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I've Been Thinking

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Wade can’t get the images of Peter dead on their kitchen floor out of his mind. It is vivid, completely awful, and not helped by the fact that Wade knows how heavy the smell of blood can hang in the air after a fresh kill. Of course, he knows that Yellow and White are right. Someone always comes along and fucks things up for him, and it’s always his fault. It would make no sense for this dreamlike life he is living right now to continue. Wade Wilson only ever gets happy endings in the fanfictions of young women, and even they often rip his happiness away. Life isn’t fiction, so it will undoubtedly be worse. If he could end it, he would. He has gone to the ends of the earth and space time, looking for a way to remove himself, and by association misery, from the world. Each time he has failed to find a way or has been thwarted by friends who then die because of something he does.

[we will get Peter hurt, possibly killed]
{Ellie too}
[it’s not an if. there is no historical evidence that it won’t happen]
{we should…}
[get it over with]
{rip off the band-aid}
[put Peter out of his misery]
{before someone else does it crueler}
[it’d be kinder, in the end]

Everything had been going well since the contract was signed, he had been doing well. Or so he thought. Obviously, he was wrong, as usual. He has been doing everything right. The katanas are hung up, he got on with S.H.I.E.L.D. and signed that awful contract they asked him to. A steady job, steady pay, steady apartment, a roommate who also has a steady job. Emily has been trying to talk to him about shared custody, which she has said in the past would probably never happen. Peter is always trying to tell him that it’s his lifestyle that makes him bad, but it’s not. It’s something inherently defective in him, something that has always been broken, will always be broken.

{we’re gonna end the world one day}
[that’s inevitable]
{you doomed the world because you were too chickenshit to die}
[it was even a good death]
{a common one}
[a natural one]
{and you lived for no reason}
[Vanessa lost you anyway]
{and you’ve done so much bad shit since}
[all you can do is give the world a break for a few hours]
{and you’re even refusing to do that}

There is a knock at the door, which is a surprise, since no one should be able to find him. He has a list of hideouts longer than Mr Fantastic can stretch out his arm. No one could be (un)lucky enough to find him. He ignores it, because maybe someone got the wrong room, knocked on the wrong door. Unfortunately, they don’t go away. They reveal themselves.

“I know you’re in there, Wade.” Of course it would be Peter fucking Parker. Why wouldn’t it be? He’s the boy wonder, he can do anything. He can even find a moral degenerate in a shitty motel in a shitty part of town when there are so many just like it in New York City. “Don’t make me break this door. We can’t afford to pay the damages.”

He opens the door after another round of knocking. “How? How in the fuck did you-”

“This place has a very high ‘skeeve factor’ on a few websites. There have been six domestic disputes involving guns here, just in the last year. A few dozen bullets fired, nine people dead. Who would notice one more gunshot?” Peter says. “I did call a few and ask about a guy wearing a red and black leather suit with a mask. You’re pretty recognizable, but do you know how many fucking shady motels there are? A lot.”

“I didn’t ask you to come looking for me.” Wade says defensively. “You could’ve spent the night doing literally anything else.”

“Yeah, you’d like that.” Peter says. “If I was less annoying and just let what you were gonna do here.”

[i expected him to be upset]
{he is, but he isn’t}
[he got here in time]
{so he’s being a little shit}

“Basically.” Wade says.

“Tough luck. I brought Chinese food.” Peter says. “So, what’s up? What happened?”

“I’m alive.” Wade replies. “Generally that leads to a lot of bad shit.”

“Wade.” Peter says. “You’re not as bad as you think you are.”

“Oh really?” Wade laughs mirthlessly. “Before you got here, I was imagining killing you. Before I left our apartment, I was imagining someone else killing you. There, you know what’s wrong now. Happy?”

Peter blinks in shock silence for a solid minute and a half, at least. When he speaks, he is very quiet. “Is it because I made you meet my friends?”

[of course]
{that good ol’ guilty conscience}
[he always blames himself]
{when really, we’re to blame}

“It’s nothing you did.” Wade says. “It’s just who I am.”

“Wait, why was someone else killing me?” Peter asks. “I’m a joy to be around.”

Wade bites his lip to keep from laughing, and he is glad Peter can’t see him through the mask. He hates that Peter can tug a genuine smile out of him right now. “Because of me.”

“You do realize that I can defend myself, right?”

“When I was kidnapped and killed, that could easily have been you. Only, you wouldn’t come back. If you die, you’re just dead. It’s over.” Wade says. “I mean, someone could keep me locked up for years, torturing me, killing me repeatedly. I could come out of that just as fine as I am now.”

“Okay.” Peter says. “Why were you killing me?”

“Aside from being a huge fuck up with a fucked up brain?” Wade asks. “Everyone who has ever gotten close to me dies. And they don’t die quickly, or easily. They suffer and they die screaming and crying.”

“Weasel is still alive.” Peter argues.

“Weasel runs a bar for bikers and mercenaries. No one would dare.” Wade says.

“And Vanessa’s alive.” Peter says. “And Emily.”

“Okay, fine, it’s just because I’m a piece of shit, then.” Wade’s voice cracks. “Damn it.”

“You’re not.” Peter says softly. “You’re my friend.”

“Why do I imagine killing people that I-” Wade stops short and is again glad of the mask, because his eyes go wide. Peter doesn’t give the pause a second thought, as Wade is upset and his voice was already breaking anyway.

[don’t say it]
{but he thought it}
[he can’t mean it]
{feels like he does}

“That I care about…” He says, instead of that other thing. Instead of the scariest word on the planet, in the universe. Instead of what he meant.

“I don’t know.” Peter says, and then his arms around Wade. Somehow, that’s worse. “But you could never kill me anyway.”


“I’m serious. I’m stronger than you and I go up against people with guns all the time. I could take you, no problem.” Peter says. “I promise.”


When they get home, there is a message on their answering machine. Wade gets it, as usual. It’s half Weasel leaving a ridiculous wrong-number, prank call voicemail in an equally ridiculous voice and half Weasel laughing hysterically. Peter is looking very sheepish in the doorway to the kitchen when Wade turns around.

“I can’t believe you told him about that.” Wade says.