Chapter Text
I hate the world today
Things have always been this way, as far as Deadpool can remember, which doesn't count for much. Wake up healing, laid out on some bloody rotten furniture, did I do this to myself or did someone else do it? Doesn't matter, it never does and never will. Can't change, this is who I am. Who I always will be.
Go to the bar, bicker with Weasel, get a job, kill and kill and kill, go home, regret and regret and regret, wake up covered in blood. Everyone needs a routine right? The bloody broken cogs of a machine that is him, turning no matter how many times the universe tries to destroy the disaster of a machine that is Wade Wilson. Each time the world fades to black it always cuts back, pans right back in, and there he is again. But the routine that's framed his existence for who knows how long has shifted. Routine broken and stomped on with feather light feet.
"Wade?" It's small, a little voice somewhere deep inside his head yet so far away, "you back?" His eyes open slowly, taking in the blasting headache behind them, glancing up to the figure of a man who shouldn't bother looking at him let alone speaking.
"Spidey," his voice is dry, rough and painful as it claws its way through his throat, "what are?"
"Just lay down," strong yet gentle hands keep Wade down, capturing him against his mattress. Spider-Man smiles, his mask is on but Wade knows it, "I'll get you some water, okay?" He turns, steps so light Wade can't hear him making his exit from the bedroom.
The routine was beaten down by Spider-Man like any other criminal he came across. The moment Wade opened his mouth and told Peter how he deals with injuries his world was shaken. Maybe it was shaken before that. Maybe the first time he laid eyes on the red and blue hero his life had been changed, just that one small wave directed at a broken man who didn't deserve it.
Wade sits up slowly, taking in his injuries, he'd been more than reckless once again. Missing some fingers, broken arm still in the process of healing, killer headache no doubt from some fatal wound to his brain, but the worst ache of all was in his chest. The idiots in that warehouse weren't the cause of that injury though, no gun or criminal could ever inflict that kind of damage on Wade.
"Here," Spider-Man is already back, his silent feet sneaking right back up on the injured man. Once again, Spidey has cleaned wounds that don't need it, his suit is hanging up drying because the little hero sewed it up and cleaned it again, "you okay?" He asks, still holding the glass out for Wade who just sits and stares off into the distance.
"Never better, love waking up to you in my bedroom," he smiles wide and stupid, snatching the glass and chugging the water. Deflect, joke, repress.
"You shouldn't just jump into the middle like that," Spider-Man huffs, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking at something on his suit, "I don't care if you think you're the world's best distraction, I'd rather not have to drag your body away from every fight."
"So just leave me there," Wade shrugs, tossing the cup to the floor, Spider-Man catches it with a web before it hits the ground and shatters.
"We've already gone over this, I'm not abandoning you," that's not how this is supposed to work. Wade is supposed to get under everyone's skin, no one is supposed to care about him, no one is supposed to treat him like this, speak to him like this. Spider-Man is too much, too good, too caring, he thinks there's something worth saving in everyone he meets. Even Deadpool, a mercenary that kills because it feels good. He thinks he can change me, fix me, well ha! plenty have tried and not a single one could.
But he did fuck up the routine.
You're so good to me
I know but I can't change
"Yeah yeah, you're a stand up guy Spidey," Wade pats his mask covered head before sliding off the bed, "don't you have old ladies to help out?" He looks around the room, Spider-Man has tidied up again, the mold covered take out that used to be beside his bed on the floor is gone.
"Gotta finish helping out this old man first though," he chuckles, getting off the bed with a stretch before following Wade out of the room. Yep, he cleaned up the living room and kitchen as well. Down to scrubbing up the mess of blood and brain matter Wade left on the floor the last time he took himself out.
"I'm all good, crazy insane awesome healing factor, remember?" He yawns, dying and coming back to life can really tire a man out.
"Mhm," Spider-Man watches him pull out some deli meat from his fridge, opening the plastic baggies to snack on cold slices of turkey. They stay like that until the bag is empty, Spider-Man with his arms crossed and watching Wade like a hawk, while Wade tries to will the hero to just leave.
"Really Webs, I'm good," he says with a half smile, "unless you wanna take care of little Wade, coming back from the dead really gets a man raring to go," he laughs dryly, gesturing at his crotch as Spider-Man sighs.
"Okay Pool, I'll see you whenever you pop up again I guess," he makes a slow retreat to the window, turning to look at Wade a few times before leaping away. It's all wrong, not the way it's supposed to work. Spider-Man shouldn't like Deadpool, he should hate him. Just like Wade does.
The first time Deadpool met Spider-Man it was like a dream come true, finding the cute little hero in a fight with what should have been enough men to overpower him. Spidey is strong though, capable and fearless. Deadpool was only there to kill a man, hired to take out some gang leader, but Spider-Man was there to stop the gang from a planned attack on a woman's shelter they'd been hustling for money. Turns out a woman's shelter doesn't have a lot of money to dish out to gangs for protection.
Feeling like playing superhero with the adorable blur of red and blue, Deadpool jumped in with wit and puns that were only returned in full force from Spider-Man. He expected the man to hesitate, give him the cold shoulder and try to turn him in like the other heros he meets. Spider-Man just laughed at his jokes mid fight and told him his katanas looked cool. When the baddies were webbed up and the police called, Spider-Man swung away with a wave. It was a kindness Wade was positive he didn't deserve.
He killed his target once Spider-Man was gone, doing it while the hero was there didn't feel right. He already knew Spider-Man doesn't kill, has a huge no-no policy about killing. So Wade waited, because if he could capture a moment like this again he would. Joking, smiling, laughing, and all of it directed at him by what has to be the goodest man in New York. Wade can't change, but he sure as hell will pretend to for more of that kindness.
The more they bumped into each other, the more they patrolled together, worked together and even shared meals with one another, the more Wade knew how fucked he was. Spider-Man was kind, saw the best in everyone. He was even trying to see it in Wade. Deflect, joke, repress.
Tried to tell you
But you look at me like maybe
I'm an angel underneath
Spider-Man has been disrupting Wade's life for a few months now, like a puppy he looks at Deadpool like he's just some misunderstood man. He's not. Wade knows what he is, knows he's the monster and the killer the other heros see. Spider-Man refuses to believe it, even though Wade's only hanging around him for selfish gain. Spider-Man doesn't see that, he sees a broken man he can change. A project to work on, fix him up and spit out some good guy. A friendship forged on one trying to change the other. A friendship forged on lies, misunderstanding, and one pathetic broken man taking kindness like a drug.
"Can't go home alone like that," Spider-Man said after a fight with Rhino, Wade missing an arm and leg, ribs shattered and body covered in an abstract painting of bruises.
"I always do," he responded absentmindedly, apparently that was the worst thing to say or perhaps the best. Spider-Man was on him fast, helping him move, saying sweet things like "I've got you," and "let me help you," and even, "it's okay, I'm right here," none of it deserved. Brought back to his apartment, doted on by the spider with far too much kindness and way too many gentle touches. It became the new routine. Wake up, spend all day hating himself, search for Spidey when night comes, get himself beat half to death or killed, brought home to be given soft touches and sweet words.
Spider-Man is a good man, a good hero, he's also easily fooled and manipulated. Wade can take care of himself in a fight, Wade doesn't lose fights, he certainly doesn't need Spider-Man to defend him and protect him. But he plays pretend, gets himself hurt when he could have avoided it, lets Spider-Man feel like a big powerful guy who has to protect the unfortunate Deadpool. Then he gets to feed off that drug that he can only get from Spider-Man, kindness and friendship oozing out of him.
Innocent and sweet
Spider-Man is so much more than Wade could have ever imagined. He's dorky, awkward, and stubborn when he doesn't need to keep up the Spider-Man appearance. When it's just the two of them Wade sees a side of Spider-Man he likes to convince himself is only for him, the side of Spider-Man that steals food from Wade's plate when he thinks he's not paying attention. The side of him that unashamedly kicks ass at video games and never lets Wade win. The side of him that can go on hour long rants about science nonsense that Wade doesn't even bother to understand.
Spider-Man is touchy in ways Wade couldn't have expected either. After a month of the new routine Wade was used to careful hands on his injuries, he wasn't used to those hands patting his shoulder, grabbing his wrist to get his attention, tracing stitches he'd sewn on Deadpool's suit while they sat in rooftops with long fingers, poking his chest to make a point, playful shoves and swats. It felt like Spider-Man was taking any excuse to put those kind hands on Wade's body. He probably wasn't, probably just touched everyone that way. Even that was meaningful to Wade though, because no one ever wanted to touch him, even the most touchy of people knew to keep their hands to themselves when it came to him.
Yesterday I cried
You must have been relieved
To see the softer side
It didn't take long before Spider-Man was seeing through his bullshit, dancing around the walls he put up like they were nothing. One day Spider-Man displayed just how in tune with Wade's walls he really was when he noticed his body language being different. Wade was sure no one else but Spider-Man would notice it, the way his suit was so uncomfortable on his skin, but he was so used to days like this he was sure it didn't show.
"You okay?" Spidey asked, two of them sat on the ledge of a building keeping a watchful eye on the city. He placed a hand on Wade's knee, leaning forward to look into his face. Gentle and kind hand burning through Wade's leather suit, clawing at sensitive skin with no remorse. Just as fast as it had been placed it was removed, "are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine," Deadpool responded, "just trying to rip my suit off and ogle my body aren't ya," he teased but Spider-Man wasn't having it.
"You flinched when I touched you," he pointed at the knee he'd just graced with his heavenly hand. Wade studied the words in his head, he was positive he hadn't flinched or shown any signs of how painful the slight pressure had been. He knows how to deal with these things, knows how to pretend to be more than fine.
"You're seeing things baby boy," Wade waved him off, raising to his feet with a stretch. Every inch of his body felt like it was on fire, scars burning in agony under his suit.
"I'd be feeling things, not seeing things," Peter corrected, following him to his feet, "I felt you flinch."
Despite his best efforts the spider was not going to let go, hours into the night after fighting and walking and swinging and the thing at the front of Spider-Man's mind was Wade flinching. He kept asking, kept pestering and not letting up. Stubborn, so damn stubborn. Eventually Wade caved, up on a rooftop above the city he cried like an idiot. Tears that hadn't spilled from his eyes in years, mouth spewing on and on about the constant pain, the days like then where he just wanted to rip out of his skin and shove a gun down his throat to end the pain.
A soft hand on his back, gentle and feather light. Kind words in his ear, affirmations mixed with jokes that put a smile on Wade's lips despite breaking down. Spider-Man was there for him, even without putting his body in danger, without losing an arm or breaking a bone, Spider-Man would sit and take care of his inner wounds as well. Too kind, too stupid thinking it would change anything. Thinking understanding Wade Wilson came easy. He didn't even understand himself, how could anyone else?
I can understand how you'd be
So confused
I don't envy you
Months pattered on, gentle touches, inside jokes, moments shared together that Wade would never let go. Spider-Man was kind, funny, caring, things no one ever was to Wade. And it wasn't just when no one was looking, that's how he'd expected it to be. This gentle kindness would be a secret Spider-Man would have to keep, he'd have to drop the caring act for Deadpool when others were around.
"He's not, he's with me," Spider-Man was stern, standing his ground when the Avengers tried to shoo Deadpool away from the scene. A few bombs had gone off in a residential area, The Avengers helping citizens evacuate and trying to figure out who was behind the attack. Spider-Man and Deadpool had been nearby, heard the explosions and decided to check it out
"I wouldn't be surprised if he was behind this," Iron Man grumbled, looking at Deadpool accusingly. Before he could slip in a little jab at the man Spider-Man was speaking first, defending him.
"Get off your high horse Stark, Deadpool's been with me and I know he'd never attack civilians at random," he had taken a protective stance between the men, "and you know that too, Deadpool doesn't kill people unless he thinks they deserve it."
As Iron Man grumbled some more, Deadpool found his fingers laced with Spider-Man's, being dragged away from the event as Spidey groaned something about how the Avengers can handle it. He thinks I'm better, thinks I've changed because of him. I haven't, I'm still as shitty as Stark thinks I am. They got some food, ate together as Spider-Man didn't say a single thing about Wade's scars as always and Wade fantasized about pushing the burgers aside and pressing his lips to those sweet pink ones on Spider-Man's face. As always.
Has anyone ever stood up for me like that? Whatever Spider-Man was seeing in Wade was false, he knows that, knows that there is truly nothing redeeming about him. Sure he would have never randomly blown up buildings with innocent people in them, but that doesn't change the fact that he has killed innocent people who got in his way. Not everyone who died at Wade's hand was as deserving of it as Spider-Man seemed to think.
"Wade," Spider-Man put his food down, a serious note to his voice as he looked the man over.
"Yes honey bun?" Wade tried to calm the stirring in his stomach, scared of what would come out of the smaller man. Maybe Spider-Man finally realized he's scum.
"I've known your name for awhile," he says thoughtfully, though still rather serious.
"Mhm, I love hearing you say it baby. Maybe try moaning it for me?" Wade smiles around a fistfull of fries, flirting has always been easy, no one ever reciprocated it. Not even Spider-Man, usually the flirting shuts things down, makes Spidey take a step back to keep everything platonic. So when Wade starts to feel cornered he busts it out, throws himself full force at the man. Never physically though, Wade never initiates touch. Too scared it will change things, or worse make Spider-Man realize he doesn't want to be touched by or touching the monster dressed in red and black.
"You don't know my name though," Spider-Man says, eyes up on the sky, "it's Peter," his name comes out in a whisper, hushed like he knows he shouldn't be saying it. Wade can agree, he shouldn't know that.
"Peter," he tastes it, watching the way Spider-Man looks at him when the name leaves his lips, "Peter," he says again, he'll be sure to whisper it into his pillow tonight while he's fucking his hand.
"Yep, Peter Parker," the smile that gracefully dances along those beautiful lips turns Wade's stomach inside out. His throat closes up, hands go clammy, he's overdosing on his drug of choice right now but he can't stop chasing the high.
"Peter," he whispers, licking his lips and savoring the taste, "cute name for a cute little spider," Peter scoffs, returning to his burger. The smile doesn't fade, it stays on his lips for as long as Wade sees them.
I'm a little bit of everything
All rolled into one
It's been half a year with Spider-Man, Peter, and Wade is sure he's seen some of the worst sides of himself. Peter still smiles at him, jokes around, touches and touches with no remorse. Peter has watched Wade kill, seen him lose himself to violence and he just says sweet things. Tells him it's okay, he'll be okay, that he forgives him. He shouldn't, he should just give up on fixing Wade. There's nothing to fix, too much damage to repair.
I'm a bitch
Sometimes Wade lashes out, yelling and screaming at Peter. The two stubbornly get into arguments that can last hours or even days, but Peter always forgives. Always comes back with open arms and an apology he doesn't owe to Wade. Wade never apologizes, but he always takes Peter's forgiveness that he doesn't even have to try to beg for.
Wade figured they would argue more about the killing, it drives him up the wall when Peter just lets him do it without saying anything. At one point he decided to really get under the spider's skin, egg him on by being more and more violent. Waiting until Spider-Man would finally snap at him for taking lives when he's not supposed to. He starts by cutting a thief's hands off, "can't steal anymore," he says smugly to Spider-Man, waiting for his reprimanding.
"Guess not," Peter sighs, running a hand over the top of his head. That's not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to yell at me!
Next Wade shoots a purse napper in the back while they chase him down, the man drops to the crusty sidewalk howling in pain. Spider-Man fetches the purse and returns it to the person it was taken from while Deadpool toys with his gun in his hands, the purse napper screaming and crying on the sidewalk.
"That was unnecessary," Peter says calmly, placing a hand over top of Wade's holding the gun, "you okay today?" No, I'm not! You're supposed to be mad, not concerned!
Clearly just being violent won't get Peter mad, so onto unaliving people. First he kills a bank robber, slicing his throat open in the center of the bank in front of all the hostages. Peter focuses on getting the hostages out of bindings without speaking to Deadpool, waiting until they're alone in the bank to speak.
"Was he an ex lover of yours?" He asks, lightly kicking at the robbers limp body on the floor.
"What?" Wade's eye twitched, he still didn't sound mad. He should be pissed, I've cut a man's hands off, shot a random low level criminal, and now killed a man. All things Spider-Man should be mad about.
"You ran in here and killed him like he broke your heart," a soft chuckle, it had no mirth in it, "you're acting kind of off today, you sure everything is alright?" No! No! No!
After the bank robbery they stumble upon a drug deal, a simple one just a guy with a bag of coke and some woman with bags of groceries searching through her wallet for the right amount of cash. A shot to the man's head first, the woman second. Finally, Peter is mad. Wade is shoved down onto the rooftop they're perched on, Peter is shaking with rage. Finally.
"What the fuck was that?" He hissed low in Wade's face.
"Hmm? What was what?" He plays dumb, self satisfied smile on his lips displaying through his mask.
"Why did you kill them?" Peter grumbles, he's holding Wade down with all his spider strength. He can feel his collarbones beginning to snap under the pressure.
"Criminals Spidey, I kill them. Remember?" It's smug, everything about him is in the moment. He finally got Peter to treat him the way he's supposed to, like the monster with no morals that he is.
"Wade," Peter breathes his name out, calming down and loosening his grip. He's sat on Wade's middle, leaning his head down into the crook of his neck as his arms scoop Wade tight against himself, "why won't you just tell me what's wrong? You're lashing out, so please just tell me. I'm not mad at you, okay? So please, what has you so upset you're taking it all out on these people?" It's all wrong, it's not supposed to work this way.
All Wade accomplished was killing three people who didn't deserve to die and making Peter so worried he actually cried keeping him pinned down on the rooftop. So Wade just lied, told him he was upset about a dead girlfriend because it was a hell of a lot easier to do that than to tell Peter he did all of this just to piss him off. So Peter laid on the roof with him, holding him and letting Wade talk about Vanessa. He hadn't meant to open up about that, he didn't want to. So why did he? Why did he tell him every last detail? And why did it make him feel good by the end of it all?
I'm a lover
Those gentle fingers often linger, tracing muscle on Wade's body. It sends electricity through his whole being and soul, they'll wander over scarred skin aimlessly as they sit and chat. Wade lies on his back in bed, healing some wounds while Peter sits beside him softly exploring his chest and stomach. He says it's to find any other injuries, but here he is tracing each ab individually with featherlight fingers that would raise goosebumps if Wade's skin wasn't so messed up.
"Always touching, never being touched," Wade whispers, hands twitching at his sides wanting to grab Peter and pull him on top of his hips.
"Hmm?" Peter does that sometimes, pretends to not hear something Wade said and give him an out if he wants to take it back. Usually Wade takes his out, makes some joke and they move on as if he hadn't said something that alludes to the very real feelings bubbling beneath his scarred surface.
"Shouldn't I check you for injuries?" Wade says softly, Peter has never removed the suit any further than his mask over his nose, yet he's seen all of Wade. Maybe he's jealous, feeling exposed against someone who always has the upper hand. Or maybe, for once, it's not about anything like that. Maybe he just wants to return the favor of soft gentle hands, at least as best as his destroyed fingers can.
Maybe it's just the selfish want to see more than he should be allowed, to touch something so pure and beautiful. His fingers flex by his hips, waiting as Peter thinks and ghosts his hand up Wade's stomach. He's shivering under the touch, under those perfect hands he's never felt the skin on. Wade wishes the suit was off like his own is, wishes those featherlight touches felt like warm skin instead of spandex.
"I didn't get hit a single time," Peter softly laughs, hand pausing between Wade's pecs, "so what injuries are you looking for?" There's a sly smile on his lips, spandex around his mouth stretching around it. He's calling Wade out, he knows Wade isn't worried about or asking about injuries. Peter has known for a while now about these feelings Wade shouldn't be letting himself feel. Peter, to be fair, shouldn't be letting me indulge in them either.
"Wouldn't hurt to check baby boy," Wade purrs, hand finally winning him over and gently grazing Peter's wrist. A giggle softly roars from the man, his hand on Wade's chest letting up to tug his mask off. Beautiful hazel eyes smiling down at Wade, freckles on his cheekbones and bridge of his nose, fluffy brown hair poofing up with static, and Wade knows he's even more fucked than he ever was before. His chest hurts so goddamn much.
"I'm fine," Peter smiles, it kills Wade at least ten times over from how it reaches those beautiful doe eyes, "what are you really asking for?" The smile goes smug, that reaches his eyes as well. Expressive and beautiful.
"Skin," it's all he manages, trying desperately to remember he's a monster not worthy of love. Especially not from Peter. Deflect, joke, repress.
"Mhm?" Peter knows what he wants, they both know he does. He's a sly little shit, and Wade wouldn't want him any other way. Peter tugs his gloves off, they join his mask in a heap on the bed, "like this?" He asks lowly, both sets of fingers gently raking over Wade's chest. He wonders if Peter can feel the damage he's doing beneath the skin, if he knows how much destruction he's doing to Wade's heart as those pretty porcelain fingers sear his flesh with each gentle graze.
"Like that," he breathes out, eyes fluttering closed. Several beautiful minutes pass as Peter continues his exploration of skin he's touched all over already, now with his soft but calloused bare fingers. When Wade starts to think nothing could make this moment better, as he forces himself to never forget this moment, soft lips press to his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.
"Can I?" He asks in such a hush Wade's sure the pounding of his heart is louder than Peter's words.
"Please," it's a pathetic whimper, then come those soft lips against his unworthy scared mouth. Soft and gentle, pressing far too lovingly against chapped lips known for never shutting up. It lasts a few moments, and then Peter's pulling his gloves and mask on, standing stiffly a foot or two away from the bed. Now this is normal, this is what's supposed to happen. Regret.
"I've gotta go, see you whenever," Peter turns and leaves, and for the first time he doesn't check over his shoulder at Wade before leaping out the window. The drug has been depleted and all Wade's left with is a heavy stabbing feeling in his chest. Love for a friend who will never love him. A friend who only stuck around to try and fix him. Hardly a friend, certainly not a lover.
I'm a child
After the kiss they don't see each other for weeks, mostly because Wade is avoiding Spider-Man. He expected the avoiding to go both ways, but instead Peter actively starts seeking Wade out when he doesn't bump into him on patrol for a whole week. Wade knows what's going to happen when they see each other again, rejection.
Peter kissed him and now he regrets everything that led up to that. Because Peter is pure, innocent and sweet. He let himself get wrapped up in trying to fix Wade, trying to change him into a better man. It didn't work though, he's still the monster he was before he fell in love with Spider-Man. If anything he's even more of a mess, emotions and feelings making him even more disturbed.
Now Peter remembers that Wade isn't worth his time, felt his nasty lips against those perfect beautiful plump ones. He touched scarred skin with his bare hands for the first time. Peter was reminded of the monstrosity that Wade is, the disgusting brute, just crass and unlovable. Nothing redeeming and nothing worth someone like Peter's time. All those moments that Wade cherishes are time spent where Spider-Man could have been doing some good for the world. Instead he was consoling a disaster, softly caring for a demon, whispering affirmations to a savage.
"Deadpool!" Peter's voice calls out, he lands into a magnificent pose right in front of him, "where have you been?" It's been a month since the kiss, Wade doing everything in his power to avoid rejection. Now it's here and he decides he's not dealing with it. He'll win, cut this whole thing down before Peter can get his pretty hands in Wade's chest cavity to rip out the heart infected with love for him.
"I'm avoiding you," Wade says plain and simple, "so I'm gonna get back to that," he turns on his heel and starts walking, only to have Spider-Man flip over him and land in his path.
"Why are you avoiding me?" He has his hands on his hips, standing on his toes to earn an extra inch to look up at Deadpool disapprovingly.
"It's weird now," Deadpool shrugs, "you kissed me and now everything is all messed up," he knows Peter must be thinking the same thing, as usual Peter is just playing with him. Toying with his heart like a cat with a crinkly ball of paper.
"But," Peter deflates, arms falling limp to his sides, "you said it was okay," his gaze falls to the ground and Wade stiffens, Peter never behaves the way he's supposed to and it always throws him off, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"What?" Wade barks, taking a defensive step back and away from Peter.
"I'm sorry, I thought… it doesn't matter, I'm sorry," he scratches the back of his head and slowly looks up at Wade, "please don't avoid me forever, come back eventually okay? I miss you."
No matter what Peter always seems to be pulling at his heart, stomping on it, chewing it up before spitting it out into a cup of used dip. Even then, where he should have been glad to be rid of Wade Peter looked sad and heart broken. Wade was supposed to be the sad one, the one wounded by this one sided loss. Peter didn't even realize he was winning, getting away from the basket case that is Wade Wilson. Freedom from having to deal with the guy throwing himself into fire fights just to get his gentle hands on his body. Wade was using him, doesn't he realize it?
I'm a mother
Wade already knew he could never change when Spider-Man started spending time with him because he'd already been given the opportunity. Given the chance to fix himself for a prize fit for only a good man. He couldn't accomplish it though. When Wade found out he had a daughter he wanted to change, wanted to make a better man out of himself to earn the right to see her.
Ellie was such a bright and wonderful little girl, sassy and stubborn. Wade would do anything to protect her, which is why he won't go anywhere near her anymore. Because being around him is the opposite of being protected. Wade is who Ellie should be protected from, a monster who loses himself to violence shouldn't be allowed to have a daughter. Shouldn't have the right to see her. He knows that. It still hurts, maybe even more than never being loved does.
Sometimes Spider-Man makes Wade think of Ellie, sometimes he sits and pretends that they're all sitting together in a living room. Wade and Peter on the couch, Peter holding Wade tight against his side and reading some science junk on his phone while cartoons play on the TV. Ellie bouncing all around the room, quoting the characters' lines before they even say them. It's domestic and blissful, Wade isn't covered in scars, he's happy, there's no Deadpool and no Spider-Man. It's a fantasy he'll never get to fulfill, but he certainly spends plenty of time living in it in his head.
Wade will never get to be close with his daughter just like he'll never be loved by Peter Parker.
I'm a sinner
Wade hasn't seen Spider-Man in a year now, last time he saw him was when he was caught avoiding him. When Peter told him not to go away forever. Wade tried to, tried so hard to leave New York and never go back. He only lasted one year, each day worse than the last. No matter how many sick twisted assholes he killed he always felt like he was ten times worse than them.
Thinking of those soft gentle hands grazing his skin as he ripped his hits to piece's. Imagining Peter's whispered affirmations when he sliced heads off of bodies. Pictured those beautiful fingers wiping away his tears when he couldn't handle the guilt from the job any longer. Remembered the gentleness of that kiss when he was alone and drenched in other people's blood.
A year spent wallowing in self pity, taking his rage out on anything and anyone he could. Because Wade loves Peter Parker, and he can't think of anyone less deserving of a fate than him. Peter should be with someone as beautiful as he is, as kind and loving, someone who would always put him first since Peter's always putting himself last. Those pretty hands should be trailing delicate and soft skin, his fingers intertwined with a hand that is in no way hellish, and that fond delicate look in his gorgeous eyes should be directed at someone who hasn't sinned as easily as breathing.
Like the desperate addict he was, Wade was on his way to relapse. Standing in Queens and hoping to catch sight of the red and blue spandex. He felt arms loop around his middle before he could hear the feet running toward him, before he could even see who it was hugging him. But he knew immediately, even when he looked down and the arms were bare, porcelain skin dotted in freckles and wisps of brown hair.
"You're such a jerk," Peter whined into his back, face buried between katanas, "I told you not to avoid me forever."
"It hasn't been forever," Wade chuckled, even though it certainly felt like an eternity.
"Might as well have been," when Peter let him go Wade turned to face him, the brunette was wearing a pout and some deep dark eye bags. No Spider-Man suit, just Peter, standing there looking all kinds of annoyed yet happy. Wade was hooked all over again, this time he's not sure he'll be able to quit for even a second. Especially not when the pout turns to a smile, eyes crinkles with pure joy, "you owe me like a thousand dinners by the way." Forgiven without an apology, nothing changed. Nothing ever does.
I'm a saint
Fighting alongside Spider-Man after a year is like riding a bike after a year, easy and simple. Everything clicks right into place in moments, witty banter, puns back and forth, endless meaningless flirting, and rooftop dinners. It's all the same, no that's a lie. Things are very different. Nights spent at Wade's place aren't the same at all. No, Wade ruined those. No more lingering touches. No more touching outside of cleaning wounds and the occasional tap on Wade's shoulder.
He told Peter that he made it weird when he kissed him. He rejected Peter.
Wade would give anything to get those soft touches back again, absolutely anything. So when Spider-Man does manage to get hit by a bullet Wade swoops in, taking down the man with the gun by knocking him out. He grabs Peter with utmost care, gingerly cradling him in his arms. To his surprise Peter lets him.
"I'm gonna take care of you," Wade murmurs as he carries Spider-Man through the streets. He laughs in Wade's arms, telling him it would be faster if he let Peter swing them there. Those long delicate fingers toying with the front of his leather suit as he tells Wade it's not a big deal. It is a big deal though, Peter almost never gets hit by anything. His Spidey sense always tells him ahead of time, he never gets hurt.
"Haven't been here in awhile," Peter huffs as Wade sets him down on the bed, nervously looking over the torn spandex and bullet wound in Peter's arm. The shot had gone straight through his bicep narrowly missing bone, even though Peter has a healing factor it's basically nothing compared to Wade's. Using the medical kits Peter had gotten over a year ago to tend to Wade, he starts cleaning the wound while Peter plays with a flappy piece of leather on one of Wade's pouches.
"Does it hurt?" He asks, fumbling for the medical grade thread to stitch Peter's wound shut.
"Does the gunshot wound in my arm hurt?" Peter laughs a little, pulling his mask off to itch his forehead, "yeah, duh."
"Want some painkillers?" Wade looks up panicked, he doesn't know what to do. He's never done this before.
"Calm down," Peter tugs Wade's mask off as well, running his gloved fingers over his scarred head, "I'm literally fine, just breathe," again it's not going right, Wade should be calm, taking care of this perfect human in front of him. Peter shouldn't be the one trying to take care of Wade when he's the one oozing blood right now.
"I want to do this for you," Wade groans, throwing the needle down in frustration when his hands are too shaky to thread it, "I'm useless, I'm sorry!" It's the first time those words have ever slipped through his lips in who knows how long. But he's frustrated and scared, Spider-Man doesn't get hurt. He's never seen it happen when they fought together, was he getting hurt while Wade was gone? How many times was Peter shot when he wasn't there to do something about it?
"Wade, hey," those pretty fingers softly trace down his cheek before tilting his head up by his chin to meet Peter's gaze, "you've always been good to me, don't worry about it," his smile is so soft, so perfect and beautiful. He must be losing a lot of blood if he's that delusional.
"Baby boy," Wade swallows back the urge to cry, "let me stitch you up, okay?" Peter nods an affirmative and threads the needle for Wade, giving it to him with nothing but trust in those expressive hazel eyes. Wade's never stitched up a wound before, but he's watched Peter do it a million times. He'll just imagine Peter doing it, do as he has.
He finishes and covers everything up in bandaging, fingers still trembling as he looks Peter over, "you did a good job," Peter beams, "go to medical school while you were away?" He giggles the most beautiful noise Wade's ever heard before tugging him down into the bed with him, "we need to get you a little nurse costume."
"Like the sexy dress kind that's super inappropriate for actual nurse work, or scrubs?" Wade asks, sinking into the arms that wrap around him.
"Take an educated guess," Peter snorts, fingers running up and down Wade's back as the larger man lays on top of him with his bald head snuggled against his chest.
"I already have a dress, but I can get scrubs if you want me to," he breathes the words out, everything feels so surreal. The overwhelming familiar smell of Peter, the delicate feeling of his fingers feathering over his body, the way his body shakes with laughter underneath Wade's weight.
"I missed you so much you big oaf," Peter squeezes him, lips gently pressing a kiss to the top of Wade's head before he loosens up and gently pushes him off of himself, "sorry, I'm so sorry," Peter looks panicked, terrified even, "I'm sorry I was trying not to do anything to make it weird again! I didn't mean to, okay? Please don't leave again! Honestly, I'll keep my hands to myself okay?" His eyes are so wide, so much fear and rejection swirling around in the beautiful hues.
"No, I'm," Wade looks down, sitting across from Peter on his bed, "you never did anything wrong. I fucked everything up, I always do."
"No, don't say that," Peter reaches out before snapping his arm back to himself, "don't blame yourself for me getting ahead of myself, just because you joke around and flirt a little doesn't mean anything," Peter scratched the back of his neck, "you flirt with everyone, I should have known it didn't mean anything. But I just thought… I don't know."
Wade just stares blankly at Peter, watching the way his bottom lip slightly trembles, the way his eyes fully display how nervous he is, his hands folding and unfolding in his lap. That pained feeling in Wade's chest intensifies by a thousand, his lungs struggle to remember how to breathe.
"You just mean a lot to me, and I thought it was more than it was. So I'm sorry for messing everything up and making you feel like you had to leave, being your friend is great and I don't want to lose that," Peter takes a deep breath, "you always make me laugh when I feel like shit, buy me food when I can't afford it myself, and you treat me like a hero instead of some kid like everyone else does. You-"
"Peter I'm terrible, what the hell are you going on about?" Wade's face scrunches up, sweat beading on his temples before rolling over scarred cheeks. Peter's got this all wrong, why does he always mix everything up like this?
"Yeah, you kill people and you're not always doing things the way I do them," Peter shrugs, "but I know you Wade, you kill rapists, terrorists, and other horrible people. You aren't out there just murdering at random, you're being a hero in your own way. Plus you never kill when you're with me, except that time you were… Well yeah, that one time. But Wade I like you just the way you are, I like hanging out with you," his hand softly rests on Wade's knee, a weak smile on his lips, "I wouldn't want you any other way, I fell for you like instantly like a total loser," he laughs nervously, eyes diverted.
"Is this a joke?" Wade narrows his eyes, he's sick of these games Peter plays. Toying with his emotions like this. It's not fair, he knows Peter figured him out ages ago, he knows Peter would never feel the same way as him.
"What? No?" Peter shrinks a little, "is it really that pathetic?" He falls onto his back against the pillows, "sorry, I'll try to push it down."
"Why do you do this? Is it funny to you?" Wade is furious, up on his feet and pacing, "is this how you take out your frustrations? You're all good and sweet, never killing bad guys so instead you fuck with me?"
"I'm not fucking with you," he shoots up into a sitting position, "I really like you Wade, like a lot. It's super embarrassing and like half the heros in New York make fun of me for it."
The world crashes down on Wade, that's right. Peter never does things the way he's supposed to.
I do not feel ashamed
After the confession Wade doesn't admit his own feelings, he doesn't think he should. It's probably better for Peter to think it's one sided, because once something happens for real they definitely won't be able to go back. Wade knows he'll take it too far, be too much for Peter. The love that drowns his senses would be overbearing and abusive if laid down on Peter, he'd suffocate him and probably hold him hostage so no one could steal it all away.
It's better for Peter if he can keep pretending he doesn't return his feelings. Let the guy find someone better, it shouldn't take too long. He'll meet someone and fall in love for real, whatever he's feeling for Wade is a misunderstanding. He thinks he understands Wade Wilson, but no one does. Peter thinks some kind words and soft touches will be enough to make Wade become something normal. It won't. Peter can't take Wade home to meet his aunt, she'd be terrified. Peter can't go out on fancy dinner dates with Wade, they'd get stared at or kicked out for his appearance. Peter can't make love to Wade, he'd get too disgusted and probably throw up.
It's not awkward, settling into basically how things were before Wade left for a year. Now he just doesn't get hurt anymore, not now that he knows dying on Peter could be risky. He needs to be alert and able to take care of things if Peter gets hurt again. It's also probably not a good idea to keep letting him touch Wade, he needs to keep those perfect fingers to himself for both their sakes.
I'm your hell
I'm your dream
I'm nothing in-between
It's all going well, two hero buddies patrolling together almost daily, sharing dinners, inside jokes, patching each other up when something goes wrong. It's good. It's more than what Wade deserves. But it's starting to become not enough, that drug called kindness is starting to be in too low of doses. He knows what it feels like to be held in Peter's arms. He knows what his lips feel like against his own. He knows Peter has tricked himself into thinking he likes him. I should be taking advantage of that.
Greedy and selfish have always been ways Wade has been described by other heros. They've always been right about him, he can't change who he is. So he just can't help himself when he starts reaching out for him, starts initiating those gentle touches he's become so addicted to. Pushing wavy locks of brunette hair from Peter's face while he works on his web shooters, sitting around on Wade's couch in the middle of the day like he actually has nowhere better to be.
"Mmm, am I boring you?" Peter chuckled, eyes not leaving his gadget as he fiddled.
"Never, baby boy, I could watch you work for hours," he smiles, it's the truth and he's not exactly honest all the time so it feels a little tingly to do it. For some reason it just feels so good and right, sitting around in each other's space. A little voice in the back of Wade's mind reminds him it isn't right now matter how good it feels. He watches Peter set the web shooter down on the coffee table before stretching out his back, it pops in several places from being hunched over for a few hours.
"I have my late class today," Peter groans, referring to his random class at four that's hours after the others. Apparently it was the only time available for the semester and Peter is already six years into trying to get his bachelor's degree, "I should get going, I really don't want to though," he whines and falls to the side into Wade's shoulder, "think I can get away with calling in sick again?"
"You did that last week Petey Pie," Wade smiles, running his fingers through soft locks and smoothing out the unrulier curls near the base of Peter's neck.
"I think I just got food poisoning," he mumbles sleepily against Wade's shoulder.
"Oh yeah? From my cooking?" Wade chuckles darkly, "you better not say that to me again."
"Shhh, my professor doesn't know how good of a cook you are, or what I ate. As far as he needs to know, I ate some dodgy sushi for lunch," Peter giggles impishly before reaching for his phone, a desperate stretch to the table while trying to keep himself glued to Wade's side. Peter is definitely not supposed to prefer lazing around in a mercenaries apartment over completing his degree he's been working so hard for.
"Maybe you should go to class," Wade pushes slightly, Peter straightening up with a pout.
"You're not supposed to be the responsible one, everyone says you're a bad influence on me," he crosses his arms over his chest and deepens the pout more dramatically, "I know I tell them their wrong all the time, but come on."
The keen smile on Peter's face makes Wade smile back, it's infectious and beautiful. That horrible feeling starts beating against Wade's chest cavity and his smile starts to fade. Peter ends up hemming and hawing, but goes to his class after telling Wade he has to buy them Thai food when he gets back. When he comes back. Peter spends a lot of time in Wade's apartment these days, half the time just showing up without any notice. Not that Wade minds, but it does make his heart feel weird.
You know you wouldn't want it
Any other way