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Our Separate Ways

Chapter Text

There is nothing. And then suddenly, there is everything.

Matter bursts outwards and the vacuum is filled with the universe. Where there was nothing is an infinite cosmos. This is long before his time. His kind was not around to witness the birth of the universe. Nor was he there to oversee life crawl out of the primordial ooze. He himself comes into the world much in the same way the universe came into being. He was not, and then suddenly--he was.

He is born with an intrinsic understanding of what he is, something he is told humans are not privy to. While he knows his function, his reason for being, those he is to influence have no idea of theirs. Which is where he comes in, to guide them.

He sees the earth when mankind is budding and new, bustling and building and coming into itself. Humans build civilizations that are swept away not a millennium later. They spill the blood of their own kind, prematurely ending their already woefully short lives.

Still, no matter how fast humanity is sprinting to its demise, he tries to slow it down. One person at a time. It’s a lengthy project, often unrewarding, but he is forever where mankind is finite. How else would he whittle away eternity?

In his early days he’s bright eyed and eager, much to the chagrin of his elders. They send him off with well wishes, completely unprepared for the mess that is humanity.

He witnesses history. He is the unseen presence that begs Orpheus not to look back and after that failure Peter is a little bit more jaded.

The world changes. Religion changes it. Where he was accustomed to seeing marble shrines and temples he sees smothering, enclosed places of worship. People don’t believe in Gods walking among them anymore, although they do believe in witches casting curses. He tries to quell the calamity. He tries so hard, but no one wants to listen to reason.

For the first time, he feels utterly helpless.

Those older and wiser than him decide it’s time to pull back their shepherding hand. “What will be, will be,” is what he’s told when he protests.

“We can’t abandon them when they need us most,” he says. But he is young and knows little.

He watches from afar. He watches massacres and war and sickness. He watches until he can no longer stand it. Time passes by him quickly and before he realizes it, the world is nothing like what he remembers.  

Chapter Text

Wade walks into the palace occupying the Morally Grey Area, somewhere along the equivalent of the equator. At least, he assumes that’s where he is, because it’s so hot his balls are sticking to his leg if he so much as thinks about taking a break. He feels like he really can’t complain, though. After all, today is the day that they discuss going back to earth. Like, officially.

Wade’s been sneaking down there every so often ever since… well, let’s just say it’s been awhile. Pretty much since they had to leave in the first place.

Humanity got too suspicious; too many wives tales, too much toxic religion, and suddenly anyone with powers was a demon. Which... wasn’t what they were. Sure, he’s a sin. But that doesn’t mean he’s a demon. In fact, the sins and the virtues get along pretty well as long as they don’t have to spend a shit ton of time together.

They’re motivators, covering the whole of human behavior. Sure, the Sins and the Virtues live separately, often act separately. But no feeling is absolutely morally wrong or right; Wade thinks the closest someone comes to that is Charity, but even she doesn’t always have things turn out her way. She’s been trying with Jeff Bezos for the last three years, and that asshole is still just giving to people who already have more than enough.

They don’t get a whole lot of what goes on with humans, but they get feelings. Household names, they know a little about. Some base knowledge is imparted on them at some point, but Wade has no clue how it all works. He’s justt here to occasionally fuck.

Oh, yeah.

Wade is Lust.

He approaches the palace. It’s spiralling high into the sky, big, bulbous domes that contained centuries of knowledge; an impartial human history, written down as it’s happening.

Beside him, he feels another presence arrive. He turns, and he sees the love of his life: Prudence.

Prudence is a thin boy with brown hair and chocolate eyes and an arguably dorky haircut. He’s never really given Wade the time of day, but whenever they’re together,Wade just knows sparks are flying. Wade can tell when two people are compatible. And him and Prudence? Would be an all day fuck-fest, with breaks in between to watch disney movies and cuddle.

That is, if Prudence would ever accept an invitation from ye old Lust.

“Hey there, Prude! Good to see that sweet, sweet ass of yours on this fine April morning. How may I assist you?” He asks, turning around and walking backwards so that he can get a good look at Prudence.

“Wade, cut it out.” He says, rolling his eyes fondly. God, how Wade wishes he could make his eyes roll back in his head for a different reason.

“Oh, so we’re using our special human names now, are we, Penguin?”

“It’s Paprika.” Peter corrects, grinning as he steps into the elevator. Wade gets on with him, knowing that he’ll be late if he takes the stairs. There are so many stairs in this place. He doesn’t know how the librarians (whoever they are, whatever they are, if they even exist) managed before the elevator.

“Are you sure it wasn’t Pennsylvania? That ones ringing a bell right now, not gonna lie.” Wade teases back, leaning against the side. The elevator is small, and he wonders whether or not Prudence will actually freak out if he gets a boner. Despite his virtue, he hasn’t actually rebuffed any of the flirting that Wade’s done so far.

Wade is convinced that it’s because he’s too nice to.

When the elevator finally comes to rest on the top floor, Wade and Peter step out and are greeted with twelve pairs of eyes. Great, fashionably late. That’s exactly how Wade wants to start this meeting.

Peter looks sheepish, and makes his way to his chair on the Virtue side of the table. Wade goes to sit with the sins. Anger, who’s big and green and grunts a lot, gives him a sideways glance.

“Shove a sock in it, you oversized broccoli stem.” He stage-whispers. Anger, instead of getting angry, just turns away. God, Wade needs someone new to annoy. Not even Anger reacts to his jibes anymore!

“Alright everyone.” Kamala states, bringing attention to the front of the room. Charity is radiating off of her, and Wade basks in it. He doesn’t have any attraction to her herself, but some of his more giving lovers have been strongly under her influence. He respects what her power can do. “So, I think we all know what this meeting is about.”

Wade raises his hand. Kamala, wisely, ignores it and moves on.

The giant crystal ball in the center lights up, glowing ethereally on its large wooden stand. It centers in on America, where it shows a live feed. Impossibly fast, it zooms through cities; Wade can see people starving, people dying. People caught in abusive relationships. It makes him flinch.

It makes them all flinch.

“So,” Kamala announces, her hands on her hips. “What I’m saying is, I think it’s about time we return to earth. They need us close right now. They need motivation. They need to incite change. They need every one of us.”

Prudence raises his hand. Kamala nods at him, an indication to speak. Wade feels a little sting when he thinks about how she ignored his hand, but he knows that she made the right choice. What he was going to say was fucking dumb.

“I think we should try to come back slowly.” Peter reasons. “See how the humans react this time. If the superstition has faded, then we’ll be safe to return. But I don’t want us all to go back only to be hunted down as witches.”

There’s a murmur of agreement amongst the virtues and the sins alike. Wade feels a little bit of panic well inside of him; he has to make it back to earth. He loved his time living there, fondly remembers the days not spent with the anxiety that someone was going to find he was gone and come drag him back to their dimension.

“I AGREE.” He blurts, immediately. “AND I THINK I SHOULD GO.”

Everyone turns to look at him, confusion in their eyes. Wade feels their stares searing into his skin like the scars that mar his body, and he makes a face at them. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“That’s the first time you’ve said something smart.” Gamora, Love, responds. “In the entire history of these meetings. Really, it’s unnerving.”

“Whoa, didn’t realize I was talking to Sass, the Virtue of Pain in the Ass.” Wade responds, not even pausing. Gamora rolls her eyes.

“On a serious note,” Peter interrupts, “I think that’s a good idea. And I think that I should go down with him.”

Go down on him , Wade’s internal monologue corrects. But he’s not even listening to it, because he’s so damn excited by the idea of having Peter on earth with him. God, trying to get him to bone would be so much easier if he could just show Peter the beauty of sex in the world. And, well… As much as Wade hates to admit it, it’s been awhile since he’s visited earth too, and having someone to talk to when it gets overwhelming is an appealing thought.

“One sin, one virtue.” Patience responds, nodding his head. He used to be a doctor, down on earth. Wade is sure he’d like to go back. Granted, his practicing name is dumb as shit. Who the hell would let Doctor Strange perform their surgery? “Sounds reasonable to me.”

“All in favor, say aye.”


A chorus of aye’s comes from both sides of the table. Peter shifts in his seat, a bubble of anticipation and nervousness blooming in his stomach. He loves humanity. Too much, in fact. In his early days he would work himself into a state of such worry he could hardly function. He poured his entirety into helping people and was devastated when his efforts failed. He’d had to step back just to regain his perspective on humanity. Perhaps he checked out for longer than he’d intended, but really, how much could change in a few centuries?

He clasps his hands on the tabletop, listening to the continuing meeting. His attention wanders, and with it his eyes. His gaze stops on Wade, who is staring at him with unnerving intensity. Blue-grey eyes catch Peter’s and Wade grins, revealing a mouthful of teeth that look too white against his skin.  

Peter smiles back automatically, which seems to please Wade because his grin grows and he wiggles his non-existent brows suggestively. Peter snorts and returns his attention to the discussion going on around them, although he only half listens, too busy thinking about going back to earth, with Wade no less.

That would be… interesting. He likes Wade, he does. But for as much as Wade makes him laugh he also makes Peter tense with irritation. Sins and virtues aren’t enemies, but they also don’t mingle extensively. It isn’t animosity that keeps them from forming closer bonds, necessarily, more their conflicting nature.

Sure, there are always some people who get along with everyone, but aside from Wade Peter hasn’t spent much time getting to know the other sins. Wade is already pushing the bounds of what he can handle--after all, he’s not Patience.

And Wade has managed to make Patience… well, run out of patience.  

The man is reckless where Peter is cautious. He conflicts with all of Peter’s ingrained ideologies, and yet Peter finds himself drawn to Wade. He supposes it’s the balance between them: Yin and Yang.

He likes Wade, and that’s something Peter sees as problematic. He exists to help mankind, not to waste his time on earthly pleasures the way Gluttony and Wade do. He governs himself with discipline--Wade leaps at the chance to do something he knows he shouldn’t.

Like his excursions to earth, for example. Peter isn’t sure if any of the other virtues know, but he’s seen Wade sneaking off to visit the human world. Every fiber of his being urges him to intervene, to stop Wade or alert someone more responsible than he is to the misconduct.

He does neither. He’s not Wade’s keeper, and he certainly isn’t a tattletale like Honesty, who couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. Wade’s little trips are, as far as Peter knows, a secret shared between them.

It’s one of the small things that makes Peter feel close to Wade, something that cements their kinship in his mind.   

He’d be lying if he said the queasiness in his stomach had nothing to do with the prospect of getting any closer to Wade.

Whether that’s something he’s hopeful for or dreading, Peter isn’t sure.

Wade’s constant flirting makes his insides turn to goo, and that terrifies him. Wade flirts with everyone--he isn’t special, but a part of himself that Peter refuses to acknowledge wants to be special. That, Peter knows, is an impossibility. Wade is Lust, flirting and seduction is as in his nature as caution is in Peter’s. When Wade winks at him, makes a pass, it’s how the man says ‘hello’.

Letting himself believe it was anything more would be foolish.

Gamora has told him multiple times that his life is bereft of true happiness because he won’t let himself love anyone deeply, but if anyone was going to be biased it’s Love.  

Wade scares him. Everything about Wade clashes with Peter’s nature. He’s the exact opposite of Prudence. Wade is an all-in kind of guy. He burns bright and hot, and Peter doesn’t know if he can recover from being burned. He is, compared to his other virtues, soft hearted.

Seeing people causing themselves harm hurt him deeply. Gamora is Love, and even she’s not as easily wounded by the self-destructive nature of man. Peter feels sick watching humanities mistakes from afar, how would he cope if someone hurt him directly?  

He hasn’t found out yet, and he intends to keep it that way. His defenses are built high, reinforced and thickened after each new blow of failing to influence some stubborn world leader. Although if influencing were easy, there would be little use for motivators. Either humanity would get their shit together or a madman would rule the world and everyone would be fine with it.

His musings are interrupted by a sharp clap and shit, he just tuned out the entire meeting, didn’t he? Again. Peter winces in his seat and focuses on Kamala, who hasn’t seemed to notice his complete lack of attentiveness.

“Okay, now that we have all the details ironed out I think we’re done here. Wade and Peter will leave for earth Sunday and depending on their success, we’ll discuss further sins and virtues joining them. Any questions?”

Peter’s mouth flaps open. No sound comes out.

“Alright. Dismissed.” Kamala bangs the ceremonial gavel that Peter always thought seemed unnecessary.  

Maybe Wade could fill him in on what he missed.

Peter thinks this and immediately scolds himself. Wade pay attention? Fat chance. Oh well.

What was that saying? Nothing worth doing is easy? Well, humanity must be the most worthwhile thing in the whole damn universe.

Chapter Text

Wade’s really going to miss-- well, okay, no he isn’t. Being cooped up with the same people all in one house for so long isn’t really conductive to his personal journey. And by that, he means that none of the bastards he lives with can still tolerate him after so long.

At least, that’s how he feels.

But that doesn’t matter anymore. This is New York City, Baby! This place has the hottest clubs, the best shady hotdog stands, and one very, very sexy vixen named Prudence.

Of course, Wade has no clue whether or not Peter is anywhere near him. They plan to meet in a month and discuss how everything is going, whether or not they think it’s conductive to everyone to come back to humanity, yada yada. Wade really thinks that Peter should have elected to stick together, but he wasn’t allowed to speak in the meeting.

Again, though, he knows he did that one to himself.

“I’m gonna miss ya, big buddy.” He says, shifting the weight of the mediocre box he has in his hands so that he can spare an arm to wrap around the Hulk’s neck.

“Move arm. Or break arm. Your choice.”

“As usual,” Wade confirmed, moving his arm away quickly, “You have an eloquence with words that I cannot begin to fathom.”

Gluttony stands behind the swirling blue and white portal, looking at Wade with a smirk. He’s kinda the leader of the Sins, y’know. Right behind Wade.

“Don’t get yourself killed, I miss orgies.” Tony says, raising his eyebrows. “And I have a lot of money accumulated from interest on my many, many bank accounts. I’m ready to-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it.” He says. Wade turns to the reader. “You see, this small insert is a metaphor for how people with too much money become gluttonous enough to drown themselves in items of material wealth that they don’t really need. This is due to the nature of human greed. Really clever, actually.”

He turns back to Tony, holding out his arms for a hug.

Tony crosses his arms and walks away, through their open-layout living room and into the hardwood floors of their kitchen, most likely heading back to his private room to masturbate and feel alone. At least, that’s what Wade likes to imagine that he does. Mostly because mental images of Tony masturbating have been in his spank bank for the past two years and at this point he really can’t fathom that Tony doesn-

You know what? This isn’t important.

Wade takes a deep, steady breath, and runs directly into the portal.

He emerges on the other side victorious, and he grins. He can smell the cheap hot dogs and muggings from here. Literally, he’s kinda pretty sure he just heard a guy get shot. But it’s not his problem.

He clutches his own personal possessions tighter; it’s not like he can die, but he can absolutely lose his limited edition Voltron hoodie. And the last time he came to earth, it was cool to have one of those.

The bricks of the building he’s beside lead him out of the alleyway and into the road. He peers out onto the street and ensures that nobody else is walking before he begins his journey towards the library. If he knows one thing, it’s that he has to have a place very soon, or he’s gonna be homeless.


“I’m fucking homeless.” He groans, putting his head down. He’s hunched over a bench in central park. The sun is setting, and his box of personal items is unfortunately covered in urine that DEFINITELY isn't his. Long story, don’t ask, but he is absolutely still keeping the Voltron hoodie.

Typically, he would just use the powers of persuasion that all the sins and virtues have to convince some landlord to let him stay for free. But he knows that not alerting others to their powers is absolutely crucial. The sins and virtues’ decision on whether or not to join the humans on earth again hinges on him and Peter blending in. As much as he wishes he could just convince a landlord to give him a nice apartment for free, it would be too much. Too risky. He doesn’t need to go through a seventh witch trial, thank you very much.

He looks up at the setting sun, low in the sky. Soon, it will be night. Young couples will be sneaking into the bushes to have sex and talking about the weird man sitting on a park bench who they will assume is there to watch couples sneak into the bushes to have sex, as if that’s at all comfortable.

Wade won’t go into details, but he’s had twigs in so many places.

“What was that?”

Wade turns; there’s a man next to him. He’s wearing a broad-brimmed hat and glasses that are too large for his face. He’s feeding cheetos to the pigeons. Wade has a bad feeling, but he doesn’t know why.

Oh, wait. Okay, yeah. He knows enough about pop culture to get this one.

“Do you watch Rick and Morty?” He asks, flatly.

“The humor has a certain kind of depth to it that-”

“Don’t want to talk to you, thanks.” Wade says, standing to leave. Soon, it will be cold. Which means he probably needs to go find a bush to sleep in, or he’ll have the police called on him for the least fun reason yet. Hopefully he can find one that doesn’t look appealing enough for young lovers to try and have sex in.

Wade’s walking away, and quickly. He realizes a couple of steps in that he’s left his box on the bench, but he still continues walking. Talking to this man is not worth his limited edition Voltron hoodie, and also he plans to hide in a bush nearby and try to get it once he leaves. It’s not that he hates Rick and Morty, or has even ever seen a fucking episode. It’s just that he hates that one guy, in particular, on principal.

“Not even if I know a place for you to stay?” He asks.

Wade stops walking. He hates himself a little more for every second that he spends turning around.

But his limited edition voltron hoodie’s security and a no longer being homeless together are too good of a bargain to pass up on.

“I’m listening.” Wade says, slowly approaching.

“You see, I’ve made a poor investment in a friend’s establishment, and he cannot find anyone to rent his apartments to. Mostly because they’re a little shabby, and everyone wants him to “fix things” and “not display graphic hentai in the lounge”, you see, he’s a free thinker not unlike myself and-”

“Cut the chit chat Cheeto-Hands McGee. What’s first month’s rent?”

“We’re willing to take nothing, assuming that you sign a contract binding you to stay with us for five months.”

Wade considers it.

He decides that it’s his best option right now. Mostly because he can still smell the piss (again, not his piss) radiating off of his box.

“Alright, Mountain Don’t. You’ve got yourself a deal.”


Peter is a nervous wreck the day he’s scheduled to depart, all his ugly insecurities rising up from beneath his carefully crafted mask. He holes up in his room, heart pounding and if he could die he thinks he might have a heart attack. His excitement has turned to sick apprehension and he toys with the idea of asking another virtue to take his place.   

But that would make him look weak and although none of the other virtues would hold it against him he refuses to back down from responsibility.

He’s not sure why, but in him is a deep-seated need to see all responsibilities to the bitter end. Some humans, as he understands, believe in reincarnation. He doesn’t know if it’s real, but perhaps that’s how his kind came to be. Humans who had reached the last stage of rebirth. He’s sure the answer lies in the libraries archives, buried somewhere, but he’s not inclined to seek it. It doesn’t matter to him. His purpose is clear, even if the reason behind it is not.

Still he wonders if their personalities were something carried on from another lifetime. Which would explain why he’s hunched into a corner, rocking back and forth. There was nothing about the human definition of Prudence that mentioned anxiety attacks or crippling stubbornness.

“Peter!” Gamora shouts, rapping on his door. “Time to go!”

“Don’t make me.” He whines, and the green skinned woman charges into his room. She stops in front of him, hands on her hips and narrowed eyes piercing his soul.

“Get up.” She orders, and Peter reluctantly uncurls. She wraps him into a hug, and he feels the wash of familial love pour over him.

“Gamora…” he begins, and then realizes he doesn’t know what he wants to say. “You should go. They need love more than prudence. Please, you can do more than me.”

Her lips curl into a knowing smirk, and Peter wishes he was as self assured as Gamora.

“Lets go, Peter.” She pulls him by his wrist and he drags his feet as he follows.

“I don’t even know where I’m going.”

“That’s okay; I do.” She provides, not slowing. Peter stumbles after her.


Gamora turns, a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. “Sin city.”

“Where’s--” He doesn’t realize they’ve reached the portal until her palm hits his chest and he’s falling back into the swirling mass.

Peter’s back slams into the dirty ground of a, thankfully, abandoned alley. He’s barely sat up when a backpack follows him through the portal, hitting him. He grunts, pain lancing through his back. He can’t complain, any injuries from the impact would be healed by tomorrow.

He sits propped against the alleys brick wall, digs into the bag. There’s a change of clothes, green slips of paper he assumes are this centuries currency, and a note.

In Gamora’s elegant script are the words, “suck it up, buttercup. Don’t forget you need a last name.” Short and to the point, just like the woman.

Peter rolls his eyes and picks himself up, slings the backpack on. He holds onto the straps as if they were a lifeline and sets off to join the fray of the human world.  


Saying things have deteriorated would be a massive understatement. New York, as he’d inferred from all the tourist merchandise, throbs with rot. He senses corruption all around him, a general sense of selfishness radiating from everyone who jostles him in the crowd. The last time he checked on earth it had been turbulent times. Children leaving their homes for war, coming home dead. So many dead, so many lives torn apart. But this, somehow, seems worse.

His skin crawls and Peter maneuvers through the horde of people, bursts out of it feeling violated. So many people, warm and dirty and touching him . He shivers. Why was earth so crowded? What else had changed while he wasn’t looking?

He supposes he’s going to find out.

Spending a day in New York is more than enough to break Peter’s spirit. He witnesses reckless and self-harming behavior at every turn. Drugs, alcohol, something called ‘tabloids’. Dread coils in his stomach. He suddenly wishes he’d taken Wade up on his offer to go together. Maybe things wouldn’t be so daunting if he had Wade’s blathering in the background.  

But he doesn’t. So he’s just going to have to ‘suck it up’.

He orients himself with goals. Goal one: find a place to live. Goal two: blend in with humanity. Goal three: save humanity from itself. Easy stuff, really. Not broad or impossible at all.

It’s a good thing Peter’s not a quitter. Although he thinks life would be so much easier if he were.

The rest of his day is spent wandering the city, looking for an apartment and giving influential nudges in the right direction. He sees a man debating robbing his parents waiting for the bus and sits next to him, willing him into a calmer state. When he’s less frazzled the man reconsiders. Thinks about asking for help, rather than taking it by force. When the bus comes, he boards it and Peter walks in the opposite direction.

By the end of the day he’s influenced a handful of people but found no place to call home. That’s when he sees it. A stout brick building, worse for wear but livable. In the murky window is a cardboard sign that reads, “Apartments. First month free, must sign contract.”

It looks like a crack den, to be frank, but Peter sprints up the crumbling steps and flings himself into the lobby.

“Apartments,” he says to the man openly watching pornography at the front desk. “Are they still available?”

The scraggly man eyes him.

“Sure are, kid, you just gotta sign your soul over to me.”

Peter sputters, “excuse me?”

The man waves a hand, “I’m kidding. But if you miss rent we’re entitled to one of your kidneys. Sign here.” He produces a leaflet of papers that can’t be legally binding and Peter signs them with the first last name he thinks of: Parker. The man reads them over and laughs to himself.


“We had another fella come in, his name started with the same letters too. A funny coinkydink, is all.”

Peter nods, eagerly takes the key given to him. “Oh, there’s no hot water. Did I mention that? And try not to breathe in the mold. Enjoy.”

Peter recalls another human idiom: beggars can’t be choosers.

His key clunks in the lock and the door swings into a reck of a room. Green mould streaks water damaged walls and trash litters the warped floorboards. One of the windows is busted, shards of glass still hanging onto the frame. The room smells like smoke and sin. Something pricks at the nape of his neck. This isn’t a safe place to live, he knows. But his options are limited and he’s lived worse places. All things considered, this place is slightly better than a cave.

He steps in and goes to shut the door.

A jarringly familiar voice calls out to him.


He whirls around, heart lurching into his throat. No. No.

Wade grins at him. “What are the odds we’d both end up in the same shit-hole?”

What are the odds indeed.        

Chapter Text

It's been a few days. And it's been absolute heaven.

Prudence has been suspiciously absent, working on some job hunting. Wade's already gotten laid twice, (who would have known that monster fetishes were a thing now?) and he's making bank as a stripper. Of course, since he's ugly as sin he influences his patrons to tip him a little extra, but he's legitimately good at dancing (he literally invented the art of pole dancing, thank you very much) and it's work that he finds fulfilling.

He's coming back home with a large cheese pizza, but no date. Something told him that he should be a little more conservative than he'd typically be on this fine day, and whatever it was was so, so right.

Because Prudence is standing in front of his door, his head leaning softly against it, and looks like he's just freshly been crying.

Wade's heart has always been soft. For being lust, he has a whole lotta love to give. And yeah, that pickup line didn't work on Gamora, but whatever. It was still true.

"Hey, Petey." Wade says, his heart giving a little squeeze. Peter pulls his head off of the door and looks at Wade with sad little big brown doe eyes, and Wade feels himself melt a little. "Is something gettin' ya down?"

"Can't find a job." Peter replies, sighing. "I'm trying, I just... I can't type on a computer, I don't have a cellphone, I don't have a social security number, whatever the everloving fuck THAT is."

Oh, wow, he was cursing. That probably meant that it was pretty bad. It wasn't that he didn't curse, per se, but he tends to refrain from it unless the situation can really use a good old fashioned f-bomb.

"Hey, hey," Wade comforts, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder. He's warm through his clothing, and Wade fights back a little wave of lust. "We can find you a job. We'll totally do that."

"O-Okay." Peter agrees, a little shakily. "Alright. We'll find me a job."

"We've just gotta get you some experience with all this newfangled technology, and possibly some fake documents. Either way, the point is-"

Wade cuts off, because he gets what is possibly probably the best idea in the entire history of mankind. Oh, hell yeah. He can totally take Peter on a date right now, if he wants to. Peter is in need, and what he needs is exposure to this culture. Wade can make that happen. And he can make an attempt to wine and dine him at the same time.

Is it selfish to use Peter's sadness for his own personal gain? Absolutely. Does Wade give a flying fuck if it'll help them both out? No, not at all. He's not heartless, but he is an opportunist.

"What?" Peter asks. Wade realizes that he's been silent for a suspiciously long time, and continues.

"Sorry, lost my train of thought. You know, actually," He leans against the wall, standing up tall. Peter is a total twink, and if there's one thing that Wade knows, it's that twinks like to feel like they're shorter than you. "Why don't I show you around a little bit? I've got a great place where I can show you some human tech and you can get a little bit of experience dealing with the public."

Peter looks a little hesitant, but eventually, he nods. Wade grins triumphantly.

"What did you have in mind?" He asks.


"How the hell is this going to help me find a job?" Peter asks, looking up the skeeball machine. "Do they have a job opening for putting balls in holes?"

It’s clearly a shitty attempt at an innuendo, and Wade appreciates that Prudence is trying.

"Funny." Wade responds, grinning. "I was just about to offer you a job doing that exact thing, later tonight."

Prudence might blush a little, Wade can't really tell. God damn dark-ass arcade lighting is kinda hard to see through.

"Seriously." Peter states, directing the conversation back to something a little bit more relevant. "I don't get it."

Wade sighs. Oh, God. He's so happy he knows how to bullshit his way through situations like this; he wouldn't want to be too transparent here.

"Well, you need experience with human technology, right? This is the most basic stuff. You put the token," he shows off the shiny token in his hand, "Into the machine," he demonstrates, bending over to slip it in, "and then, it does its magic."

The balls release and roll towards them, clicking against each other as they come to a stop. Peter looks between Wade and the balls with his eyebrow slightly raised.

"Oh, yeah." He says, sarcastically. "This is so educational."

Wade picks one of the balls up out of the release bin and tosses it up, nailing the 10,000 points hole with accuracy. Just like he nails every hole with extreme accuracy.

He's good in bed. Wade's good in bed. That’s what’s being said here.

"It's fun. Not everything has to be a boring snooze-fest, Prudence." Wade says. He says Peter's real name low, for two reasons; one, he wants to make Prudence shiver, and two, they're in the middle of public and he doesn't wanna say a name that weird too loud. People would be looking at the two of them wondering why Peter's mama hated him enough to give him a name that fucking stupid.

"Hey, my life isn't a snooze-fest." He defends, bending over to pick up a ball himself. He tosses it with a startling accuracy, and it goes directly into the 5,000 point bin. Wade looks back and forth between him and the scoreboard, and grins. Ooooh, he's so feisty.

"You always play it safe." Wade counter-points. He picks up the third ball and shoots again, making it a second time. "You could make the 10,000 points if you wanted to. But you aim for the 5,000. Am I right?"

Peter pouts, and Wade tries not to feel a little bad.

"If I aim for the 10,000, there's a chance I won't make it." Peter observes. His arm snaps forward and the ball lands in the hole again, scoring another 5,000 points. He turns back and looks at Wade, defiantly. "This way, I know that I'll always make it in."

"True enough," Wade says. It's his turn again, and he bumps Peter aside just a little bit with his hip. "But this is a lot more fun."

Wade misses. He'd like to pretend like he did it on purpose, but he didn't.

He turns back to Peter, anyways. "See? Not a big deal."

Peter hip-checks him back, bumping him out of the way with a surprising amount of force. Wade's looking at him with a little bit of what might be wonder. Wow, he's... stronger than Wade was expecting.

The music low in the background, pulsing, makes this whole little dance feel almost erotic. Wade wonders if it's because he's Lust, or if Prudence feels it, too.

Peter picks up a ball, lines up his shot, and sinks it directly into the 10,000 point hole.

"Okay," Peter agrees, glancing at him over his shoulder. "Maybe you're right."

"Why don't you call me Mr. Right, hot stuff?" Wade blurts. But because he's used to the dumb shit he says, it still comes out just a little smooth. At least, that's what he'll say if anyone ever asks.

Peter lets out a little, uncertain laugh, and the illusion is broken. Wade sighs as he picks up the next ball, waiting for Peter to clear the way.

He has to keep this vaguely professional. C'mon, what is he thinking? Prudence isn't interested in him. He's Prudence, the exact opposite of everything that Wade is.

"That's probably why you don't have a job." Wade observes, as the game continues. "You keep trying to play it too safe. You've probably applied for some real frilly shit, like an accountant position at a laundromat. You need something that's a little bit more beginner's level."

Peter nails another 10,000, and the tickets start to pour out. They've gotten quite a lot, and even though Wade knows that he's being stupid hitting on Peter, he also knows that he's had fun. Maybe... Maybe just friends would work for them?

A voice that is neither his or Peter’s pulls him out of his thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

A little girl taps on Peter's shoulder.Two older people, presumably her parents, are standing behind her. She looks young. He turns, and Wade watches Peter's face soften. "Yeah?"

"Could you take our picture?" She asks, holding out a little camera. Wade knows that Peter would typically say no to a request like that, especially one dealing with human technology, which he clearly doesn't understand. But he also knows that Peter's a sucker for kids.

"Yeah. Just... what do I do?" He asks. The little girl turns the picture around, gives Peter a small rundown on which buttons to push for what. Wade mildly pays attention, noting how quickly Peter seems to pick it up. Which was, frankly, a little bit impressive, since it was a newer technology.

When she's finished giving him a rundown, she runs over to her parents and they all pose. Peter has a bit of trouble, but he gets the hang of it easy enough.

When he's finished, he hands the camera back to her, and she thanks him. Wade nods to her parents, who he respects immediately for not telling her to pick another person just because Peter was with Wade. These scars have scared away more than a few people over his time on earth.

Peter returns, and the family walks away. Wade looks at him, and strikes mental gold.

"You should do that." he says, gesturing towards the camera. "People can take pictures for a living. They put em in magazines and newspapers."

Peter looks thoughtful, before nodding. "That's... a possibility. Thank you." He says.

There's a small silence. Technically, they've accomplished their goal here; they could go home now, if they wanted to.

"... Wanna go test your new tech skills in the photobooth?" Wade offers.

Peter grins.


Peter lets Wade drag him to the arcade’s clearly not cleaned in a decade photobooth. They duck behind the black velvet curtain and squeeze into the narrow seat.

“You can sit on my lap,” Wade offers, and Peter barks a laugh.

“Good one, Wade. Give me a token.”

“Alright, alright,” Wade says, sounding playfully put out. “Here you go, bossypants.”

Peter examines the coin briefly before slipping it into the slot. Nothing happens. His brow furrows and Wade laughs, reaching for a small compartment directly beneath the coin slot.  

“Human tech doesn’t work all the time. Try again.” Peter grabs the token, ignores the spark he feels under his skin when their hands touch.

Wade is Lust , he tells himself, he probably makes everyone feel this way.

The token drops into the machine and a screen comes to life, counting down the seconds before the pictures will take.

The first one Peter is unprepared for and he looks awkward, although many people would say that’s how he always looks. The second and third he makes goofy faces with Wade, and a moment before the last picture takes rough lips press to his cheek.

When their laminated slip of photos prints, Peter will see his huge eyes and pink cheeks, but as it happens he can neither think nor see anything beyond his shock. The picture snaps and Wade pulls back, examining his face.

Peter is silent. His heart is thudding against his ribcage and he stares back at Wade, eyebrows arched high on his forehead.

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry, Prudence. I didn’t--I wasn’t--don’t hate me.”

Peter shakes himself out of his stupor.

“No.”  He clears his throat. “No, you’re, uh, it’s fine. Seriously.”

Disbelief falls over Wade’s face and Peter smiles reassuringly, fighting the impulse to kiss Wade back.

He won’t be a conquest. A notch on Wade’s belt. He can’t allow himself to be put into that position, to be hurt. The skeeball lesson pops into his mind. Aiming for something even though he might miss--but this isn’t losing a human game. This is his future, the greater good that’s on the line.

The risks outweigh the gains.

Wade is still watching him and he smiles again, feels himself flushing with embarrassment.

“It’s, uh, crowded in here. I’m just gonna--” he steps out of the photobooth. “That’s better.” Wade follows close behind him and Peter speaks before he can, desperate to avoid a conversation if possible. “So, making pictures. You said people buy pictures, we’ll need a thing.” He struggles for the word, hands making vague and unhelpful gestures. “Camera! Where can we get one?”

Wade seems eager to avoid talking about the kiss, too, and he jumps at the chance to explain.

“I know a place! Let’s go get one. Right now.”

His warm, scared hand wraps around Peter’s wrist and he’s pulling him out of the arcade and onto the bright street. Peter blinks, momentarily blinded, and follows Wade without being able to see where they’re going.

They go up a block and come to a stop under a rickety awning. Wade doesn’t let go of his hand and Peter doesn’t take it back.

“Rick’s pawn shop.” Peter reads aloud.

“Yeah, they’ll have something. I saw this place while I was looking for a place to crash.” Wade holds the door open and Peter hurries inside, shoves his hands in his pockets.

The store smells like mildew and history. There’s lacquered, scratched wooden furniture displaying other antiques throughout the store. They weave through bookshelves laden with nick nacks and worn, leather bound books. Their destination is the glass case beside the check-out, filled with anything legitimately valuable.

A wizened man, presumably Rick, hobbles over from behind the counter.

“Can I help you boys?”

“Hi,” Peter peers down at the strange array of devices. “I’m looking for a camera, for pictures.”  

The man looks at him skeptically and Wade’s hand lands on the middle of his back.

Wade laughs, “he means for professional quality pictures.”

The man nods, purses his lips thoughtfully. He rummages through the case and pulls out a bulky black camera.

“This one comes with a case, a strap, two lenses, the whole shebang.” Peter leans in, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it.

“I’ll take it.” He declares, and the man packs all of the equipment into its case. He takes it to what Peter now recognizes (and despises) as a computer. The man rings it up and tells him the price. Wade reaches for his wallet and Peter kicks his foot, producing the money Gamora packed him. At least math hadn’t changed… much.

“So where’s one of those places that develops pictures?” Wade asks, and the man’s brow pinches.

“That’s a digital camera, sonny. But Walmart develops pictures.”



They go to a cafe to let the battery charge and Peter studies the manual while Wade gets them drinks. He fiddles with the powerless camera, finding each button and memorizing its function.

Wade sets a cup down in front of him and Peter reaches for it thoughtlessly.

“I wouldn’t--” Wade begins to late and Peter is choking on the macchiato, hot coffee squirting out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. “Drink that one.”

Peter fumbles for a napkin, blotting at the mess running down his front.

“Sorry,” he mutters, looking down in an attempt to hide his hot face.

“No worries,” Wade slides the cup away from him and replaces it with one topped with a mound of whipped cream. “Try that one.”

Peter does, and sweet chocolate lands on his tongue. He immediately takes a longer sip, mindful of the temperature.

Wade drinks his own coffee and Peter wrinkles his nose.

“I spit all over that.”

“Oh, I’ve drunken worse.” Wade licks his lips seductively.


Peter alternates between reading the instructions and sipping on his hot chocolate, so absorbed he doesn’t notice the build up of whip cream residue on his upper lip.

“Peter? Peter?”

“Huh?” He jerks and looks at Wade. “What?”

“You’ve got,” Wade points to his lip. “Something on your face.” He grabs a napkin and reaches across the table, wiping the mess off Peter’s lip. “There you go.”

Peter stares at the other man, unable to speak for a long moment. He finally manages a mumbled, “thanks,” and goes back to examining his camera.

When the battery is charged and the cafe staff are sick of them, they head out to take some pictures.

“What should I photograph?” Peter asks, scanning the New York streets and coming up with no ideas.

“Oh!” Wade bounces on his feet excitedly. “I know!”


“I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here.” Peter says, looking over his shoulder nervously.

“It’s fine.” Wade assures, “besides, look at that. It’s beautiful.”

Peter looks out at the city skyline, shining with lights against the star speckled sky backdrop. It really is a sight.

“Okay,” Peter aims the camera, lines up the shot and snaps the picture. He takes a few more, including one of the silver moon, glowing through a screen of clouds. “Now what?”

“You point and shoot.” Wade provides helpfully.

Peter snorts. “At what?”

Wade gestures to himself, looking like the answer was obvious. “Funny. C’mon, I’m gonna need more than this to sell.”

They walk around for hours, capturing the nightlife of New York. They’re about to call it a night when trouble decides their time on earth has been too easy.

Peter is taking an artistic shot of a condemned building, behind it and blessedly unseen Wade is relieving himself. It was New York, after all.

An arm constricts around his middle and a hand slaps over his mouth. Peter drops his camera and grabs at the hand. The camera hits his chest, caught by the neck strap.

It takes a moment for Peter’s instincts to overcome him and he stills, calm and composed. It must surprise his silent attacker because they still too.

“What the fuck?!” Wade roars, rounding the corner. Peter’s arm snaps out and he twists in the persons hold, crashing his elbow into their face. The hulk of a man snarls, covers his face automatically. Peter leaps away from him and runs to Wade, camera clutched to his chest. Wade looks livid, and Peter grabs his arm before he can stalk forward to unleash a world of hurt on the mugger.

“Not worth it!” Peter says, putting forth his full strength in pulling Wade into the opposite direction.

He hears a low growl of protest, but Wade allows himself to be led away.

They run the whole way back to their apartment building, and when they’re in their hallway Peter bursts out laughing. He’s not sure why, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins translates to excitement and he can’t hold in his laughter. He leans against his door, heaving for air once he’s done laughing.

“That was crazy.”

“I should have broken that guys face.” Wade says bitterly, and Peter shakes his head, wipes at his eyes.

“You sound like Hulk.”

Wade shrugs, and Peter’s laughter must be infectious because he grins. “Well, you’ve officially checked off something from the New York ‘it’s gonna happen eventually’ list. Douchebag muggers.”

“At least my camera is safe.” Peter looks at the object fondly. He’d grown attached in the few hours he’d had it. As fate would have it, he’s pretty handy with photography.

“Where did those moves come from?”

“I’m Prudence,” Peter replies, dryly. “You know, caution is kinda my thing. I learned some self-defence, just in case…”

“In case?” Wade prompts.

“In case I ever needed it.” Peter finishes. He won’t admit he had been afraid to return to earth. That he had spent days in the library learning from human martial arts books. Peter grabs his door knob. “Thanks for your help, Wade. Goodnight.”


Wade goes home that night and lies in bed, thinking about Peter. They had a good time tonight.

He doesn’t want to rush things, can’t rush things, but he wants to hang out with Peter again soon.

Chapter Text

It’s been a week since that beautiful, lovely night with Prudence, that hot piece of ass. Wade’s been trying to focus on doing good work here on earth; he wants them to be able to stay. And he knows that he should be doing more.

But last night he got a girl who had been crying over a bad breakup to go home with someone new. And what with his influence radiating around New York, there were several sexy side-effects. Couples whose marriages had been brain-dead suddenly woke from a coma with a spicy new sex life, college girls who had been repressing their bisexuality (because wo doesn’t do that at first?) have been making out with their best friends, Tim from down the street finally made an appointment with a Dominatrix at a bdsm dungeon.

He’s been working up the courage for years.

Wade knows he’s doing a lot, but it just… doesn’t feel like enough. He needs a pick-me-up. He needs something that is guaranteed to make his day a little bit better.

He needs to talk to Peter, and he knows it.

Which is why it’s a good thing when Peter comes out of his room, camera in hand.

They’ve chatted a few times since the last time they really hang out. Wade knows that he was doing pretty good with photography; he’s sold some freelance stuff, taken a couple of portraits, all that jazz. And suddenly, Wade has an idea.

It’s not a great opening line, sure. But it’s good enough.

He walks over to Peter, grinning.

“Hey, Sugarbear,” He says, “Wanna come watch me dance tonight? There are a lot of strippers that wish they were actors, you could probably scout a few clients for some headshots.”

He knows that it’s goofy and that Peter would never set foot in a strip club. He’s Prudence, and Wade’s pretty sure that means that he’s a fucking prude.

But Peter looks at him, tilts his head a little bit. There’s a small smile that it looks as though he might be trying to squish, but he just can’t. Wade feels his heart melt a little bit. God, he has it so bad. “You know, actually, that’s not such a bad idea.”

Wade’s mouth drops open. “Wait, really?”

“You said it yourself; there might be clients there. And I’m not gonna lie… I’m kinda curious to see what one of those is like.”

Wade feels like he might have died and gone to heaven. Y’know, if heaven actually exists or whatever. He’s sure the answer is somewhere in those damn books in the library, but he’s not a big enough nerd to go through them all.

“You aren’t going to regret this.” Wade promises, excitedly. He turns back towards his door, mentally making plans. “I’ll be right back,” He promises, glancing back at Peter, “I just have to grab the highest heels I have. I’m putting on a special performance if you’re in the audience.”

Peter rolls his eyes, and Wade sprints away. He’s gonna put on the sparkliest thing he has, probably. He’s definitely gonna Madonna the hell out of this bitch.


“Please don’t make me do this.” Weasel requests, holding up the CD with Wade’s selected song. “Every time I ask you to pick something less ridiculous to dance to, you turn it up a notch. Is there a reason? Have I angered a God or something?”

Wade stares at Weasel.

“There is no single song in the world more made for stripping.”

“You’re so, so wrong. Sometimes, subtly is sexy, Wade.”

“Sorry, but the word subtlety isn’t in my vocabulary.” Wade gushes. “Along with the words “police” and “illegal”, which I have never heard before in my life. And the word autoplushophilia, which I’ve admittedly heard, and am working hard to forget.”

“Shut up, you’re working in a strip joint. We all know you’ve been to juvie.”

Wade doesn’t feel like correcting him. Mostly because he knows that explaining that he’s actually older than the dirt they’re standing on and has superpowers that could convince a police officer to let him go for doing just about anything is off limits.

“Whatever. Just play the song.” Wade says, raising his eyebrows. Weasel sighs deeply, but takes the CD and heads for the back room. Wade maneuvers himself away from the bar, heading towards the back room.

There, he changes quickly into his costume, barely wobbling on his four-inch heels as he applies false lashes. He doesn’t wear any other makeup; he just likes to frame his eyes. Even though there are people who work there who go full-out drag, the style just doesn’t work for him.

He hears “Alicia” exit the stage, and wonders why stripper names got so damn normal while he was gone.

“And next,” Weasel’s voice projects over the loudspeaker, slightly awkward and a little bit shaky, “We have up the man with a plan, he’s all muscle with a side of scars, give it up for Deadpool!”

He hears a small bit of applause and takes a deep breath as Alicia slips backstage. This is his cue. It’s now or never.

He walks out onto the stage, the lights dim.

They flash on, illuminating him. He looks down at the audience that’s accumulated, finding Peter in the small crowd. He’s had to influence people less and less the longer he’s worked here; some people had freaky fetishes, and apparently, scars was one of them. He’s accumulated a small following; but he isn’t dancing for them tonight. Tonight, he’s dancing for Peter.

S & M comes on over the loudspeaker and Wade begins to dance, his hips moving back and forth to the rhythm as the music pulses around them, the lights low. He maintains a steady line of eye contact with Peter as he grabs hold of the pole and hoists himself upside down, wrapping his thighs around the cool metal. The shimmering skirt he’s wearing falls down, giving everyone a pretty good view of the thong he’s wearing.

He sees a five hit the stage and he grins.

He flips off the pole and continues the routine, the pulsing music starting to relax him. The butterflies fade away, and it’s just like he’s doing any other show. He turns around, twerks for a bit, comes back and swings himself around, reaching down and grabbing the bottom of his shirt. His hands close around it and he pulls it up over his head, throwing it into the crowd.

It hits Peter in the face, which he totally completely didn’t do on purpose.

But whether or not he did it on purpose, Peter’s flabbergasted and blushing face definitely makes it worth it.

He prances around shirtless, feeling the lust rise in the air. It feeds him, makes him feel energetic. He decides to do some trickier pole moves, bending and contorting his body into the sexiest shapes he can think of.

I may be bad but I’m perfectly good at it.

Wade hears the very last chorus begin and he feels a certain kind of loss. He knows that his big finish is coming, (hehe, big finish. Coming.) and he feels like he’ll miss this once his dance is done. After that, it’s off to do some private dances. And Wade likes feeling Prudence’s eyes on his body, even if he knows logically that nothing will ever come of it.

Wade does the big finish; he tears his break-away skirt off, hyper-aware of Peter’s eyes on his skin as he twirls around the pole, showing off his practically-bare ass and the growing bulge pressing against the front of his thong.

He gives a final twirl, the low lights reflecting off of the hills and valleys of his skin as he comes to a stop, the music fading out. Some more cash falls down and he makes a show of picking all of it up, bill by bill.

Typically, he would drag this out a little longer, but he knows he’s rushing a bit by the end of it. He wants to see Peter again.

When he’s finally finished collecting what’s probably around a hundred dollars, he heads to the back and dumps most of it into his locker, locking it firmly after it’s done. He puts fifteen dollars in the big bucket near the changing room, the House’s percentage.

Normally, he’d do lap dances now. But he doesn’t want to do that; he wants to go and get a drink with Peter. A hundred is more than enough for what he needs today.

He heads out, seeing Peter and Weasel chatting each other up at the bar in the back. He feels a quick stab of jealousy-- Weasel better not be hitting on Peter. But then he remembers that Weasel prefers meatheads and the worry subsides.

The music gets louder the closer to the speakers he gets, but Wade doesn’t mind. Conversation, somehow, feels more organic with the pounding beat and the dim lights. Wade doesn’t want to explain that one.

He grins as he approaches the two of them, and swings a muscled arm around Weasel for good measure.

Gotta remind him he likes em beefy sometimes , Wade thinks. Or else he might try to cozy up with a hot little twink .

Wade tries not to think about why the idea of Weasel flirting with Prudence bothers him so much.



Peter agreed to join Wade at his work because… well, staring at the mans assets, he can’t really remember why he’d agreed to tag along. Perhaps he had been looking for an opportunity to spend more time with Wade? Seeking out the nervous happy feeling Wade made bloom in his stomach? Maybe that had been it.

Now, despite the evening being still young, Peter feels like their time together has been too long. And too… lacking of clothes. The bar isn’t packed, but he suddenly feels claustrophobic. Like the elastic collar of his T-shirt is too tight.

He weaves his way to the bar, where he finds refuge from the other patrons there to ogle Wade’s nakedness.

“Enjoying the show?” A scruffy looking man wearing eye glasses asks from the seat next to him.

“Uh…” Is all Peter manages to say.

The man continues regardless of his response. “Your boyfriend picks the most awful songs. He makes me wish I went to college instead of DJing for a strip club.”


Peter realizes only then that Wade’s shirt is still clutched in his hands. His mouth opens to refute the presumption when the devil himself walks up from the stage exit. His muscular arms constrict around Weasel’s shoulders.

“See, sugar? I rock that song.”

“Oh god, are you going to pick ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ next?” Weasel asks, shrugging Wade’s arms off his person. “You’re sweaty, Wade.”

“You love these glistening muscles.” Wade winks, and Weasel rolls his eyes.

“Go wipe your sweat off on your boytoy, I have to go start the next set.”

“Peter?” Wade looks at Peter, surprise coloring his expression. “He’s not my boytoy.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Is all Weasel says, walking off to introduce the next dancer.  

Peter thrusts Wade’s shirt at him. “Here,” he blurts, face aflame with embarrassment and anger.  

How stupid could he be? Of course Wade wasn’t interested in him. Or if he was, it was only because he was Prudence. A supposedly chaste virtue. Wade has any number of customers who would gladly go with him to bed, what need did he have for someone like Peter?

“Did you like the show?” Wade asks, sounding hopeful.

Peter tastes bitterness in his mouth as he forces a smile. “Yeah, it was… sexy.”

Wade grins triumphantly. “Thank you! I knew you’d have fun, and look at all that green. I made it rain.”

“What, really? That’s amazing. How?” Peter asks, searching for a window to see if Wade really had made it start raining.

“You think so? Let’s go get something to eat. My treat.”

Peter hesitates, can’t think of a reasonable excuse to decline. “Fine. But, you’re going to change, right?”

Wade looks down at himself. “Why? You said I was sexy.”

Peter cocks a brow. “I’m not going anywhere with you half-- mostly naked.”

Wade pouts, “I have a change of clothes backstage. Hold on.” He runs off, leaving Peter to nurse a stomach ache. He could have stayed home. He could be out taking pictures.

But no. He had to not only take a shovel from Wade, he had to dig his own grave, too. There was something fundamentally wrong with him. His instincts had warned him this outing was questionable, and he went anyway. What was it about Wade that made him want to throw caution to the wind?

“Ready to get some grub?” Wade interrupts his thoughts, returning in much more modest blue jeans and a T-shirt for a band Peter doesn’t know.  

“Sure.” No. No, he isn’t ready.

“Great! I know a diner with killer blueberry pancakes. I’m not talking eggo, Petey. Now... leggo.”

Peter blinks. Wade frowns, “yeah, not my best pun. Seriously though, these pancakes are to dine for.”

Peter stares at him blankly and Wade stomps his foot. “You’re supposed to laugh.”

“I only laugh at things that are funny.” Peter says dryly, and it’s Wade’s turn to blink. A grin spreads onto his face.

“Come on,” Wade starts for the door. “I’m starved.” He steps onto the street and Peter follows, engulfed in the fading glow of sunlight.

“It’s not raining.” He says, confused and slightly disappointed.

“What? Why would it be raining?” Wade turns to look at him.

“You said you made it rain..?” He starts, and then feels foolish. That had to be another human idiom he wasn’t familiar with. Wade’s howling laughter confirms his suspicions.

“That means I made lots of money.” He gasps out, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh god, that’s the best.”

Peter’s shoulders hunch forward and he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Oh,” is all he says.

“Did you actually think I made the heavens burst open with rain?” Wade’s face is red from laughing and he’s wheezing, doubled over on the sidewalk as he catches his breath.

“Shut up.” Peter mutters.

Wade does not shut up, and the walk to the diner consists entirely of Wade making fun of him.

The ridicule ceases when they’re seated at a booth at a homely restaurant, the plastic covered seat rippled with cracks and fraying parts. Peter flicks absentmindedly at leftover crumbs, avoiding Wade’s eyes. It’s childish and silly, but Peter withdraws into his shell.

He’s angry at Wade for making fun of him, angry at him for flirting with that man, and most of all he’s angry at himself for letting Wade influence his emotions.

“You feeling okay, Peter?” Wade asks, mirth gone from his voice and replaced with concern.

Damn him.

“Yeah,” Peter lies. “You said the pancakes are good?”

“The best. Y’know, it’s unbecoming of a virtue to lie.”

Peter purses his lips. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

“There it is again. What’s wrong?”

Peter looks out between the slats in the blinds that cover the window. How is he supposed to answer that? ‘Yeah, actually I have a huge crush on you but I know it’ll never work out so can we just pretend to be good?’

Wade would never let him live down eternity if he admitted that. So he can lie again, or admit a different truth. And since he’s a terrible liar, a partial truth seems the smarter route to take.

“I don’t think I’m doing much good. Here, on earth, I mean.”

“Oh.” Wade pauses. “You’re serious? Prudence, you’re doing so much. More than I am, that’s for sure. I’m out there making old people get freaky, you’re making junkies think about their futures like they have one.”

Peter ducks his head, remembering the two kids who had been moments away from robbing a convenience store for drug money when he came across them. He ‘ran into’ them again at the bus stop he’d found them at, their backpacks on while they waited to go to school. It had been a good moment.

But every good moment is always inevitably ruined. It seems no matter how hard he tries, how much he cares, it won’t ever be enough.

A warm hand slides across the table and covers Peter’s.

“Don’t look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Sad.” Wade answers. “You’re doing great work, Peter, trust me.”

Peter’s heart flutters. He pulls his hand back. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Their food comes and Peter eats in relative silence, piping up only when there’s a lull in Wade’s jabbering anecdotes.

As promised, Wade pays the bill and Peter does not allow himself to consider this a date, even when Wade walks him to his apartment and makes a joke about a goodnight kiss.  

He tells Wade goodnight and shuts the door on him a little bit harder then he intends to. He paces, sinks further into melancholy. Wade flirting with that man. Wade kissing his cheek. Wade’s hand on his.   

Wade Wade Wade.

“Fuck!” Peter yells into the damp emptiness of his apartment. The only reply is the slow drip of brown water from his leaky kitchen faucet.

Chapter Text

Wade has had a lot of dumb ideas in his life. He doesn’t want to expose Prudence to any of them. In fact, for once in his life, he’s considering… and trust me, this phrase does trigger his gag reflex… playing it safe .

He wants to get to know Prudence a little bit better, but all of their outings so far have been… outings. He wishes that they would be able to slow down and share a little bit of time together, in a more intimate setting. So… Here Wade is.

Buying an Xbox. For completely unselfish reasons.

It has nothing to do with the fact that he could totally watch porn on it with the “internet” feature. That he still has to figure out how to use, but oh well.

The point is, instead of asking Peter out on a big, extravagant outing, Wade has decided to invite him over and try to figure out technology with him. Exciting stuff, no?

Not all that exciting. But, uh… Definitely a safer idea than another public encounter. Wade’s all about the nightlife, clubs and strip bars and shitty arcades, but he knows that Prudence would prefer something safer. So, he’s taking Prudence’s feelings into consideration. He’s having a more intimate date that more accurately reflects Peter’s interests.

He’s… playing it safe, for lack of a better term.

“Here’s your new Best Buy credit card information.” A pimply teenager wearing a constrictive hat tells him, handing him a pamphlet with a bored look in his eyes. It’s cold in the store. Wade doesn’t know why, but he feels claustrophobic here.

“So paying on this,” He clarifies, “Will raise an imaginary numbers score attached to my social security number, and I’ll be able to get a better apartment?”

“Listen, dude, I work at Best Buy.” The man says, his voice filled with exasperation. “There’s not much I can tell you about all that. But, uh, yeah. I think so.”

“Thanks.” Wade says, picking up his bag. “You’ve been about as helpful as the ticket to a Cher concert in 1977 that I found on the ground yesterday.”

The guy blinks vacantly at him.

Customer service work has definitely rotted his brain.

Wade knows when to quit occasionally, so he takes his bag and heads home. On the way back, he spots a wrench lying on the ground next to a fire hydrant and picks it up. Some children are playing in their yard nearby with Super Soakers, laughing as they blast each other. With a few quick adjustments, the fire department officially hates him, and the kids are having a blast playing in the fire hydrant’s spray.

After all, after building his credit and deciding to invite Peter on this date, he needs to do something that’s a little reckless.

What? It’s not like he’s completely under Prudence’s influence.


Wade knocks on Prudence’s door later that night, his Xbox now successfully set up in his room. Fortunately, Fedora-o-clock helped him out setting everything up and get his settings configured for two-person gaming. Unfortunately, Wade now has one friend on his friend’s list, and he has the feeling that said friend is gonna be annoying as shit.

Peter opens the door and blinks up at Wade, bags under his eyes and his hair a wreck. He’s clearly just woken up, and the sight of him looking so damn cute does shit to Wade’s heart. Major poundage, right there. And not the kind he’s used to.

“So,” He says, leaning against the door frame. “I have enough Chinese takeout for two and I got one of those newfangled video-game machines. Wanna pop over and find out what the fuck a Fortnight is?”

Peter smiles, a small, secretive smile. A couple of emotions flicker over his face-- too fast for Wade to read, and it makes all of Wade’s undigested Orange Chicken flip in his stomach.

Finally, it settles on ‘pleased’. “Actually, I think I’d like that.”

Wade grins, stepping aside. “Be my guest, Petey-Pie.”

He receives a small, playful glare for the nickname, but it’s nothing that Wade can’t and hasn’t handled before. He knows he can be annoying as shit. But he also knows that some people like that, and he’s holding out every ounce of hope in his body that Peter is one of those people.

He opens his apartment door, showing off the Ikea futon serving as both his bed and his couch, as well as the fairly large TV he’d gotten, mostly for porn. Of course, now it was going to serve another purpose.

He gestures towards the cracking counter, the takeout boxes scattered across the top of it, and turns back to look at Prudence.

“Take however much of whatever you want. I have plenty.” Wade clarifies. “Also, my fridge doesn’t work, so if it doesn’t get eaten tonight it’s getting tossed, lest the rats come out and crawl across this… absolutely pristine counter.”

The counter is one of the dirtiest things Wade has ever seen in his life. He hates it so much. But no amount of cleaning is going to erase the dirt in the multitude of cracks.

Prudence doesn’t hesitate to go over to the spread and get himself a heaping plate of food. In the meantime, Wade turns the television on and settles into his seat on the floor.

The Ikea futon is only half-built. He can’t figure out how to put the actual legs on it, so it sits on the floor on top of some pillows he’s picked up from Bed Bath and Beyond.

God, Wade doesn’t know shit about having an apartment.

He picks up one of the shiny new xbox controllers and logs into his xbox live account (which Fedora also helped him set up). He clicks the largest option, starting up the game. It gives him the option for one-player mode, (which will match him with some other team mate at random) or two player mode (which will allow Peter to play), and he selects two-player.

Peter takes the hint and comes over to sit next to him. The sun is setting, and since Wade hasn’t had the chance to pick up any curtains yet, the room is filled with a hazy yellow glow as the sun sets low on the horizon.

The television is, thankfully, spared from glare.

“Alright,” Wade says, handing the other controller to Peter. Peter’s mouth is full of food and his hand is half-raised to shovel another bite in, but he stops and puts it down, sheepishly taking Wade’s controller. Wade idly wonders how long it’s been since he’s eaten, and he hopes that Peter has been keeping up with the needs of his physical body.

I could help him out with one of his needs, if need be , Wade’s mind supplies, suggestively. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, and concentrate.

“Alright,” He says, gesturing towards the character selection screen. “This is a little more advanced than the arcades we went to. I still don’t completely have the hang of-”

“Done.” Peter says, pressing the button to signal that he’s chosen. Wade is staring at the screen with a little bit of shock.

“What the fuck.” Wade says, softly. Peter shrugs.

“It’s intuitive.” He defends.

It’s intuitive ,” Wade mocks, playfully. “Honestly, Peter, you’re such a nerd. You know what? We should go to comic con together and then invent five-dimensional chess. Sounds like a blast, right?”

“We’re the only beings that even know all five dimensions exist,” Peter scolds, playfully. They can’t see beyond three, so Wade knows that Peter is fucking with him. “So we’re the only ones that could play it.”

“Yeah, and you’re such a nerd that you would love that. You’d make all the sins and virtues form chess teams and face off.”

Peter pauses, turning to Wade, incredulous. “I hate it so much that that’s actually a good idea. I know you were joking. But-”

“Don’t.” Wade says, laughing. “You don’t wanna see what the Hulk looks like when he’s lost a board game.”

Peter laughs at that, too, and the silence afterwards is comfortable. Wade selects his character, and they begin the game.

They lose in the first thirty seconds; first team eliminated, in fact. The instructions were difficult to grasp, and the payoff for grasping them was minimal when everyone else had clearly been playing this for so much longer than they had.

“Next time, let’s not spend so long looking for supplies.” Wade suggests. Peter turns to him.

“Now who’s the nerd?” He mocks. Wade grins.

“It’s still you, sugarplum.” He teases. “I’d be willing to bet a blowjob on it.”

Peter blushes, and gives Wade a side-eye. “Giving, or receiving?”

Wade feels his cock harden a bit, but he shifts to keep it mostly out of view. He doesn’t want Peter to know how serious he actually was. He knows that it would just freak Prudence out. “Either would be a treat with you. Pun intended. By the way, I don’t have a gag reflex.”

They continue to banter like that through the next few games, playfully yelling at each other when they do something wrong, and Wade starts to forget about the reality outside of it all. He forgets that they’re a Sin and a Virtue, he forgets that they’re on earth on a mission, he forgets all the reasons why he shouldn’t genuinely like Prudence, like, a whole fuckin lot.

He likes Prudence as much as he likes ordering three waffles and putting eggs and bacon between each layer to make a large and highly impractical breakfast sandwich.

They do progressively better with every round that they play together.

Time has gotten away from them.

Wade’s sweating, his concentration unwavering, as he smashes buttons like his life depends on it. He feels like he’s floating on a cloud.

A tense, all-out-warfare cloud.

Peter is biting his lip beside him, working as fast as he can with the controller. They get shot at, and Wade builds a wall to block the bullets.

“On your left, on your left!” Peter shouts. Wade turns to the left, and barely gets something up in time to stop the other player’s incoming bullets.

“Wanna know what leans to the left?”

“Absolutely not, but I’m guessing you’re gonna tell me-”

“My massive penis.” Wade interrupts, very pleased with his timing. He can practically hear Peter’s eyes rolling.

Peter climbs up the ladder he’s just finished building. The other team is now tearing down Wade’s walls, and Wade turns and climbs up with him, too. Peter is already at the top, already shooting.

They’re the last two teams left.

It’s taken them hours to get to this point.

Wade and Peter shoot, in tandem, each taking a different target. Wade takes his out, barely in time. Peter gives a small squeak, and Wade jumps in and starts shooting at the other one. Peter’s almost out of health, and Wade knows that they need to be wrapping this up.

“Do me a favor,” Wade requests, talking to the other player, “Die for me, okay? Just a little bit.”

Peter snickers from beside him, and finishes replenishing his health with items. He comes back out and shoots with Wade.

Neither one of them are sure who makes the shot.

But the other player is dead.

Rambunctious joy overcomes Wade, and he can tell that Peter feels the same way. He jumps up, pumping his hand in the air in victory. Peter’s jumping up and down too, howling his joy.

Wade forgets. He forgets everything. He forgets to be nervous.

He wraps Peter in a big hug.

It must catch Peter off guard, because he goes stumbling backwards. Luckily, he lands on the futon. Unluckily, Wade comes down with him, and he lands unceremoniously on top of Peter, barely managing to catch himself before he crushes the little guy with his muscular body.

Alright, so Peter isn’t little. But he’s also not as tall as Wade, and Wade will make fun of him for it until the day he’s dead.

Peter’s beautiful from this angle. His body is pressed flush with Wade’s, sending heat radiating through his core. Wade feels his cock start to harden, and is mildly mortified to find that he has absolutely no single idea how to hide it. He grins instead.

“We make a pretty good team, at least when it comes to murder.” He teases. “Wanna go on a Bonnie-and-Clyde esque murder spree? We’d be legends.” He offers.

Peter’s eyes are the most gorgeous color of brown. He looks deeply into them, and he just knows deep, deep down that this is right .



This is wrong. So wrong . Wade’s body covers him, that dazzling stupid smile beaming down at him. Peter can feel the warmth of Wade’s skin seeping through their clothes and he can’t stop his blood from swirling downwards. Wade is still grinning, eyes sparkling with what Peter perceives to be affection.

Memories bombard him. That man at the bar and Wade’s hands on him, the various men and women he’d heard coming and going at odd hours of the night from Wade’s apartment. The moans and thumping he’d heard far too often through thin walls.

Wade is Lust, Peter couldn’t hold his stamina against him. He couldn’t blame a creature for following its instinctive drive. He couldn’t blame Wade for the jealousy that flared within him everytime he heard the man having sex.

No, none of that was Wade’s fault.

It was Peter’s.

He allowed himself to get drawn into Wade’s gravity, to fall in love with those expressive eyes and lame jokes. This is his fault for letting his guard down. When his heart shatters, it will be his fault and he’ll be the one to pick up the sharp and gleaming pieces.

These thoughts race in and out of his mind in only moments of real time. Emotions spill across his face and he can’t stop it. He blinks back the burn of tears and his palms slam into the sturdiness that is Wade.

“Get off me!”

Wade looks like a kicked puppy and Peter’s heart aches.

The sorrow is swiftly replaced with anger. How dare he look so hurt, how dare he make Peter feel guilty when the source of all of his problems is Wade.

Peter pants, standing over Wade who is still sprawled on the futon. His mouth opens to apologize and all that comes out is a small, choked sound. It’s dramatic and he’s hundreds of years too old for this, but Peter turns and dashes out of Wade’s apartment. Yanks his door open and slams it behind him. Shaking, he leans against the wood and sinks to the floor. He hears the stomp of Wade’s footsteps in the hallway, feels them vibrate through the rotted hardwood.  

“Peter!” Wade says, right outside his door. “Peter--I--I’m sorry.” He sounds so heartbroken and Peter knows he can’t leave things like this, sitting on the floor in a crumpled heap while his friend thinks he hates him.

His legs are heavy as he forces himself to stand. He opens the door, one of the last lines of defence he has between himself and Wade.

The man’s face is contorted with worry, doubt.

“Wade, I’m sorry.” Peter says before Wade can speak. “I’m sorry I’m such a shitty friend and I’m sorry but I can’t--I can’t do this anymore.” God those words cut out of his mouth like glass. “It’s not you, it’s me.” And he’s officially a teenage girl. Great.

Wade is so shocked that he can’t reply and Peter closes the door. Slaps up more walls to distance himself from what would be the ultimate risk. Wade is skydiving without a parachute and Prudence belongs firmly on the ground.  

He lets his tears fall. Emotions form a slurry inside him: anger, sadness, longing.

He is torn. Half of him wants to blame Wade and the other half wants to blame himself. The two sides war and in the end he’s left feeling the same as when he started.

He’s never felt this conflicted and he doesn’t know how to cope with it.

The impulse to do something reckless--not Wade--strikes him. Something that will take his mind off of all of this.

Peter walks to his warped window, the glass spiderwebbed with cracks, and forces it open. He hesitates a moment, looking down below, and then hauls himself up and out of it, landing in a crouch. The fall hadn’t been far, but for a human it could have easily been damaging. It could have been damaging to Peter, too, but physical wounds would heal. His knees creak in protest as he begins walking and he ignores them.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He just knows he needs to go somewhere.

Peter wanders aimlessly, and finds himself at the same coffee shop where Wade took him so they could set up his camera. He stands outside the door, stares at his reflection for a moment, and a bell jangles as he enters.

There’s a scattering of people inside, some teenagers crowding the bar with a large pile of sugar packets between them, a man reading on something called an ‘ipad’, and a few people in line waiting to order. Peter scans the menu as he waits, unsure of what Wade got him last time. What Wade had seemed to know he’d like.

“That’s 5.37.” A barista with frizzy hair pulled into a braid says, and the woman in front of Peter digs through her purse.

“Crap,” the redhead mutters. “Sorry, I forgot my wallet. I’ll be back.”

“I got it,” Peter volunteers, pulling out his wallet filled with his freelance photography money.  

Vibrant green eyes turn to him and glossy lips tug into a smile. “Thanks so much,” she says, although she doesn’t sound surprised. She is knock out pretty--people probably buy her coffee all the time. Wade had explained to him that in bars if you wanted to sleep with someone you bought them an alcoholic beverage. Peter hopes that human custom doesn’t translate to coffee.

“Uh, whatever she’s having, make it two.” Peter says, handing over a twenty.

“Thanks, you’re saving my butt.” The woman says, smiling again. Her lips are full and her teeth are white, perfectly aligned. Her smile would make any man swoon, but Peter looks at it and thinks about Wade’s smile. His goofy, crooked smile.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Mary Jane,” she says, and Peter frowns. Then he realizes she’s introducing herself.

“Peter,” he extends a hand and she shakes it. “Nice to meet you.”

“Two caramel fraps with extra whip on the counter!” A barista calls, and Mary Jane grabs them, hands Peter one of the drinks.

“These are so good but so bad,” she gushes, offering him a straw. He tears the wrapper off with his teeth and takes a long sip, sugar assaulting his taste buds. At least it wasn’t hot and bitter like whatever Wade had ordered. “If you don’t have anywhere to be, we can sit together.” Mary Jane says, and Peter agrees. Anything to keep him out of his apartment, away from the short distance between himself and Wade.

They steal a table not occupied by teenagers and Mary Jane rests her chin on her hand, watching him with interest.

“So, Peter, how are you?”

“Uh, oh, fine.” He replies automatically, and her shiny hair moves as she cocks her head.

“You hesitated,” she points out. “You’re not fine.” She says this with such decisiveness that Peter wonders if he really is just a terrible liar.

“Well, no, I’m… going through some things.” He admits, and talking to Mary Jane is so easy. Like talking to Gamora.

“Tell me about it.”

He shouldn’t. She’s a stranger and normal people don’t spill their guts to strangers, but something about her soft round face and intense eyes, focused on him like he’s the most interesting thing in the world, coax words from him.

“...There’s this...guy. My friend, and we, well I kind of… have a thing for him? But he’s… he has lots of people who sleep with him and…” Peter trails off, unsure of how to explain the situation.

Mary Jane doesn’t wait to interject. “He sounds like a man whore, and I know man whores. They’re fun for fun, but not relationships. You know what you need to do after rejection, or a breakup?” She tells him before he can ask. “Get back on the horse! Go out and find yourself a cute guy, treat yourself. There’s this great app,” she grabs her cell phone, another piece of human technology that confounds Peter. She shows him a colorful little box with the words “phone sex--hot singles in your area” on it.

“There’s a dating section and a hookup section,” she explains. “It’s great for finding a quick date.”

Peter nods, thoughtful. Maybe that wasn’t the best advice he’d ever heard, but Mary Jane had a point. Someone new, an over the phone fling, might take his mind off Wade.  

“Can you help me download it,” he asks, handing over his phone. “I, uh, just switched from a rotary.”

She obligingly takes his phone. “A landline,” she says the word like it tastes bad. “Weird!”

Mary Jane helps him set up an account and before they part ways Peter grabs her hand gently. He feels a deep sadness inside her, one his supernatural influence won’t be able to combat.

Still, his human influence might be able to. “Thank you for your help, Mary Jane. You are a beautiful spirit.”

He disappears into the foot traffic before she can responde.


Anxiousness coils in Peter’s stomach and he sits at the edge of his bare mattress. His phone is in his hand, non threatening and inanimate. Yet it seems to taunt him, to defy his resolve to click a button that will connect him to another person.

Well, he won’t stand for a phone mocking him.

The dial tone draws on for what seems like an eternity and when he’s about to give up someone answers.

“Hello?” The voice is a strangely familiar purr, low and husky over the phone. It’s probably just his imagination. Still, the voice reminds him so greatly of Wade’s that it makes his dick pulse with interest.

“H-hi,” he stutters, nerves consuming him. There’s a pause, and then,


His phone clatters to the floor and he fumbles to end the call.

Peter is now thoroughly convinced the universe hates him.  

Chapter Text

Wade doesn’t hear from Peter for two days, and the entire time he’s absolutely burning up with questions. Prudence had made it clear that he didn’t want to be with Lust, that he feels like there would be something wrong with it, but then Wade had found him on a fucking phone sex app??

He doesn’t know whether he wants to laugh or cry. It all just feels like so much , the thoughts swirling in his head. Maybe Peter had been experimenting. Maybe… That phone call meant that he was ready to try a little hanky-panky.

God, Wade hates himself.

And he knows that he’s probably wrong.

What if Prudence is no longer a Prude? Would it have weird cosmological impacts on the universe itself? Was Peter even technically capable of sex?

Not that Wade hates the idea of a relationship with Prudence, sans sex. In fact, he finds the idea perfectly viable, as long as he’s allowed to seek physical release from other people. (He respects Peter’s boundaries, whatever they are, he just personally needs sex to feel fulfilled).

But then, if Peter isn’t capable of it, what about the phone sex hotline? What was that garbage?

He’s a seething ball of frustration, and he’s already jacked himself to the thought of sexy, sexy Prudence three fucking times today.

He can’t take it any longer.

Even if they really and truly just aren’t compatible romantically, Wade needs to know that they’ll still be friends. When they played fortnight together, went to that arcade, when he’d taken Peter to that hill and shown him the city… he’d never felt more alive. He feels like they have a special connection.

He can handle friendship.

He can’t handle nothing.

Unfortunately for Peter, he can also handle a little bit of breaking and entering for a good cause, and this is a good cause. Don’t get him wrong; it’s not like it’s charity , but. Well. Friendship? That’s a good enough cause to commit a crime.

Besides, he isn’t even sure whether or not Peter knows how to call the cops, so he probably isn’t get in trouble for this, even if he is pissed.

Oh, shit. He should probably teach Peter how to call the cops.

He’s sitting on the deep brown couch that Peter’s bought, facing the door, contemplating this and everything else. His brow is furrowed and he feels like he has every reason under the sun to be here, and no reason at all. He’s scared that Peter really hates his guts. And that thought stings a little bit.

The handle shakes and Wade tenses, turning towards the sound. Peter accidentally locks himself out the first time, thinking that the house is already locked and he’s unlocking it, which somehow makes this hell even worse as every jiggle makes Wade want to hide.

But then if he’s found, he’ll look like a weird stalker. And he is, yeah, but Peter doesn’t need to think that!

It was acceptable in the eighties, when all of those funky songs about it were out. But nowadays, stalking is frowned upon .

The door swings open to reveal Peter carrying a brown sack full of groceries, and Wade feels like he’s never been more tense in his life. He puts on a brave face and decides to speak up, not wanting Peter to be frightened by his presence.

“So,” He says, chipper, “Looks like you’ve already picked up dinner. There goes my plans for the night. I bet you serve up some nice eggplant, if you know what I’m saying .”

Damn it. Why is he like this?

Peter still jumps, and he turns to glare at Wade like there’s ice in his very veins and it was Wade’s doing getting it there. Silence stretches on between them, and Wade wonders what’s going on in Peter’s mind. He would pay any amount of money to see Peter’s thinking right now.

Finally, the bitchy look subsides just a bit. His face is still making that weird, half-mad half-happy expression, but it’s a little more on the happy side this time around.

“I’m guessing it won’t do any good to tell you to fuck off?” He asks.

“Nope, but I love the feisty attitude.” Wade replies. Peter sighs, and something changes in him, just a little bit.

“Well, if you’re already here,” Peter says, unloading his groceries, “then you can help me make this. I’m a terrible cook.”

Wade gets up, walks over to the counter. If he was a weaker man, he would be shaking in his boots right now. From excitement, from anticipation.

He picks up a knife and reaches into the bags, finding the tomatoes and garlic and the magic bullet that Peter bought. Wade puts it together pretty quickly that they’re making spaghetti and he takes to dicing the tomatoes and onions, handing Peter a knife and the garlic. Peter’s eyes tear up from the onions, and Wade’s pretty sure both of them pretend that it doesn’t remind them of the other night.

They work in relative silence, which is new for Wade. The only sound between them is often the sound of the knives hitting the counter (Peter doesn’t have a cutting board) or the bubbling of the now-boiling water. Eventually, this graduates to the whirr of the food processor and then the sizzle of the sauce on the stove.

They’re finished with everything; the sauce is heating together into a lovely-smelling mush on one burner while another burner boils the spaghetti noodles that Peter’s bought. He didn’t get any meatballs, the fucker. Their silence is something tangible, some kind of a truce between them. Wade almost doesn’t want to break it. He’s afraid to renegotiate.

But he has to.

“So…” He starts. Peter turns to him, puts his hands on the counter, and jumps up so he’s sitting on it. The dilapidated cabinets creak as he leans against them, but Peter doesn’t seem to care. Wade tries, so hard, to be serious. But he can’t, especially not with so much on the line. He forces himself to smile. “Hot local singles in your area, huh?”

Peter’s gaze hardens, fast. He jumps down from the counter and starts to walk away, without a word. Wade panics and puts out his hand, physically blocking Peter from taking another step. The water boils in the background. He’s quiet for another moment.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” He says, softly. Peter’s eyes flicker up to meet his. They’re angry, and he can see that. But even more than the anger is the fear. Peter is afraid , and Wade doesn’t want that for him. He wants Peter to feel safe around him. “I’m just confused. I’m trying to piece all this together. Here’s a metaphor that your nerdy self might understand; this fucked-up situation is a lego set that came without instructions. We’re gonna have to talk to each other to figure it out.”

Peter’s mouth just barely twitches upwards in a grin, and Wade feels like he could melt. Fuck, he is so, so screwed.

“You can actually look up the instructions on something called a google.” Peter argues. Wade grins.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can. But I’m not that smart.” Wade says. He sighs, getting together his thoughts. His hands are boxing Peter in against the counter again, and he’s torn between moving and staying like this. Like this, he can feel Peter’s warmth. If he steps away, Peter can slip away again. But he risks Peter freaking out when they’re this close…. “The other night? I thought I’d pushed you away because it got a little… hot and heavy. I was ready to apologize and move on.”

Wade flashes back-- the confusion, the hurt when Peter had reacted like that. And then the absolutely world-shattering phone call when he’d decided to take solace in the voice of another.

“That’s… part of it.” Peter admits.

“But then why were you on that app?” Wade asks, his eyebrows knitting together. “I mean, I get it. You’re Prudence. The opposite of Lust. You don’t like sex-”

“Wait,” Peter interrupts, blinking. “You thought that I couldn’t have sex?” He pauses, clearly thinking, and Wade can practically hear puzzle pieces clicking together in his mind. “Prudence doesn’t mean I‘m a Prude, dumbass! It means caution! It has nothing to DO with sex!”

Wade’s brain grinds to a halt. Wait, what?

All this time, Wade’s been getting the two of them confused. It’s difficult to process, and for the first little bit, Wade literally doesn’t understand.

“So you can have sex?” Wade questions. “And you enjoy sex?”

“Yeah. I just use protection.” Peter says. “Condoms. Plenty of lube. I’m funny about who I sleep with. I like sex, I’m just careful about it. Because I’m Prudence . Which means caution .”

“We can’t even get STDs, why would you even worry about-” Wade starts. Peter gives him a sharp look and Wade shuts up, suddenly. He’ll push that one later. Now, this is about whatever messed up shit is going on in their feelings soup. “I mean, uh. Wow.”

“You’re a dumbass.” Peter says, but he’s clearly teasing. Wade’s brain is a mess of emotions. Somehow, this is worse.

Because if Peter is okay with sex, it was Wade himself that he has the issue with.

“So you freaked out because you’re just… not into me?” Wade asks. It stings, but he takes a deep, shaky breath. His voice rises as he attempts to force a cheery tone, knowing that he has no time to pout about this. His primary goal now is preserving their friendship , now that he knows that he’s the problem, and not sex in general. “That’s fine. I mean, I’ve dealt with unrequited feelings before. I just wanna stay friends at this point. You’re… really important to me, Peter.”

He looks up at Peter, hoping that he can convey that he’s serious.

He should have known that Peter doesn’t think he’s good enough. Hell, he doesn’t even think that he’s good enough. He knows that Peter deserves better than him. He’s ugly as sin and all he can do is make people in clubs dry hump to repress their emotions. Peter is… much more essential to life on earth. He deserves to be with Charity, or Love.

Or anyone. Anyone who isn’t Wade. Anyone better than him.

Peter’s been quiet for awhile, and Wade feels like he has to speak up again, to say something else.

He backs up a few steps, and he tries to ignore the pain inside of him that’s growing. He has to say something. The silence is killing him.

“I get that you aren’t into me back. Just please don’t kill our friendship over this. I promise I can respect your boundaries.”

Peter thinks, much shorter this time. He opens his mouth up, and Wade can see his pink tongue pressing against his front teeth as he goes to respond.

His first word is drowned out by the timer for the spaghetti going off, and both of them turn to look at it.

Wade grabs the pot, lifting it off the stove.

He has to keep busy, now. He feels like a crazy person, like he could burst into laughter at any point now.

But he won’t. Because he cares about what Peter thinks.

And it’s been a long time since anyone has made him feel this way.



Peter looks at Wade and doubts his earlier assumptions. Maybe… maybe he had been wrong about Wade. Made things that weren’t issues into them. Here Wade is, saying he wants to save their friendship, implying that he’d like to have more of a relationship but clearly stating he at least needs Peter as a friend. If his end goal had been only to sleep with Peter, why go to these lengths to preserve their friendship?

To keep Peter, and the opportunity, around?

He has this thought and dismisses it. It doesn’t sound right in his head, like he was searching for a reason to keep Wade away when there was none.

At the same time he isn’t ready to throw all his precautions out the window.

What had he said? “I get that you aren’t into me back. Just please don’t kill our friendship over this. I promise I can respect your boundaries.” That sounded an awful lot like Wade did have feelings for him. Real, serious feelings. Feelings he was prepared to give up on as long as it saved their crumbling friendship.

“Wade,” Peter begins. “How--how do you feel about me?”

Wade leans against the counter near the stove, and Peter finds he misses their previous closeness.

“Peter, I get it. Don’t make me say it. Just, just say we’re friends again. Please. I need that.”

Peter is struck by the need to move towards Wade, to comfort him. His foot slides forward and his mind says ‘be careful’. He walks right through that thought and hugs Wade. It’s innocent, his arms around Wade’s ribcage, their chests flush. Wade goes rigid and tentatively returns the embrace.  

“I’m getting mixed signals here, Petey.”

Peter rubs his face into the fabric of his shirt, breathes in the smell of it. He expects it to smell rank, but it just smells strong. Like musk and smoke, probably from the cigarette smoke that clung to his strip club patrons. There’s the faint scent of soap and Peter didn’t give Wade the credit of doing laundry, but apparently he had.

“I’m sorry.” Peter is apologizing for everything, for his stupidity and his childishness. For still holding onto his last vestiges of doubt in spite of the vulnerability Wade is showing him.

Years of watching human heartbreak had made him weary and jaded. Hyacinthus is the first example that comes to his mind, as it had been a particularly hard blow for Peter.  

The beautiful greek prince incurred the romantic attention of Apollo and Zephyrus and was subsequently killed by a jealous Zephyrus. And if Hyacinthus had just listened to the little voice in the back of his mind, Prudence’s voice, saying that this couldn’t possibly end well, he might be alive today. Well, no, he’d still be dead, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was that  the list went on! Cleopatra and Mark Antony, Helen of Troy and Paris. History was riddled with failed courtships and though Gamora tried to convince him otherwise, Peter hadn’t been able to shake his aversion to romance.

He knew, logically, that not all relationships ended in bloodshed and tragedy, but his experience and failures just enforced his cautious nature. They could have been fine, they could have lived had they only listened .

But Wade knows none of this.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, because he can’t possibly know what’s going on in Peter’s mind. If he could, they probably would be in a very different situation.

“For avoiding you. For being a dick.”

“Speaking of dicks--”

“Shut up. We’re having a nice moment.” Peter says, a cross between a laugh and a sob crawling up his throat. He still hasn’t let go of Wade.

“Right. Dicks ruin nice moments.” Peter withdraws, and Wade looks disappointed.

“Not always.”

“Okay, now I’m really confused.” Wade throws his hands up. “Do you like me, do you not? What’s the deal, Prudence?”

He sighs. Clearly, they have a lot to talk about. Honesty always said honesty was the best policy.

“I asked you first.” He says, and he really is too old to behave like this.

“I love you!” Wade exclaims. “I’ve always loved you, you dummy. How could you not know that by now ?”

Peter’s mouth falls open. He hadn’t been expecting that. He really hadn’t been expecting that.


Wade laughs, a hysterical edge to it. “I’ve been flirting with you for the last five thousand years!”

All that Peter can say, with the same disbelief, is, “what?”

“Prudence!” Wade yells. “How are you that dense?”

“Wha--really? You really like me?”

Wade’s frustration softens. “Really, really.”

“I-I, I just thought…” Peter stammers and trails off.


“I just… I thought you would never like someone like me.” His cheeks burn.

Wade’s brow pinches. “Why would you think that? You’re better than sliced bread.”

Peter suddenly feels horribly foolish, but he knows Wade won’t let this conversation drop.

 “All… that man at the bar. All those people, I figured… I’d never be enough? That you have so many people who adore you, why would you want me?” He finishes meekly.

Wade stares at him aghast, apparently too shocked to speak. He shakes his head, breaking free of his stupor.

“You’re the only one I want.” He blurts, and Peter sways on his feet. This influx of information is almost too much, so many feelings happening at once. He grabs the lip of the countertop to keep steady.

“Wade, I can’t take it if this is some kind of joke--” He doesn’t finish, lips on his preventing anymore words. He doesn’t flinch or push Wade away this time. He melts into the kiss, arms rising to twine around Wade’s neck. It’s slow and passionate. Peter can feel Wade’s love, and lust, for him.

They part, breathing heavy.

“I love you, Prudence.” Wade’s hand cups his face. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”    

Peter doesn’t forget all the reasons he’s tried to suppress his feelings for Wade, because maybe he’ll always be anticipating another foot dropping, but he does shove those reasons aside. He throws himself at Wade and the man stumbles back, right into the pot of spaghetti. It tumbles back into the sink and spills. Peter and Wade stare at it and glance at one another. They burst out laughing.

“Careful there, Peter.” Wade teases, and Peter yanks him into a kiss in response. “Aren’t we supposed to wait until the third date or something?” Wade asks between kisses.

Peter leans back. “We can wait, if you want.”

“I want to date the shit out of you.” Wade says, and Peter rolls his eyes.


“I’m trying to be romantic you little shit.”

“Alright,” Peter hums. “Let’s go out.”

“Right now?” Wade turns to the window, the dying orange light of the setting sun glowing through the dirty glass.

“Sure,” Peter says. “I go out to take pictures at night all the time.”

That earns a skeptical look. “That doesn’t seem safe.”

He shrugs, holds up his keys. They jangle and hanging from the metal loop is a canister of pepper spray. “And,” he searches his other pocket and pulls out a compact stun gun. “I haven’t had to use them. My influence is usually enough to keep people away.”

“Using your powers for selfish reasons? That’s not like you.” Wade teases.

Peter grins and pockets the stun gun. “It’s in their best interest not to mess with me.”



Peter takes his camera and instead of taking photos for newspapers, he photographs Wade. They hit every tourist location they can think of, taking selfies at every one. Peter buys them matching “I survived my trip to NYC” T-shirts. They hold hands in Central Park, and when they see couples having sex in the bushes, they walk the other way.

The sky is dark when they get home, and they stop outside of Peter’s door. Wade isn’t that much taller than him, but the man seems to tower over him. Peter rests his back against the door.

“Goodnight kiss?” Wade asks, and Peter grins.

Lips meet his, gently at first and then harder. Wade proves to be an excellent kisser, no surprise, and the strength drains from Peter’s knees. He braces himself on Wade’s sturdiness. An arm loops around his waist and draws him in, not an inch of space between their bodies. Wade deepens the kiss and waves of heat lap over Peter. He’s feeling the lust Wade feels for him. It’s overwhelming with want.

He whines in his throat and pushes against Wade, the tents in their jeans pressing together. Peter doesn’t realize he’s trembling until Wade pulls away.      

“Gonna wait for that third date?” He asks.

Chapter Text

Peter had started a slow fire in his veins with that kiss. Wade feels like he’s in his seventh heaven; Prudence, his eternal crush, is pressed up against him, warm and wanting.

“You know,” Peter says, grinning. “Somehow, I’ve forgotten my reason for saying that. I don’t see why you can’t come inside for… a cup of-”

“Your dick.” Wade interrupts him. Peter laughs and looks up, and Wade can’t resist leaning down and pressing their lips tenderly together again. This kiss is a little less rushed than the last, filled with warmth and goo that makes Wade’s heart feel like it’s going to beat right out of his chest. There is no urgency in this. They’re going to have all night to kiss.

The thought makes him want .

Peter turns, unlocking the door and pushing it open. They walk inside, and Wade lets his hand trail on Prudence’s lower back. He can feel the lust rising up in him when they touch, and he savors every moment of it.


Wade’s hand is hot on Peter’s back and giddiness is roiling in his stomach. He’s been with other partners, but none of them had been Wade . He knows how to have sex, he knows the mechanics and the feelings of it. But this is Wade . The guy he has genuine feelings for.

Nervousness swirls with desire and is pushed away when Wade draws him into his arms. The other doesn’t move to kiss him so Peter goes the extra distance. He shoves his tongue into Wade’s mouth, kissing him with a desperation that had been building inside of him since they came to earth.

Wade pulls back, laughing. “Easy, eager beaver.”

Peter chooses to ignore that and instead steps things up a notch. Wade may be Lust, but Peter is pretty sure he can make the man gasp with surprise.

His hands grasp Wade’s shoulders for purchase he uses to jump, wrapping his legs around his waist. He’s very pleased when a yelp like sound leaves Wade. It’s almost pained, like Wade is holding something back. Peter is determined to find out what that is.  


  When Peter pushes his tongue into Wade’s mouth and wraps his legs around his waist, Wade feels like he’s never been happier. But something is there in the back of his mind, a paranoia that he can’t quite get past. What if you go too fast ? His mind whispers. What if you scare him off?

They pull apart and Peter’s looking at him now, confusion and concern in his eyes. Wade doesn’t know how to react to that. He’s never really had someone care for him as much as Prudence seems to, and the feeling is intense.

He leans forward and kisses Peter again, doing his best to make it seem authentic while still keeping this whole thing at a reasonable pace. After all, they have all night. A little voice in the back of his head whispers again, and it says, But there’s nothing to stop you from ravaging him right now.

He ignores it, keeps with his slower, more deliberate pace. Peter is getting impatient, he can tell. Suddenly self-conscious, he moves one of his hands and instead of holding Peter up by his locked arms, he’s grabbing a handful of Peter’s plump ass.

Peter’s answering moan is absolutely exsquisite . Wade wants him so bad. Right now. In every single fucking position possible, and then some that shouldn’t be .


Hands grope his ass and oh god that feels so good . Peter’s head dips into the hollow space between Wade’s neck and shoulder. With their bodies flush together the heat between them is smothering and is he wearing too many clothes? He thinks he is. But to take them off he’d have to give up this closeness and that’s not a trade off Peter is willing to make at the moment.

He settles for sucking at Wade’s throat, mouthing a love-mark onto his skin. Wade whines and he needs to get as many of those sounds out of him as he can. He can feel the man’s erection against him and he doesn’t even think about it when he grinds down on it.

The hands holding him up let go abruptly and Peter drops to the floor.


“I’m sorry!” Wade says quickly, kneeling and looking at him with a worry that is more intense than necessary.

“I’m fine.” Peter assures, hand finding Wade’s nape and staying there. He moves in for another kiss and Wade moves away. “Wade?”

His friend’s face is twisted with conflict and Peter pauses. Is he moving too fast? He had thought Wade was into it but maybe he read the situation wrong? “Do you want to take a breather?”

“Baby you’re going to be breathing so hard you’ll need an inhaler when we’re done.”

Peter snorts, laughing so hard he starts coughing. “What?! What does that even mean ?”

Wade grins at him, suddenly looking completely at ease. Lips are on his and Peter falls back onto his elbows, Wade’s body over him. He moans into the kiss and his fingers curl into Wade’s shoulders.

Wade is definitely better at this than he is.


He had been stupid . Peter is willing and eager, kissing him like he’s starved for it. Wade’s not going to scare him off now. He’s not going to turn this sour.

He’s probably going to fuck Peter into this shitty hardwood floor.

Speaking of.

He’s hovering over him, breath heavy. He goes down to Peter’s neck, mimicking what Peter was doing to him. His many, many sexual endeavors have taught him that your partners typically do to you what they want done to them. It’s a quick and easy way to pinpoint what someone wants, and judging by the hitch in Peter’s breath, it was definitely effective.

He sucks on Peter’s pale skin hard, aiming to leave a large and dark mark. Peter is practically writhing underneath him, his hands gripping at Wade’s shoulders. Wade puts his weight on one of his hands and reaches down, his fingers trailing along Peter’s stomach as he makes his way down to the bottom of Peter’s shirt.

He grabs and begins to tug, sitting back as Peter pulls himself up, his arms lifting so that Wade can slip the shirt off of his body. Wade’s awestruck by the smooth, tantalizing skin that’s revealed. He wants to mark up every inch of Peter.

So he does.

He leans down again, gently pushing Peter back onto the floor.

“Wade,” He breathes out, and his voice is needy . And Wade knows exactly what he needs.

He sinks down, leaving a trail of kisses on Peter’s chest. He stops halfway down to flick his tongue over Peter’s pert nipples, eliciting a moan from him. Every few inches he sucks on a patch of bare skin, listening to the glorious sounds pouring out of Peter.

God, he’s like an angel.

He licks up Peter’s happy trail, and Peter visibly shivers. Wade knows his eyes are dark with lust, and he grins as he looks up. He can tell just how hard Peter is for him; he’s hovering just inches above his boner.

“What do you want?” He asks, his voice husky.


Peter’s mouth falls open wordlessly and it takes a moment for him to remember how to speak. And then he realizes what he has to say. Wade probably thinks he’s going to be embarrassed simply because he’s a virtue. Peter is happy to prove him wrong.

“Suck my cock,” he says, voice strong and even. Wade chokes on air. Peter can’t suppress a pleased smirk.  

“As you wish,” Wade says, a glint in his eye and Peter’s pretty sure that’s a reference but he couldn’t care less right now because his pants are being yanked down and a hot mouth is sucking him like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

He curls forward automatically, tensing. Wade pulls off and shoves him flat onto the floor. And yep, that’s hot. Wade returns to sucking him down to the base, his tongue doing things Peter didn’t know were possible. He’s glad they don’t have neighbors to hear him.

Wade is truly skilled. Peter wants to cry when the man pulls off him with a pop.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Well then don’t stop now!”

He’s surprised when Wade indulges him, wet suction making him squirm against the rapidly heating floor. Peter is close to coming and it takes all his will power to tell Wade to stop.

Wade does so, instantly. He hovers over him, that look of concern returning.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Peter smiles. Wade might not seem like it to any of the other virtues, but he was truly a gentleman.

“I’m fine, but I’d be better with your cock down my throat.”

If Wade keeps choking he’s going to pass out.

Peter does a quick scan of the room. “Sit on the couch for me?”

Wade scrambles to do as asked.

Peter grins up at him and he can’t not tease the man.

He strokes the length and kisses the side of it, musk invading his nostrils. He mouths along Wade’s cock, slicking it with spit. His tongue laps at the leaking slit and he can feel Wade’s thigh muscles straining under his hands. He takes pity on him and presses wet, suckling kisses to the head. Wade groans and Peter knows he’s doing a good job.

It’s been awhile since he’s done this, but he’s confident he can take Wade.

Halfway down he gags. He withdraws, gasping.

He expects Wade to laugh, or poke fun at him. The man does neither. A quick glance tells Peter he’s in rapture.

He takes a deep breath and takes Wade into his mouth, relaxing as he pushes down. In a few moments Wade is down his throat and Peter is then faced with the dilemma of what to do next.  

Bobbing his head will require too much coordination and he’s not sure he could keep a rhythm while breathing. He sucks as best he can, working his tongue along the underside of Wade’s cock.


Peter’s tongue dragging along the bottom side of his cock is the best kind of torture. Wade is probably harder than he’s ever been, throbbing in Peter’s mouth, his cock pressed snugly against the back of Peter’s throat. Peter’s blinking up at him with heady eyes that say that he actually likes doing this, and he’s way too experienced for this not to be something he’s done regularly.

Wade thinks about Peter blowing Socrates in ancient Greece. He’s not sure why it’s that particular mental image, but he knows that Peter spent an awful lot of time there and loved philosophy a little too much. Still, he redirects his attention.

“Hey, you didn’t blow Socrates did you?” He asks, because he’s really bad at redirecting his attention.

Peter chokes a little before pulling off of his cock, looking up at him in a mixture of confusion and amusement. He clears his throat a little. “Who told you about that?”

Wade grins and reaches down to run his fingers through Peter’s soft hair, giving it a nice tug. Peter’s face morphs into something lusty again, and Wade knows that he’s been forgiven for his lack of grace.

“Wanna keep going?” Wade asks, panting. His hand makes its way out of Peter’s hair and down to his jaw, caressing his soft skin. Peter makes a small noise of pleasure, and Wade feels his heart melt a little bit as his partner’s nose crinkles in indecision.

“I kinda want that, yeah.” Peter said, sighing. “But I also want you inside of me.”

Wade feels a wave of arousal radiate down him from the lewd confession. Peter’s eyes are blinking up at him, begging Wade to fuck him. He uses his hold on Peter’s hair and pulls him up into a hot kiss.

It’s teeth and tongues and heat as Wade works to wipe away any coherent thought that Peter might have. He loves the idea of making Peter lose his cool, and he’s ecstatic when it seems to work. The down side of that is that, when they pull away, panting, Wade genuinely forgets what he was gonna say for a few seconds.

Finally, it comes back. A single word. “Lube?”

Peter grins deviously and reaches into the couch cushions behind them, pulling out a bottle of lubricant. He hands it to Wade.

“You little shit.” Wade says, astounded. “I had a sex vixen under my nose this entire goddamned time .”

“Sex vixen? Excuse me,” Peter chastises. “The prefered term is nympho.”

Wade eagerly uncaps the lube and steps out of his pants, careful not to accidentally push Peter away as he tosses the jeans across the room with his foot. He’s.. Well, skilled at the art of subtly undressing. It’s a blessing and a curse.

“Turn around.” Wade tells Peter. Peter does as he’s told and turns, dropping to his hands and knees on the floor before crouching, giving Wade a glorious view of his supple ass. Wade almost wants to smack it, but they haven’t had a conversation about spanking. Yet .

Wade wastes no time. He inserts a single lubed finger into Peter’s tight ass, his cock twitching at the thought of sinking into that tight hole very soon. He shallowly thrusts in and out, letting Peter get used to the intrusion before adding a second finger.

Wade’s finger stings inside of Peter and he’d forgotten how long it had been since he’s done this. Wade would probably make a joke about him being able to turn coal into a diamond. He’s never been so thankful that he, unlike, Wade, has a filter between his mouth and brain.

Wade goes slow, and when he presses into the knuckle he brushes against Peter’s sweet spot. A moan he makes tells Wade as much without Peter having to say a word. Wade focuses his attention on that spot and Peter needs more .

“Wade,” he whines, “more.”

Another finger slides in beside the first one.

“As you wish.” He can hear the grin in Wade’s voice. The fingers scissor him open and a third joins them. The burn lasts only a few moments and Wade works the digits in and out gently.

“Okay, dick time.” Peter announces, and Wade is happy to comply. He slathers himself generously with lube and Peter stands, turns, and pushes Wade back onto the couch.

He straddles the man, leans down to whisper in his ear.

“Am I tall enough to ride this ride?” It sounds stupid in his head, a corny joke he learned from seeing a commercial for an amusement park, but he takes the chance. Wade nods vigorously.

“Fuck yes. Buckle your fucking seat belt because this ride is going to be bumpy.”    

Peter’s knees plant on either side of Wade’s thighs as he positions himself. “Let me help.” Wade offers, holding himself steady.

Peter sinks down onto him slowly, wincing around the fullness splitting him apart. When he’s fully seated he’s struggling to breathe around the new fullness and it’s amazing .

They sit unmoving for about a minute and Peter can feel Wade throbbing inside him.

He rises slowly and sinks back down, doing the same motion a few times before finding a rhythm. It doesn’t take long for his thighs to start quivering and he falls forward against Wade, panting.

Wade grips his ass and lifts him up to slam him down.

Peter cries out, arms encircling Wade’s neck. He’s not going to last much longer.


Wade doesn’t know how he’s supposed to hold out like this. Peter was moving against him, his hips working up and down, his tight hole squeezing Wade’s cock like it was made to. He can’t feel anything but pleasure. His fingernails dig into Peter’s thighs as he guides him up and down, sticking to a rhythm as they move. Wade feels good . He feels so, so good .

“Wade, please.” Peter whines. It takes every single ounce of control that he has not to viciously fuck up into Peter until he’s cumming hard, but somehow, he makes it. He increases Peter’s pace, groaning. Ohhh, fuck. Peter’s damn good at this .

Peter’s head rolls forward, his forehead pressing against Wade’s. Wade looks into Peter’s eyes and he feels his heartstrings flutter as he bucks his hips into Peter again. Peter makes a small, strangled noise of pleasure, and that’s all Wade needs.

He fucks up into Peter faster, harder. His thrusts are punctuated by little gasps and groans, Peter’s cock rubbing against his stomach between them. Wade wonders if it’s going to be enough to make him cum as he increases his tempo again.

God, it’s like every nerve he has is in his dick. Peter’s so fucking perfect. Wade’s holding on as long as he can, desperately trying to stop himself from cumming. He thinks of anything that isn’t Peter’s tight hole wrapped around him, but it isn’t enough. His thoughts can’t stray for long. Especially not when Peter’s lips crash down onto his, desperate and needy.

Wade’s thrusts keep going, and he feels Peter’s groan against his lips. Then, he feels something wet and sticky splatter across his chest, accompanied by a sharp gasp as Peter threw his head back, working his hips faster, trying to ride the wave of his orgasm.

Peter’s muscles rippling around him, combined with his sweet, sweet face overcome with pleasure, is enough for Wade. He cums inside Peter, his eyes shutting tightly as he hammers up into him. Peter’s ass is unrelenting , tight around him, milking him of every last drop of cum before suddenly, Peter finally relaxes.

His whole body slumps against Wade, and Wade’s arms wrap around Peter. He sighs, feeling the endorphins wash over him. Exhaustion makes his muscles ache in the best way possible, and he feels his love and trust for Peter grow. Damn, this was good .

“I don’t think we did too bad for a first time.” Wade says, gently. Peter smiles at him, clearly now groggy. Wade can’t help but feel the same. A nap would be absolutely wonderful right now.

“Wanna go to the bed?” Peter offers, giving a yawn. Wade nods. Peter unseats himself from Wade’s dick, and Wade tries to ignore the feeling of his own cum dripping out of Peter’s ass and down his cock. Technically, they could go again as soon as they wanted to. As sins and virtues, they have unlimited stamina. Wade could be hard again in seconds.

But the bed does sound pretty appealing right now.

“Let’s get you cleaned up first.” Wade suggests. Peter nods, offering Wade his hand. Wade takes it, and he’s pulled up off of the couch.

“No funny business, though.” Peter warns, grinning. “I want to spoon now. Not fuck again, immediately, in the shower.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Wade agrees.

Later that night, Peter’s laying with his head on Wade’s chest. Wade’s arms are wrapped around him, warm and secure. Wade doesn’t think he’s ever felt more at peace.  

Chapter Text

Wade buttons up the top button of his dressiest shirt. They’re still living in those shitty apartments (and would be for another six freaking months) but he wants to put out an air of success. Because, after all, their mission has been successful.

Peter and Wade love it on earth. Wade knows that. They have both done great things in their short time down there, both helped people that really needed it. And nobody got too suspicious of them (beyond the occasional sideways glance. And Wade was pretty sure that that had more to do with his scars than the knowledge that they were age-old entities that literally motivated people to do everything they’d ever done).

“So…” Peter says, walking up towards the massive castle. The Librarians float on clouds around them, carrying new records. Wade wonders what the faded scrolls say. He wonders just how many new records today will inspire. “Back to the beginning, huh?”

“I suppose so.” Wade responds, stepping onto the stairs. He reaches out with his hand, finds Peter’s there for him. He squeezes it and they keep their fingers interwoven as they make their way to the elevator. The ride up fills him with nostalgia, even though it had only been a month.

Fucking Peter these last few weeks had made his days (and his ass) full , pardon the play on words.

You know what? Actually, don’t pardon that. It’s funny as shit. Appreciate it.

The elevator doors ding and they pop open, revealing themselves to the rest of the sins and virtues. Wade watches as Gamora and Kamalla look between the two of them, and their interlinked hands, with mild confusion. Wade feels pride.

It’s always a good sign when your partner is so damn hot it confuses people that you would ever get together.

Or at least, it is for him.

“You owe me ten dollars.” Tony whispers to Pride (human name Natasha).

“You don’t need it.” She counters. She was likely never intending to pay him back for it in the first place. Wade grins.

“So,” Kamalla says, slowly. “I take it that the trial went well?”

“I… heavily suggest that we move back to earth.” Peter says. He glances at Wade across the table, and Wade grins at him back. He turns to Kamalla and she raises her brow.

“I agree with Prudence. Well, on most things. On this definitely, but he also thinks American cheddar cheese is better than queso and I can’t really get behind that kind of flagrant disrespect for-”

“Wade.” She chastised him, flatly. He cut off, but he could tell that she was still a little amused. Just a little. She turned to Peter. “Can you give us a more detailed recount of your time on earth? Just so we can all know what we’re getting into if we vote yes.”

Wade felt nerves churn in his stomach.

This was it. The pressure was on. If enough of the sins and virtues voted yes, then they got to go back to earth and him and Peter got to live in New York in cheesy-ass domestic bliss. And this domestic bliss? Queso flavored cheesy. Not American cheddar. God, the nerve of some people.

Specifically, the nerve of his very sexy boyfriend.

Wade looked at Peter, and his heart melted a little bit. (Very much like-- yup, you guessed it-- chocolate). And he knew that whatever they were going to choose, it would end up fine. Because he could be happier here on this other plane, now that he had Peter.

After all, there was no rule that said a sin and virtue couldn’t decide to live together. Maybe they’d build themselves a nice house out of antimatter and the very concept of wood (this was a weird place, and Wade still didn’t understand it).

What mattered, though, was that they would be together.

And as long as they were together, they could make any place their paradise.


Chapter Text


Written by…. MysticMoonhigh and Bitter_Baristas

Read by…. Obama himself, probably.

Supporter … Cinco

Soundtrack by… Nobody. Who told you there was gonna be a soundtrack?

Inspired by… the wonderful bloggers who orchestrated the prompt bang and whatever hilarious and inspired individuals came up with our prompts

Read by… We already went over this. Obama.

On a serious note, a very big thank you to the people who both put together and participated in the prompt bang! You all rock!

Kamalla picks up her gavel, standing in front of the lot of them. “All in favor of returning to earth, please raise yo-”

“WAIT!” Wade cries, throwing out his hand. She turns, blinking at him like she just knows that this will be unnecessary.

“Yes, Wade?”

“We should totally leave the readers dangling here.” He gushes. “Imagine how fucking pissed they’ll be.”

Everyone around the table turns to look at him, pissed, confused, or (in Peter’s case) endeared. He grins.

“Seriously,” Tony says, exasperated. “Do you ever make sense?”

“Depends on which side of the fourth wall you’re on, I suppose.”

“Right.” Kamalla answers, flatly. She gives it a moment to ensure that Wade is finished before she continues. “So, as I was saying, who’s for returning to earth.

A number of hands are raised, and a number of hands are not.

“Alright then.” She announces, with a sense of finality. “It looks like we’re-”