Peter shouldn't be surprised, he really shouldn't, but it didn't make it any better. Though it was a victory and a little alarming that his Aunt giggled and stepped aside, “You must be Wade. Come in, it's freezing outside.”

And he did, with all his usual swagger, winking at Peter as if he wasn't late and making him embarrassed,“What's up, light of my life? You didn't tell me your aunt is hot!”

“Please don't,” Peter pleaded, “Why do you have chicken wings?”

“You said I had to bring something and I couldn't cook so...”

Aunt May, bless her heart, took the KFC bucket and carried over to the table without a second glance, “That's so thoughtful of you. It's unusual, but it'll match the gravy. Peter, why don't you show him around while I reheat some things?”

“Yeah, I will...” he waited until she was out of hearing range, “What the hell? You can cook.”

“I said I couldn't, flubber cheeks,” Wade explained, flicking his forehead, “My kitchen kind of blew up, that's what happens when you accidentally throw grenades at things.”

“How do you accidentally throw a grenade?”

Wade shrugged the question away, looking around, “So that's where the itsy bitsy spider learned to climb walls?”

“You know I wasn't born like this.”

“Yeah, but it sounds cooler than being bitten by a radioactive insect. I mean, seriously, Petey? Talk about cliché.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, “Spiders are not even- Whatever. Took you two hours to pass by KFC?”

Wade was focused on staring at the pictures on the walls, “You know traffic. Baby Jesus, is that you? Awn, look at that lil nerdy face!”

“You don't have a car!” Peter interrupted, doing his best to not drag him away from those, “Focus, Wade, you are starting to make me worry here. What happened? Did it have something to do with your kitchen exploding?”

To Wade's luck, Aunt May choose that moment to pop up, “Oh, you found Peter's pictures. I have a whole box of albums I can show you later, if you want – he was the cutest boy.”

“He still is, right, cuddle cakes?”


“He sure is,” Aunt May agreed, “But I'm sure you must be hungry, Wade. Come on, Peter, show him the dinning room while I finish.”

Wade walked away without guidance and clearly more than relieved to escape the conversation. Peter followed close behind, glaring daggers because if he thought that was over he was an idiot.

However, to his major surprise, dinner was not that much of a cringe worthy experience. Wade, of course, couldn't shut his mouth if his life depended on it – which would never happen. But he was tense, Peter could see it in the accelerated blabbing, making sure to never let his mask rise too much while eating.

At least it was not 'murderous spree' -tense.

Aunt May was the perfect host, she did her best to not let the everything fall on an uncomfortable silence and smiled even when didn't understand what Wade was talking about. Plus, she let the dicks joke slide.

Took two more of those to realization hit Peter that Wade was nervous.

It was such a rare sight, Wade never dwelled for too long on a single mood. That made Peter's gut sink when he remembered he tried to uninvite the guy. God, Wade being Wade he was at his best that night. There had been at most two comments about Peter's ass and between that and hitting on his aunt one could say he was being polite.

Peter was going to bury himself alive after the dinner. Yep.

“Peter, can you help me with the dishes?” Bury himself alive after being a good nephew, alright.

He rose from the chair, the desert was finished and they were all full, sated and warm. Wade said nothing as Peter stacked up the plates and followed Aunt May to the kitchen.

“It feels nice to have another person over for a change, doesn't it?” she commented while turning the faucet.

“It does,” Peter admitted, “So... what do you think of him?”

“As you said, a little weird and we can work on his manners, but a great kid. You could've told me at least.”

He dropped the plates on the sink, “Told you what?”

Aunt May gave him the look that signified he was being overly difficult about a simple matter, “Don't play coy with me. I would've made something better, maybe bought the gifts on time. Also, I don't see why you had to hide it from me,” she spoke with concern then “Were you afraid I was going to judge you for having a boyfriend, Peter? You know I would never-”

“Woah, let's calm down,” Peter softly cut her, laughing nervously, “We- Me and Wade, not a thing, alright? He's not my boyfriend, I'm not his... We are friends, Aunt May, where did that even came from?” His voice was not panicked, not at all.

Aunt May shot him a quizzical look, “Well, I thought it was obvious. I had my suspicions when you talked about him, but tonight I thought you would introduce him properly in the end.”

Peter couldn't recall mentioning Wade to his aunt, but that was for another time.

“No! Just friends. Completely platonic,” he ran his hands through his hair, “God, why does everyone think that?”

“Peter, if everyone thinks the same thing, there must be a line of truth,” he rolled his eyes and she smiled, “I'm sorry, if you say so I'm not going to ask anymore. Just want you to know he is a nice guy, no matter what, but if the occasion ever comes know that I'm happy for you.”

“You are the worst. There will be no situation.”

“Of course not, Peter,” Aunt May gave his hand a playful slap, “I'll handle this alone, you can go make company to your not-boyfriend.”

He bolted from the kitchen, absolutely hating the way the assumption was not sitting on him the same way it would've sat months before. Wade was still on the dinner table, using the fork as a catapult to small pieces of napkin.

“You know you can move,” Peter rubbed his face, hoping he could blame the cold for the blush.

“Shh, I'm trying to focus here.”

“Yeah, I'm sure you are losing,” he sat down on the chair across from him and watched little balls of paper fly and fall inside one of his aunt's vases sometimes. Wade celebrated with a small punch on the air. “Hey, so... tonight was cool. Thanks for not saying much about maiming people and such. My aunt liked you.”

“She what?!” Wade's fist fell too heavily on the fork and it went flying away, hitting a wall loudly, “Shit!”

“Everything okay?” Aunt May's voice sounded from the kitchen.

“Yeah, don't worry, just let some things fall.”

Deadpool recovered quickly and grinned “Of course she liked, baby boy, I'm the number one hit with the cougars. They dig the scars.”

“Please, don't. Not now, not never.”

Soon the fork was retrieved, and Peter joined that stupid game, with a stupid smirk and being stupidly happy while he bickered with Wade. It was all very stupid and made him feel all fuzzy inside. The things Christmas did to people. He was just happy Wade had behaved around his aunt, that's it.

The way Peter turned around, hours later while they were walking home and offered:

“Hey, I've been thinking about what you said. Don't wanna be weird or anything but when Ellie comes back do you think that maybe, I dunno, I can visit her with you. Like. Dressed as Spider-Man since she likes it and all? Would be a cool Christmas gift, maybe, and it's always nice to make fans happy. I mean, if you are okay with that, sorry it came out of nowhere and made me sound like a creep.”

-That had nothing to do with the way Wade freaked out making Peter feel like his day was made.


Chapter Text

Wade was gone.

After three days without visits, Peter accidentally ended up in front of Wade's building and decided to say hi. It had been empty except for a bag of cash with a badly written note of 'on a mission brb'. That was on January 3rd.

It wasn't unheard off and Peter shrugged it off. Wade would be back in a week or so.

Maybe two.

A whole damn month passed without a sign of him. No messages, calls, or even something on the news. Was Peter worried? Of course. Was he a little bored? Yep. Were patrols more tiring without him? Maybe. Did Peter missed Wade? That was not the point.

Peter was not his mom or whatever, so he decided to leave the guy alone – not like he could die anyway. Instead, he used that time to bury all those weird, not welcome thoughts that invaded his head during the past months.

He was almost convincing himself of his success when it happened.

First of all, when you are a guy bit by a radioactive spider and needs to deal on a daily basis with megalomaniac people who calls themselves stuff like Doctor Octopus, you become hard to surprise. Second, he lived in New York. His life was weird, Peter had learned to deal with that.

Still, he was not sure how to react to the sounds coming from his apartment. There was muffled shouting and an occasional loud bang Peter could hear even before he finished climbing the stairs. Just what he needed, to be robbed.

Looking around to make sure there was no one, he equipped the web shooters and opened the door slowly. The scene that welcomed him was not less confusing.

Wade was lying on his couch, suit on, holding a bunch of crumpled roses badly tied together in what, Peter supposed, should be a bouquet. Also, there was an open box on the coffee table with a pizza badly cut in a way that would resemble a heart if there wasn't a slice missing. A football game was on the TV, full volume.

That was a lot of information to process so Peter stood there, speechless. Thankfully Wade was always ready to fill the silence:

“Oh, shit, hold on,” he scrambled to pick turn the game off and grabbed his cellphone, “Fucking gloves make shit hard, there should be an iphone for glove users, gotta talk with Stark about that one. Yeah, found it,” Love on Top started blasting from the speakers, “Surprise!”

“Wade...” Beyoncé helped Peter find his voice, “What the hell?”

“Pick your chin off the floor, baby boy. That's my gift for you,” Wade announced, pointing to himself with a grand gesture, “Sorry for the screaming, you took so long I had to distract myself.”

“Gift,” he repeated closing the door before any noisy neighbor decided to check what the ruckus was about.

He couldn't even see Wade's face yet Peter knew he was wiggling his eyebrows, “You gonna stay there looking dumb or start touching, tasting or whatever you spiders do?”

“What is the gift for?”

Peter was pretty sure it was not his birthday. Or Wade's – he was not above doing something like that on his own birthday. He tried to remember the calendar and his face fell.

“It's Va-”

“It's Valentine's day, Petey!”, Wade interrupted, obviously grinning, “Check out the romantic scenario I built for you. We got music, flowers, pizza – it's pineapple by the way, suck it up. Ha! Suck it, get it? Anyway, there is even super romantic booze,” He fished a six pack of beer from behind the couch, “Champagne was too expensive and I may or may not have blown my last paycheck on a pretty cool rocket launcher.”

“Your last paycheck,” Peter enunciated slowly taking a few steps into the living room, “How do you even- Scratch that, where have you been?”

“Uh, France?”

Peter was ready to calm himself with the reminder that he had no right to demand anything from Wade – as he had constantly during the past month. However, Wade had the ability to decimate his peace of spirit.

“Hello? Earth to Petey? I know it's super rude to interrupt someone's mental breakdown, but come on, I'm baring my heart here, snuggles. You could cry, maybe a thank-you blowjob, I'm not picky.”

“I'm going to kill you,” Peter announced through clenched teeth.

“Wrong reaction.”

“Why didn't you say anything before leaving? Or during? Just a single message so I know your pieces are not scattered around somewhere! Do you even know how it was to go weeks without hearing from you?” he snapped, “Do you?”

Wade looked ready to make a joke but seeing Peter's face he bit his tongue, “Uh, sorry?”

“I bet you are because I'm about to throw you out of the window,” Peter stomped on his direction but Wade wasn't sent flying across the room.

Instead, he ended up with an armful of the man. Peter pushed his shoulders violently, making the couch wiggle for a second before ripping Wade's mask off and joining their lips. Despite his anger, the moment the kiss started all the violence drained from him.

It was not exactly a new sensation, Peter would lying if he said it sent shocks through his body. It was different, the rush of adrenaline was not present. Neither the clash of teeth or the excitement of maybe getting caught.

Peter felt his whole body go lax on the merc's lap when he finally answered the kiss. Wade being a damn good kisser only added to the warmth spreading on his lower belly. A hand dropped lower and squeezed his ass, making Peter scoot closer to Wade – only fair since Anaconda started playing.

When they broke apart Peter was sure his heart would carve a way out of his chest. He used the fleeting second while he recovered his breath to panic. Maybe he had read it all wrong. It was not like Wade didn't flirt with everything that moved.

“I should disappear more often,” Deadpool said with a dazed look on his face. Just like that, the worry was gone.

“Don't you dare,” Peter replied, unable to hide his small smile, “I don't date guys that go to France without warning me.”

That managed to sent Wade into an overdrive if his shocked look was anything to go by. Peter knew him well enough to know his voices were freaking out and it made him weirdly proud it was his fault.

“So, where are the candles?” he provoked, not moving from his new spot to appreciate the 'romantic scenario' Wade had set.

Peter knew he was far too gone by the way he actually found it cute.

“What?” Wade spoke at last.

“Candles, like, a bunch of them around like in movies that would probably burn my house down in a sec? Or rose petals that would take a month to clean up?”

Wade squinted and crushed one of the abused flowers, trowing the petals on Peter's face, “Done! Fuck you, Spider. I put my heart on the line here and you want shitty candles? You are such a gold digger.”

“I seriously doubt anything here costs you more than seven bucks,” he giggled, “I also don't date guys who eat pineapple pizza, so gross.”

“Tough shit, sugar plum,” his arms tightened around Peter, grinning, “We are official now, you said it not me. Except if that was a weird welcome back bro kiss,” Wade frowned, “then, uh...”

Feeling suddenly light headed Peter gave him a quick peck, “It wasn't. But the pet names gotta stop.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen, baby boy,” Wade kissed him again, all his confidence back, “Yummy bear,” Another kiss, “Cuddle cakes,” A kiss, “Strawberry bubbles,” Kiss, “Lil pandabear.”

“That's disgusting,” Peter laughed, “Jesus, I hate you.”

“Tell that to the fangirls.”

Peter decided to let Wade pepper kisses all over his face while whispering ridiculous pet names, the dumb happy smile not going anywhere. Neither would Wade now that he had a say. But for the time, Peter was just glad they wouldn't need to correct anyone for a change.