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A Thousand Apologies

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Spider-Man ducked the blow from the closest ninja.
Seriously. Ninjas. In New York. And not just any ninjas. Robot ninjas.
Robot. Ninjas.
Peter wasn’t quite sure if he was surprised or not. He’d fought much more surprising things. Dinosaurs, the Hulk. So he guessed he wasn’t too surprised.
“Hey, so as robots, do you guys have like… a logical argument as to why ninjas are better than pirates? Cos I’ve been trying to win this fight with a friend and somehow ‘because they’re ninjas’ just doesn’t cut it.”
He was geeking out, just slightly. Probably.
When a sword nearly chopped off his ear, he decided he’d figure out his feelings later.
He kicked one of them and ducked another.
Before he could counter-attack, a screeching whistle pierced the fight. Peter covered his ears and crouched, the noise wreaking havoc with his senses.
When he finally pulled himself together again, he was alone.
“Ninjas,” he muttered angrily, looking around.
Nothing except…
He ducked down to examine a sash on the ground, and as he did so, his spidey-sense went off.
In a panic his legs kicked out from underneath him, hitting the assailant square in the chest.
Instead of stopping and doing that cool skidding thing that ninjas do, the attacker hit the far wall with a loud crack.
A distinctive not-ninja-robot crack.
And he recognised that red figure.
“Wade!”
He hadn’t…he didn’t mean… Robot ninjas.
“Wade,” he said again as he reached the other man. He cradled the man’s head.
Damn, damn, damn.
Was that blood?
He pulled off Wade’s mask and examined the wound.
He closed his eyes as he checked Wade’s pulse.
He was dead.
Peter took a few ragged breaths. He had killed his boyfriend. That was definitely way up on the ‘Bad Things for Boyfriends to Do’ list.
He pressed his forehead against Wade’s as the full reality sunk in.
He had killed someone.
Someone he cared about.
His fists clutched at Wade’s outfit.
There was a groan. “Hey baby boy, did I miss something?”
Peter gave a shaky laugh and held him tighter. “Ninja robots. Wade, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Wade sat up and scratched the back of his head. “It’s fine. I think you actually cracked my back for me. Feels good.” He paused. “Peter? You can let go of my clothes now.”
“Wade I killed you.”
Deadpool tried to pry Peter off him, to no avail. “Lots of people have killed me. Logan does it all the time. It how he shows love.”
“I’ve never….I mean…”
Wade pulled Spidey on his lap. “There, there, Petey.” He slipped his hand up the back of Peter’s mask and petted his hair. “It’s okay.”
Peter shook his head. “Wade, I…”
Wade pulled up Peter’s mask to expose his mouth and kissed him. “Poor Spidey. If it’d make you feel better, you can be my personal nurse.” He indicated Peter’s spandex. “Get you a nice nursing outfit. You can handfeed me and give me massages and therapeutic sex.” He gave a lustful moan. “Nursemaid Peter with backrubs and sex. Ooh,” he added. “We can do that Sex and the City scene with the Candy Stripper. Ooh dominoes.” He kissed Peter’s neck. “Can’t wait.”
Peter bit his lip. “Okay.”
Wade blinked. “What?” Peter wasn’t supposed to agree. Peter was supposed to call him an idiot and push him away.
“Okay.” Peter repeated forcefully. “Wade, I killed you.”
[So he keeps saying.]
Wade sighed and jumped up, fluidly switching Peter to bridal style and picking up his mask. “Home,” he declared.

~

Peter sat on the edge of their bed with red rimmed eyes, as Wade ran a bath.
He still wasn’t sure why Peter was having such a strong reaction.
Wade had killed and been killed for as long as he could remember. Though his memory had always been sketchy and he had probably made up half of his life story.
He lit a few candles. They’d help Peter relax. Along with the bath oils and the incense. And the massage oil, and the pizza with Peter’s favourite toppings. If that didn’t make Peter feel better, he didn’t know what would.
He went back to Peter. “Strip,” he commanded.
Peter gave him a weak smile. “I thought I was supposed to be the nurse.”
Wade shook his head. “Emotional trauma first.”
Peter undressed quickly and Wade picked him up and carried him into the bath. After Peter was comfortable, Wade stripped as well and joined him.
“Mmm,” Peter said as Wade wrapped his arm around him. He rested his head against Wade’s scarred chest. “This is nice.”
“Yeah, and all it took was me dying.” Wade quipped.
Peter tensed. “Wade….”
[Smooth move, idiot.]
Deadpool ran a wet hand through Peter’s hair. “Want a massage?”
“I’m fine.”
“Pizza? It’s your favourite.”
Peter shook his head.
Wade made a sad noise. “Spidey.”
Peter blinked at him. “Sorry.”
Wade glared back. “Stop saying that.”
“Sor-” he stopped himself and buried his face back in his chest.
Wade kissed his head. “I’m fine baby boy.”
[Except the, you know, cancerous cells eating at our body. And the insanity.]
Peter looked up at him and kissed him, sliding onto Wade’s lap. “Perhaps I should give you a massage.”
Wade grinned and there was a splashing as Wade repositioned the two of them so that Peter was behind him.
Peter laughed and grabbed the oil, pouring it over Wade’s back.
Wade moaned as Peter began working out the kinks, tracing Wade’s scars lightly.
In return Wade ran his fingers across Peter’s leg and tilted his head for a kiss.
Peter gave him a small smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Better?”
“I was going to ask you that.”
Peter hugged him. “Yeah, I just…”
“If you apologise again, I’m leaving you,” Wade threatened.
Peter gave him a sardonic smile. “I’ll get through it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Wade grinned and turned to face him. “Good, because I do remember you promising me sex.”
Peter pulled him close. “I did, didn’t I?”

Chapter Text

Deadpool squirmed. Sunlight was filtering in from the curtains, gently caressing Wade’s face.
It was disgusting.
He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. Wait, spare pillow. That meant no Peter.
Of course. He sat up and pulled himself out of bed. He moaned and scratched at his scars. His memory was a bit foggy after the bath sex. And the floor sex. Then kitchen sex. Bed sex. There had been a lot of sex.
It had been therapeutic, really. He’d come to a lot of personal realisations. Like, the wallpaper really matched the ceiling. Peter was a great interior designer. His talents were wasted as a superhero. But the flexibility. Yeah, his talents were wasted. He should be a full-on prostitute. An escort. Catering exclusively to him. Wilson Industries. One employee- the lovely Peter, one goal – lots and lots of sex.
As he left the bedroom, he wondered if he found a trump card. Dying equalling sex. Seemed good to him.
He hummed to himself. For the first time in a long time, perhaps forever, he was feeling sexed out.
Until he reached the kitchen, and found Peter there, cooking pancakes, clad in the sexiest nurse outfit he had ever seen. The sort of sexy nurse outfit no self-respecting person would wear outside of the bedroom. The sort of white and short, incredibly short, dress that screamed kinky and any suggestion of real medical practices was really, really beside the point. This sort of something was out of Wade’s deepest fantasies.
[Did we say sexed out? We meant sexed up.]
<Whatever means we need sex right now.>
Sooo sexed up.
“Uh, Peter?” Wade said in a voice far too high pitched to be his own. “What’cha wearing there?”
Peter turned to look at him, his face flushed. He looked down at the outfit, with a flight-or-fight look on his face. “Nurse outfit…” he muttered.
Wade blinked twice. Then crossed the room and pushed him against the bench, nibbling at Peter’s neck. Peter moaned in response, but kept his hands on Wade’s chest.
“I got dominoes.”
“Dominoes?” Wade asked, more focussed on getting closer and getting Peter out of that incredibly sexy outfit, trying to get back to kissing.
“Sex and the City right?”
Wade stepped back and gave him a shocked look. “You serious?”
Peter shrugged sheepishly.
“Because I’m totally up for that.” Wade continued. “You on the floor… in that… perfect…”
“I got dominoes.” Peter whispered again.
“I love a good Candy Stripper.”
“This isn’t about stripping, it’s about striping,” Peter dutifully quoted back.
Wade’s eyes lit up and he moved closer for some more kisses. “You’re perfect,” he whispered in his ear.
Peter chuckled lightly. “We going to do dominoes then?”
Wade nodded and gestured to their living room. “Lead the way!”
Peter gestured to the pancakes. “Food first.”

~

Wade sighed happily as he curled up on the couch with a plate of pancakes. “You’ve got too many on that end and they’re crooked. Specially those last four.”
Peter looked up from where he was setting up dominoes on the floor. “Wade, I’ve only set up four.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
Peter frowned. “Wait, are you Big or Carrie?”
“Peter you’re asking all the wrong questions!”
Peter sighed and sat back on his hands. “What’re the right questions?”
Wade put on a falsetto voice. “Are you comfortable there baby? Are you warm enough? Shall I sit on you?”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “I don’t talk like that.”
“You do, Spidey.”
<He totally does>
“Two to one, I win.”
Peter didn’t respond.
“So…?” Wade asked finally.
“Are you comfortable there?” Peter parroted. “Are you warm enough? Shall I sit on you?”
Wade pouted. “Petey, you’re not being nice.”
Peter sighed and stood up, brushing off his dress. “Are you okay Wade?”
Wade frowned. “I’m fine baby.” He tried incredibly hard to keep his eyes on Peter’s face.
<That skirt is way too short>
Peter leant in and sat himself on Wade’s lap.
<Foreplay?>
[He has that look on his face]
‘What look?’
[The ‘this is serious’ look.]
<Don’t look down, don’t look down.>
Wade struggled valiantly not to admire the dress now that it was back in his hands.
Peter searched his eyes. “Wade, I don’t think you understand what happened yesterday.”
“No, but I do understand that you’ve been wearing that nurse outfit for me for a full hour now and we haven’t had sex and it’s very distracting.”
Peter made an annoyed noise. “Wade, I killed you. I snapped your neck. That’s not what normal boyfriends do to each other.”
Wade laughed, his hands slipping under the dress to caress Peter’s thighs. “Normal boyfriends aren’t radioactive. Normal boyfriends haven’t literally met Death. Normal couples don’t consider fighting D-Lister superheroes as a date night.” He kissed Peter’s cheek. “We’re not exactly normal, baby boy.”
Peter groaned. “But there should be some rules, right? We should have some normalcy?”
“We share an apartment, gossip about co-workers and have a take-away night. That’s more normal than I’ve ever had.”
Peter pressed his forehead against Wade’s and sighed.
<D-does this mean we’re going to have sex now?>
Wade squirmed slightly.
Peter glared at him. “Do you mind?”
“I get you’re trying to have a moment, Petey, but you’re sitting on my lap, and wearing an outfit that, really, really, truly, should be illegal and I think maybe my lap isn’t the best place to wear a sexy outfit and try and have a serious discussion cos I’m just not good at multitasking and you look incredibly sexy, like just like fucking sexy baby boy, and I can’t keep my attention on what you’re saying when your body is screaming to fuck me.”
Peter pulled away from him, looking down at his outfit, and sighed again. “Wade, have I mentioned how annoying you can be?”
“Every day, baby,” Wade pushed Peter onto his back on the couch and began to kiss Peter’s neck. Peter made a strangled noise in response.
It wasn’t till Wade grazed his teeth against the dress’ fabric that Peter kicked into gear, pulling Wade closer for a kiss, biting at his lip, before pushing him back and sliding to the ground.
Wade gave him a hopeful look. “Is this the ‘blowjob’ part of the fantasy?”
Peter blew out some air. “Yeah, yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re really frustrating sometimes, Wade.”
Wade rolled his hips back into the couch. “But you love me anyway, right sweetie?”
Peter gave him a smile. “I do.”
Wade returned his smile just as earnestly, then sprawled on the couch. “Ooh, nurse, I’m not feeling well.”
“What appears to be your symptoms?” Peter replied, a flush covering his face as he tried to act serious.
Wade leant over. “It’s a bit embarrassing,” he confided.
Peter cleared his throat. “Well, I’m a trained professional. Feel free to share anything. Anything,” he added in a seductive tone.
<Shit, we’re screwed.>
[Not yet, but we’re going to be.]
Wade rolled his hips again and pretended to be flustered. “It’s.. a sort of pain…”
Peter looked up at him in mock concern. “Shall I get you an Advil?”
Wade ducked his head down. “It’s not that kind of pain, nurse.”
“Well, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” Peter replied sweetly.
Wade squeezed his knees together and adjusted himself. Peter waited with faux concern.
“Fuck you’re sexy,” Wade whispered. Peter’s eyes glimmered.
Wade separated his legs in mock anxiousness, directing Peter’s attention to his cock.
“Oh.” Peter said and licked his lips. “Shall I help you with that sir?”
“If you don’t mind.”
Peter gave him a cheeky look. “It’d be my pleasure sir.” With that, he leant forward and, with practised ease, captured Wade’s zipper between his teeth and slowly dragged it down. Wade shivered.
“Why thank you nurse,” he murmured.
Peter shifted and reached over to free Wade’s cock from his pants. “Just doing my job sir.”
Peter nuzzled his head against Wade’s thigh before setting his sights on Wade’s cock. With the same skill he had undone Wade’s zipper, he caught Wade’s cock in his lips, giving Wade a pointedly lustful look.
Wade moaned, one hand instinctively knotting in Peter’s hand, the other grasping the back of the couch as Peter swallowed him slowly, bit by bit. Wade’s thigh bounced desperately.
“This seems highly unethical doctor,” he joked, trying to distract himself.
Peter pulled off him, spit trailing down his chin. “I’m a nurse.”
Wade whimpered. “Whateveryousaybabypleasekeepsuckingme.”
Peter moved closer, pointedly sticking out his tongue and licking at the tip of Wade’s cock. Wade groaned as Peter’s mouth embraced his dick again.
Peter started working at him, falling into the rhythm they’d perfected from hundreds of sessions – Wade digging into Peter’s hair and babbling nonsensically while Peter blew him, tongue tracing the underside of the cock, moaning every so often to cause Wade to lose track of what he was saying; Wade not caring, because it felt so good to be touched, to be loved; Wade picking up on whatever train of thought passed his mind, as Peter brought him closer and closer to climax.
“I’mseriousPeterwhydidtheysexuliseabloodym&mandwhyisitagirllikem&madsshouldbeforkidsfuckthatfeelsgoodsowouldn’titmakemoresenseforthemtohavelikerocketsorfightaliensratherthanhavem&msinsexyposeslikewhatisthatohmygodpeteryou’resogoodatthisI’msocloseandwhyonlythegirllikethereareabunchofguysandthey’realllikecomicrelief-” He choked off with a shout as he came.
Peter rocked back on his haunches, making sure Wade’s eyes were on him as he swallowed, then wiped away the spit from his chin.
Wade watched him bonelessly, eyes soaking up the scene before resting on Peter’s own arousal.
“Oh, nurse,” he purred when he’d got his voice back. “It seems my disease was contagious.”
Peter stood up, the dress pulling in all the right places.
“That’s the risk us nurses take,” Peter replied, his voice obscenely hoarse.
Wade shifted forwards to pull Peter onto the couch and kissed him. “Suppose I should cure you, nurse?”
“That would be appreciated,” Peter murmured back.
Wade kissed him properly. “Have I mentioned recently that I love you?”
Peter ran his fingers over Wade’s scarred face. “Could stand to hear it more.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.” He squirmed uncomfortably. “I think you mentioned some payback?”
Wade laughed. “Of course, Petey baby. What are boyfriends for?”