Archive of Our Own

It’s hot.

The kind of hot that makes Peter feel like his eyeballs are going to melt right out of his head and drip down his face in a messy sort of goop. The world has long since gone hazy in the way only summer can bring on. There is sweat pooling along Peter’s everywhere , his suit giving it no place to escape. He can’t help but think this will be what finally manages to kill him as he lays in the only patch of shade to be found at the top of the apartment building he has stopped to rest on. 

He thinks that he had a good run, but there is only so much someone can do against the sun. Peter’s tried everything, screaming at it, throwing things, and even attempting to stare it down. There are still spots dancing in his vision from the last one. He wants to bathe in a bucket of ice. He wants to change his uniform design to a pair of booty shorts and nothing else. 

The press would have a field day. 

Wade would lose his mind. Peter giggles at the expression he imagines Wade would wear.

If Peter wasn’t such a chicken, he wouldn’t even have to consider changing his suit because just two floors below him exists the most perfectly air conditioned oasis to ever exist, so cold he’d have to put a jacket on. There are so many air conditioners running they should have caused a brownout by now. 

The only problem is that Wade Wilson lives there and they aren’t exactly on the best of terms at the moment.

Not since Peter watched Wade kill a man.

He can still hear the sound of Wade bashing the man’s skull into the ground. The way it went from a hard crack to a sloshing wet sound. It took Peter a few moments to realize the pink globs on the ground were pieces of a brain. Peter barely remembers pulling Wade off of what was left of the man.

Peter demanded answers and the only one he got was that Wade was in love with him. That he couldn’t let someone who tries to kill the Spidey and live. 

There was a man dead on the ground the first time Peter had someone tell him that they loved him. 

Dead because of him. Dead because he wasn’t good enough. He let Kraven get the jump on him one to many times, and now Wade had made sure it would never happen again. 

Worse, he knew Wade was going to go after Kraven and he hadn’t been fast enough to stop it. Just in time to watch the blood run along the pavement.

He did the only thing he could think of to do in that situation; he ran away.

The plan was to never see Wade again, and yet here he is still contemplating using the man so he can escape the heat. What can he say? He’s desperate. 

He might also miss the walking disaster. It should have been easy to stay away, but Wade had somehow managed to worm his way into so many of the small parts of Peter’s life that it felt wrong not to have him there anymore. Wrong enough that Peter contemplates overlooking such a heinous act. It’s something he never thought he would do.

The heat must be to blame, baking his brain like a potato. 

There’s going to be a puddle of sweat when he stands up. So gross . Peter hates summer. He can get a brief respite from the heat when he’s swinging around, but he’s been so broke lately (always) that he can’t afford to waste the webbing. If he could he would just constantly be in the air, the wind passing through the spandex like it’s barely there.

Dream big, right?

Peter can hear someone pacing on the other side of the rooftop access door. They’ve been at it for over ten minutes (or possibly an hour, time has lost all meaning), muttering to themselves. It’s distracting and yet Peter can’t seem to gather the energy to move.

The door swings open, and it shouldn't be as surprising as it is to hear Wade calling out to him. Peter flops his head to the side to take in the blurry shape of Wade. How can he stand to be wearing a hoodie with the hood up? And dark colored sweats that make Peter’s legs feel even hotter just looking at them. If Peter was him, he’d be naked. So very naked. Why does Wade always have to wear so much clothes?

“You’ve, uh, been up here for a while. Not that I was spying, only I saw you swing by and I have cameras up here, I don’t like surprises you know? So I was watching but only because I thought you would be turning around to leave at any moment, but you kept not moving, and I thought it would be good to check in on you, just to make sure you didn’t pass out from the heat. Because you haven’t really been moving around. But I mentioned that.” Wade rambles, his words coming out in a mess. It takes Peter’s brain a bit to process it.

“I don’t think I’m dead.” Peter replies slowly, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. 

“I brought you some water.” Wade tosses over a bottle. It arches high up into the air, the sun hitting it just right so it shines brightly just before it smacks into Peter’s face. 

Peter folds in on himself, clutching at his nose. “ Shit . Damn. Okay, I’m awake now, promise.”

Wade stifles a laugh (when has he ever done that? Things must be more strained between them than Peter thought). “Spidey's greatest foe, a water bottle .”

“Yeah,” Peter says as he rolls his eyes and snatches the bottle up from the ground. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll make everyone jealous for that coveted Spidey’s arch nemesis spot.” He pushes up his mask with one hand before cracking the top and taking a long drink, tipping his head back. He drinks it so fast the water spills out from the corners of his mouth and doesn’t slow down until it’s empty. 

This time Wade doesn’t stifle his laugh. Peter missed that sound. He wonders if it would be weird to ask to record it.

“So what brings you all the way over to my side of town? Or was it just the dehydration?” There’s a tinge of nervousness to Wade’s voice that Peter almost feels like he’s imagining.

“Well, it was also the fact that I know you keep your place colder than Santa’s sweatshop.” 

“Gotta keep the penguins happy.”

“Please tell me you don’t have penguins downstairs.”

“Not anymore,” Wade says with a wink. 

Peter wishes he could tell if Wade was joking or not. It’s impossible to tell sometimes, and Peter wouldn't put it past Wade to actually try and keep penguins in his apartment. He remembers the armadillos, and Peter wouldn’t put anything past Wade.

Peter hesitates before asking, “Think we could go down to your apartment for a bit?” 

Wade actually flinches back, his face scrunching up in confusion. “You actually want to spend time with me alone in my apartment? You do plan on me being there, right?”

Chewing on his bottom lip, Peter ponders over how to answer that question. It was so stupid of him to come here today thinking they could just hang out like nothing happened. Like Wade didn’t pour his heart open and profess his undying love the last time they saw each other. That there wasn’t someone dead over that fact.

Peter has been doing his best not to think about it and forget the whole thing, why couldn’t Wade? He can’t help but frown at the situation. “I wouldn’t kick you out of your own apartment.”

Wade shrugs his shoulders like it would be no big deal if Peter did do such a thing, it probably wouldn’t be to him. “So you’re here to what, pal around?”

It’s certainly a nicer thing to say instead of the truth that Peter just wants to use him for his AC. Peter’s even willing to have this conversation to get at it. “Yup, just two buds talking it out. Like buddies do.”

Wade takes a step closer with his hand out like he means to help Peter up to his feet before he thinks better of it and his arm drops back to his side. Wade turns and goes back through the door. 

“Well, come on then, bud. ” Wade says the last word like it’s poison in his mouth. 

Peter pushes himself up from the ground and follows along down the stairs until they reach the floor Wade lives on. When Wade opens the door to his apartment Peter can feel the cold wafting out, it’s the best thing he’s felt in weeks. He honestly shivers when he steps inside. Peter doesn’t even think his fridge can get this cold. In context, Wade’s outfit makes a little more sense now.

All the lights are off, and Wade makes no move to turn any of them on. The blinds are drawn closed on all the windows, letting only a sliver of light in from the edges where they don't quite cover.

Wade sinks down into his couch, the cushions sagging under his weight. He sits dead center and doesn’t leave any room for Peter to join. Which is just fine with Peter, it’s not like he cherished the times they would be pressed up against each other as they played games until the sun came up. 

Peter grabs a chair from the kitchen table and pulls it into the living room, flipping it so he sits with the back of the chair facing Wade. He crosses his arms and rests them along the top, his legs open wide. 

Wade kicks at his coffee table, adding another dent into the wood and just narrowly missing his laptop. One of the empty chip bags falls off. Peter has just enough time to spy a feed from several viewpoints of the rooftop on Wade's laptop before he kicks that closed with his heel. Peter cringes at the display of nonchalance Wade has over his personal effects.

“If you’re gonna formally reject me, just make it quick.” 

There is a brief moment where Peter contemplates a relationship with Wade solely because of his air conditioners. Peter can see two and doesn’t doubt there is another in the bedroom. There are three fans circulating the cold through the apartment, there is an extension cable running through the living room, the frayed edges of it giving Peter some concern. It’s definitely overkill for an apartment this size but that’s just how Wade rolls. It’s one of his worst and best qualities. 

"Don't you think we're better as friends? I don't understand why you want to ruin that." 

"I'm in love with you."

"Love isn't everything."

Wade sits up, narrowing his eyes. "Who hurt you?"

Peter rolls his eyes and attempts to laugh off the question. “Do you seriously want that list?”

“Yes . Don’t think I won’t pay each and every one of them a visit,” Wade growls out. 

It sends a shiver of pure desire up Peter’s spine. He clears his throat as he looks away, focusing on the way the bottom left of the Scott Pilgrim poster is starting to unstick and curl. “It would certainly be the event of the year if you did, I bet I could sell tickets. I’d be able to set up my own little arctic zone, instead of the inferno I got going on.”

“You don’t have AC at your place?” 

Peter snorts out a laugh. “I don’t even have a fan.”

“One, wrong , I’m your biggest fan, and two, what do you mean you don’t have one?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, I just don’t have the extra cash right now.” Peter waves his hand like he can dismiss the whole subject just like that. 

Wade’s whole body goes tense, and Peter swears that if he was a cat all of his hair would be standing on end. He starts to stand up from the couch but aborts the motion part way through. When he speaks it comes out measured and calm like he’s forcing all the emotion from his voice. “You can buy a fan for twenty bucks, you seriously don’t have twenty dollars?” 

Peter kicks his toe into the carpet, regretting mentioning his financial situation. He’s always tried to keep personal things out of their conversations but Wade has always been good at lowering Peter’s guard. “It’s not a big deal.”

This time Wade doesn’t stop himself from getting up, he’s like a blur moving around his apartment as he unhooks each of his air conditioner units. He pulls each and every one over to Peter, tossing them down in front of Peter reminiscent of a cat showing off it’s kill.

In total, there are four air conditioners and five fans piled high. “Uh, Wade?” Peter asks. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping my little Spider all cool, can’t have you melting away.” Wade’s face stretches wide in a grin, he looks so very proud of himself. He tosses one last fan onto the pile, a little square one that he found somewhere in the mess of his kitchen. 

“You want me to take all of this?” Peter stands in shock, already backing away from the pile. 

“You can and you will,” Wade threatens, though there is no real heat behind it.

Peter scoffs at the idea. “You can’t make me.” 

Wade’s tone turns teasing as he asks, “You really want to test that?” 

There is some part of Peter that really does. The idea of getting into a no holds barred scuffle with Wade and really testing which of them would come out on top. Peter would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought of a million ways to take Wade down. Wondered if Wade would be able to keep up with how fast Peter can move. He knows how dangerous Wade can be. Would he go all out in a fight against Peter or would he hold back? 

“I should go,” Peter says as he turns to leave. 

“Just take one,” Wade pleads. “It’s no big deal, I’ve got so many!”

“Why do you need so many anyways?”

“How else am I going to deal with your scorching heat?” Wade fans himself like he’s a southern belle. 

Peter’s laughing before he can think better of it and does his best to turn it into a cough. It’s not very convincing, and Peter tries his best not to draw attention to it. He eyes up the pile of electronics again, the temptation to take one rising. It would be so nice to actually get some sleep tonight. “You really won’t miss one?”

“I won’t even notice it’s gone!” Wade proclaims cheerfully, already scooping up one of the models off the floor and shoving it into Peter’s arms. 

It’s a little awkward to carry and Peter ends up having to make a net out of his webbing to carry all of it. Wade makes all sorts of sounds of encouragement over it and tries to steal Peter’s web shooters to give it a try. It’s easy enough to stop him though so he must not be trying too hard. 

It takes a bit of work to get the bundle out the window, he lets it hang down below himself while he swings one-handed all the way home. He has lots of practice with the amount of times he picks up food as Spidey after patrol. 

The only thing that Wade didn’t include was the manual, which Peter’s not sure Wade would have even glanced at before throwing in the trash. It’s easy enough to look up instructions online and install though, Peter has a blackbelt in google-fu after all. The rest of his evening is spent laying next to his new air conditioner and basking in the cold waft of air. 

It’s the most comfortable he’s been in his apartment probably ever . He falls asleep to the hum of the fan and the thought of how grateful he is to have Wade in his life. 

It doesn’t seem fair that crime should continue during a heat wave. It’s too hot to move, so surely that means it’s too hot for crime. Why can’t criminals just stay home? If they absolutely must do criminal activities they should at least be willing to do it in some air conditioned location. Peter’s already dreaming of getting to go back home and have an ice cold shower and crank the AC. 

He’s only had it for a week, and he would kill anyone that tried to take it from him. 

The sun is just going down, and Peter wants to stay out a little longer just in case, even if he thinks his suit has melted and fused onto his skin by now. The heat must really be getting to him because he could swear Deadpool is on the roof of the building across the street jumping around and waving at him. 

Peter rubs at his eyes but the image of Deadpool remains. Did something happen?

He doesn’t seem to be in distress, just excited, and since there isn’t anything going on at the moment, Peter figures he might as well say thank-you for the air conditioner. It’s the polite thing to do, after all.

Peter has to give himself some room before taking a run and leaping over the distance of the street to land on the building Wade is on. Wade is kind enough to give a round of applause at the feat. 

“Thought you might be close to melting out here, so I brought you a treat,” Wade says as he waves around a couple packages of popsicles in Peter’s face. 

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Peter pushes up his mask as he snatches one of the packages and tears it open with his teeth. His own face looks back up at him in all it’s lopsided frozen glory. “Spider-man popsicles, really Wade?”

“Too cannibalistic?”

“Just a nice reminder I’ll never get a royalty check.” Peter takes a bite all the same and let’s the piece melt in his mouth. It tastes of artificial strawberry lemonade. He wants to eat a whole box of them.

“Didn’t peg you as a biter, Spidey.” Wade pushes up his own masks and sucks on the top of his Spidey head with an audible slurp. 

Peter takes a larger bite this time, his teeth clacking with the force of it. He laughs around the popsicle as Wade’s eyes seem to bug out of his head. 

Peter finishes up his popsicle in no time and chews on the stick when he’s done. Wade seems to be taking his time with his, only half done. It’s melting into a giant mess, and making his hand sticky. 

“Don’t you get brain freeze eating that fast?” Wade asks, licking some of the juices from his gloves. 

Peter just shakes his head. He wonders if he can get away with stealing the last bite of Wade’s popsicle. 

His desire must be obvious because Wade holds out his for Peter to bite. Which, Peter is all too happy to take. He moves forward at lightning speed only to have Wade pull the popsicle back and stick the whole thing into his own grinning mouth. Peter’s left with his mouth hanging open, a sound of distress working it’s way out. 

Wade tsks. “Gotta be faster than that, Spidey.” 

Peter gives a small growl as a warning before launching himself at Wade and tackling him down to the ground. He has just enough of a moment to remember that he probably shouldn’t be doing stuff like that with Wade anymore before Wade wraps his arms around Peter’s waist. He’s looking up at Peter like he hung the stars in the sky. They’re too close already and yet Wade keeps getting closer as he slowly leans up and slots his mouth against Peter’s.

He tastes like popsicles: sweet and sticky. Just like with popsicles, Peter immediately wants another. Wade must take Peter’s lack of disapproval as permission because he actually kisses Peter. His lips moving in a slow lazy sort of kiss like he has all day to do this. 

Peter wiggles his arms between them and pushes at Wade’s chest to break the kiss. 

Wade gives a cheeky grin. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Peter pushes himself up and off Wade with a sigh. “You’re not even sorry, are you?”

“Not really.” Wade’s grin widens to the point that Peter is reminded of a shark. Sometimes Peter forgets who he is dealing with, and he makes sure to increase the distance between them as he brings his heart rate back down. “It’s the going rate for popsicles these days.”

“It really isn’t.” Peter rubs at his temples in frustration. “I should get back out there. Next time, let me know in advance if I’m supposed to kiss you for treats.”

“Treat for you, treat for me. It’s quid pro quo!”

“I’d rather not have one then!” Peter hollers, already jumping off the roof and slinging a web to swing away. 

He supposes he should have expected something like that from Wade, but he’s still in shock over it. Mostly freaking out at how much he’s not freaking out over it. 

He grabs another popsicle an hour later when the heat starts to be too much again, picking out the same sickly sweet kind that features his likeness. The vendor judges him silently for his purchase. Peter judges him for charging him. The taste has him thinking of the slow slide of Wade’s lips on his own. He’s going to need to come up with something else to eat on hot days.

After preventing a bank robbery on fifth, he stops an attempted mugging on the way home. He ends up sitting with the victim, some boy no older than himself, well into the night. It’s the first time the boy has had something like that happen to him, and he doesn’t know how to handle it. Peter doesn’t have it in himself to leave someone when they’re in so much distress. 

The result is that Peter gets next to no sleep, and in a rare bit of self indulgence, he decides to get himself an iced coffee — the biggest one he can get. He’s going all in on being caffeinated. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one to have the same idea, there’s a line practically out of the building. Peter can’t quite close the door behind him, but there is no way he is waiting outside in the heat. Everyone else in the line turns to glare at Peter, not that it does any good. Peter feels no remorse for trying to keep himself cool. 

The guy in a brown shirt and khaki shorts, a true fashion disaster, who is standing one person ahead of him makes the loudest, snarkiest comment about it, that everyone probably heard it in the cramped cafe. The person he’s with is standing an inch away from him, making the only reason to be that vocal is so Peter can hear. Peter takes pride in the amount of restraint he has in not saying something back. He’s really earning that iced coffee today. 

If only the guy left it at the one comment. 

“Some people just have no respect. It’s such a waste of energy to have all the cold air escape. Should just wait their turn like the rest of us instead of making us feel the heat from outside. I mean look at the poor sap in front of us wearing a full hoodie in this weather. He dearly needs the air conditioner. Did you see his face? There’s no way he can go without covering up. Must be dying in this weather.”

Peter can see the man, covered from head to toe. The man’s entire back stiffens at the comment, and Peter can see the way he stretches out to his full height. He’s huge . Who in their right mind would say stuff about someone of his stature? Peter really doesn’t feel like having to break up a fight this morning. Everyone in the line freezes except for the khaki wearing moron who just keeps prattling on like he isn’t about to have his insides rearranged. How does he not see those muscles? Does he not sense the danger looming down on him?

Hoodie guy turns just enough that Peter can see a face, and he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is to see Wade out in the wild. Peter has no idea how he’s going to stop the massacre that is about to happen.

He’s opening his mouth before he knows what he's doing. “Clearly the wrong person is covering up. Do you think if I asked he would let me borrow his hoodie so I didn’t have to look at you anymore? I might be more tempted to gag you with it though.”

The blonde in front of Peter tries to stifle her laughter at the way khakis guy turns back to glare at Peter, his whole face going purple. His mouth hangs open like he’s about to go on a long tirade, and just as he inhales to start, his mouth is shoved full of fabric. The whole cafe goes silent as Wade forces more and more of his hoodie into the man’s mouth. 

“The pretty boy wanted to see you gagged. I’m not one to deny that dream,” Wade says gleefully as he wraps the excess fabric around the guys head, tying the arms together so it stays put. 

Khaki’s friend makes a remark about calling the police which only makes Wade cackle like a mad man. Taking a step towards the two of them, Wade draws up his fist like he’s going to strike them but stops at making them both flinch. Peter can tell the moment when the two of them actually take in Wade’s appearance and the scars that cover every inch of his body. 

“Go ahead and call the cops if you think they can get here in time,” Wade bellows as he flexes his arms, showing off that they’re bigger than either of the men's heads. 

The two of them flee the cafe like their lives depend on it, which it probably does. 

There’s a silent moment where no one seems to move, everyone silently agreeing to just ignore the whole thing for the sake of getting a coffee. The next person in line is called forward and everyone goes back to looking at their phones. 

Everyone except Wade.

His eyes are locked on Peter, a calculating look to them that makes Peter feel nervous. Without his hoodie on, Wade is just wearing a grey muscle shirt where you can clearly see the amount he has been sweating. Peter’s never gotten the chance to view Wade’s arms exposed like they are, where he can see just how much bulk they have. It’s no surprise to see the scars covering them, but Peter is too distracted by the way Wade is obviously still flexing. 

“Can I buy your coffee for you?” 

It takes a moment for Peter to register that words are being spoken towards him, “Sorry, what?”

“I said can—”

“Yes. Yeah. That would be—” Peter swallows and tears his eyes away from Wade’s arms, his face going red as he catches Wade’s smirk. “—fine. I like coffee. That’s why I’m here after all.”

Wade waves Peter ahead in the lineup, the blonde before Peter is rolling her eyes instead of bothering to fight it. Peter can’t blame her, no one in their right mind would challenge Wade on anything after that display if they had half a brain.

They’re next in line, and Peter quickly orders his drink though he attempts to order a size down so he doesn’t appear too greedy. Wade just scoffs and tells them to make it the largest size like getting anything else is a waste of time. Which it sort of is in this heat. 

Drinks in hand, they reluctantly head back out into the harsh sun. Wade picks his hoodie up from the sidewalk and shakes it out but doesn’t make any move to put it back on.

Peter takes a long drink from his cup, almost draining half of it in one go. It really hits the spot.

“Guess I should have gotten you two.” Peter can hear the smile in Wade’s voice.

“It was kind enough of you to get me one.”

Wade hums in agreement, taking a sip of his own. Peter’s just about to say goodbye when Wade speaks up again. “So this is what you look like without the mask.”

Peter chokes on his drink and has to thump on his own chest to get his lungs working again. He stares back at Wade with his eyes wide. “Sorry? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you think I work as a mascot or something?” He’s sweating in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature. 

“ Oh , I wasn’t supposed to notice.”

“Notice?” Peter laughs nervously and wonders if he could outrun Wade. Probably not without using some of his enhanced speed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, stranger I’ve never met before.”

If it wasn’t so hot out, Peter likes to think he would have had the good sense to take Wade’s punch. Instead he catches the blow in his fist on reflex. It’s not a playful punch either. Wade had gone all out, putting all his strength into it. No one Peter’s size would be able to take that without flinching. 

“Shit,” Peter mutters as he pushes Wade’s arm back at the man. 

“So... are you busy or you wanna come over and play some games?”

There are about a million other things Peter needs to get done today, but they all involve being outside in the hot sun. Wade’s place is just around the corner, and Peter knows the AC will be running. 

Wade’s voice goes low and sultry as he says, “I’ve got Ghost of Tsushima.”

Peter perks up, he doesn’t have the cash to play new games, and who wouldn’t want to play as a samurai? “Alright, don’t twist my arm.” 

Wade bounds along like an overly excited puppy as they head towards his apartment. It’s weirdly adorable. 

Which makes Peter feel bad. Is this leading Wade on? Is Peter a bad friend? 

Wade, as usual, is a jerk and doesn’t actually let Peter play. 

“For someone who uses katanas in real life, you suck at this.” Peter grumbles, sulking further into the couch. 

Wade scoffs, his concentration focused on the tv as he hammers away on the buttons on the controller. “I’m playing on lethal mode, that’s above hard you know.”

“By the looks of it you should be on easy. Hand it over and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“My game, get your own.”

“Oh, you can upgrade your sword, maybe that will help you not die so often. If anything can.”

“It’s such an insult to the craftsmanship that goes into katanas that they think you can just go out and improve them. Did they even do their homework when making this game?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “It’s fun that way. Seriously you don’t deserve to play. Give me, give me!”

Peter has to wrestle the controller away just to get a turn and even then he has to fight off Wade the entire time to keep it. Which is a whole other experience with Wade not wearing anything that covers his arms. Peter would never have thought it distracting before he saw them but it is . 

He does his best not to look at them. Which really isn’t working out that great for him  because he’s practically drooling.

He manages to throw Wade off the couch and onto the floor. He keeps him pinned there with a foot on his chest so he can actually play some of the game without Wade snatching at the controller. 

“I can’t believe you thought I was just going to just watch you play the game,” Peter says as he presses a little harder down on Wade as the man tries to struggle free. 

“It’s my game. Why wouldn’t I want to play it?”

“You invited me over to play! That implies I actually get to play. Plus, you have real swords; leave the virtual ones to me.”

“Owning katanas doesn’t make me a real samurai and you better let me up soon or you’re going to regret it.” Wade growls low and deep. Peter can feel the vibrations from it travel up his leg. 

“Hard to see how you’re going to make me regret anything from waaaay down there.” Peter’s smirk doesn’t last long as Wade gets a grip around Peter’s ankle and does this twist that sends Peter’s whole body spinning off the couch in the blink of an eye. 

Peter falls face first and gets a mouth full of carpet. He prefers not to think about when it was last vacuumed. Wade rolls himself with the sort of agility you would never expect from someone his size and pins Peter down on the floor with a knee pressing into his lower back, forcing an harsh exhale out of him. Wade grabs Peter’s wrists and pins them above his head before leaning down to whisper in his ear, “I’m all about that regret, princess.”

A shiver runs up Peter’s spine. He wants to buck Wade off and flee the room. No, he wants to pull him closer and see what sort of expression is on Wade’s face. Wade’s breath is hot on Peter’s neck, his lower lip brushing along Peter’s skin and sticking for a brief moment. Then they’re on Peter in full force, sucking a deep bruise that makes Peter squirm under his weight. A low groan escapes Peter as he tilts his head to the side to give Wade better room who readily moves down along Peter’s neck. 

The knee on his back slides down until it’s between his thighs, letting Peter arch his back and press into Wade behind him. Wade grips at Peter’s waist, and presses another series of kisses along Peter’s neck that leaves him panting. 

“Holy deep fried fish sticks,” Wade says the words like a prayer. 

Peter expects to have Wade go back to kissing at his neck; instead, he pulls away and walks over to the kitchen. Peter listens to the sound of the tap running as he’s frozen in place. It’s only at the sound of the water turning off that he jumps up off the floor and races to the bathroom. He slams the door shut behind him.

He can hardly believe what his reflection looks like, all messed up hair and flushed face. A series of dark marks are already forming on his neck, each one like a giant neon sign that Wade Wilson was there. 

Peter pushes his thumb into the biggest ones, ashamed of how turned on he is by the sting. He turns only the cold water on and lets it run for a moment so that it turns icey before bending over awkwardly to get his face under the spray. He stays like that until his skin goes numb and his thoughts clear.

Why did he let Wade do that?

He straightens up and wets his fingers a few times as he pushes his hair back out of his face. He looks a lot less like he’s horribly aroused and wants to get fucked on the carpet now and a lot more like the soggy rat that he is. He managed to make a mess of Wade’s bathroom in the short time that he was in there, not that it was the epitome of cleanliness before. Still, he does his best to wipe up the majority of the water before leaving. 

Wade’s sitting on the couch, playing a different game, already looking like he was totally unaffected by the previous situation. Great, just Peter then.

In lieu of a greeting Wade grunts and holds out a second controller for Peter. “Multiplayer seems like a better idea.” The loading screen for Mortal Kombat flashes across the screen. Peter snatches up the controller and chooses his fighter. It’s an awkward first match where they don’t say a word to each other, the only sound is the smashing of the buttons on their controllers. 

Peter loses spectacularly, not much of a surprise when Wade owns the game and has all the time to practice. Peter bumps his shoulder into Wade as he says, “Lucky shot. You’re going down, pickle butt.”

There is one of the biggest grins on Wade’s face when he turns to look at Peter. “You’re in my house, Spidey. Prepare to have your ass handed to you in every conceivable way.”

They do another match, and as soon as it begins, Peter twists around on the couch and kicks at Wade’s hands. “Ohhh, looks like you’re not doing so hot.”

“Cheater! Filthy little cheater!” Wade hollers as he tries to twist out of reach of Peter’s long legs. He holds his controller up over his head where Peter can’t reach, but by then, Peter has already won.

“Take that! Spidey in the house!” Peter makes a loud whoop in triumph.

“Rematch! That one didn’t count!”

Peter straightens himself out on the couch. “You cheat all the time and it always counts!”

Wade sulks down into the couch. “I do not.”

They play another match, and halfway through, when it looks like Peter is going to lose, he resorts to kicking again. He would never say it out loud but he’s glad their relationship isn’t damaged from earlier. 

When Peter’s stomach growls, Wade buys them a pizza. They watch a movie while eating it. Apparently it’s sacrilegious that Peter has never seen Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Wade laughs so hard that he chokes on a bite, and Peter has to thump on his back to get him to spit it out. It bounces across the carpet and rolls under a chair. Wade makes no move to go get it, and continues on eating like nothing happened, much to Peter’s horror. 

“Can you get fat?” The question slips out of Peter’s mouth without his permission.

Wade stops eating for a second as he ponders the question. “I guess? I’ve never tried.”

“Does your body ever change? Do you need to workout to stay like that? Can you get bigger?”

Wade puffs out his chest. “You want me to get bigger?”

“No,” Peter admits, blush tinting his cheeks. “You’re too much to deal with as you are. So, your body doesn’t change?”

Wade puts his pizza down on the couch next to him, his face going serious. “I’ll probably stay exactly like this until the end of the universe.” 

“Sorry.” Peter wants to take his question back. The thought of Wade all alone as everything fades away sends chills down Peter’s spine. He can’t really blame Wade for doing everything he can to keep the people in his life around for as long as he can.

The serious look on Wade’s face vanishes into a smile. Wade stuffs the rest of his slice of pizza into his face and turns back to the movie. Wade’s the one to bump his shoulder into Peter’s this time, and it’s enough to get the tension to drain out of Peter. He gives a small smile and grabs another slice of pizza for himself. 

The heat needs to stop . Peter’s dead already, now it’s just overkill. Trying to exist outside of the comfort of his air conditioned apartment is hell . How people manage to go about their daily lives is a mystery. There are still people dressed up in suits heading to their jobs. Peter’s given up on trying to dress in any sort of fashionable manner. He is outside in a cropped tank top with the word animal printed across the chest, and a pair of cropped shorts that really live up to the name. He’s showing off enough thigh he should be charging for the view. 

He wishes he was rich enough to order every meal in. Unfortunately, he has to make his way to the grocery store like the rest of the common folk. At least he can hang out in the frozen food aisle until he feels like a person again. 

When he does get there, he actually has to fight the temptation to climb right into the freezer. He wonders if the store would just let him live there for the rest of summer. Peter knows there are four food groups, but he wonders how irresponsible it would be to purchase nothing but ice cream to take home. People can live off ice cream, right?

After the second time someone tells him off for keeping the freezer door open, he just presses his forehead against the glass, his basket forgotten at his feet. It’s going to take awhile for him to feel up to heading back outside to go home. 

There’s the sound of a crash behind Peter, and a can goes rolling by his feet. Peter turns to find Wade standing behind him, mouth hanging open. His grocery basket is on the floor, it’s contents spread out everywhere. 

Feeling a little embarrassed about his choice in outfit, Peter tries to tug his shirt down lower. It doesn’t help, and he can feel Wade’s gaze hot on his midriff. He’s never been more embarrassed to own a belly button. “Uh, hey Wade.”

Wade drops to his knees and falls face first into the ground, his forehead hitting the linoleum flooring with an audible crack that makes Peter wince. Wade rolls over onto his back. 

“Shit, the view is even better down here. I might pass out.” 

“Wade,” Peter hisses out. He’s tempted to hide inside the freezer for an entirely different reason now. “Come on, get up.”

“I’ve lost all feeling in my limbs. You’ll have to drag me out of here. Lift me with those thighs. Wanna see those bad boys flexing.”

Peter takes a step forward, but only so he can kick at Wade’s arm. “They’re just legs, come on get up .”

“ ust legs. You say that like I fantasize about having every pair of legs I see thrown over my shoulders.”

Peter rolls his eyes as he makes a sound of disgust. “Don’t you though?”

Wade throws a hand up over his heart. “Wow, you wound me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic and you can help me carry ice cream back to my apartment. If you’re extra good, you can even eat some of it.”

That perks Wade right up. “Your apartment?”

“Don’t get so excited, it's a complete shit hole.”

“I can’t help but get excited about every little detail about you.” Wade bats his eyes. It would almost be endearing if he didn’t also rub his crotch at the same time. 

“Fuck off.” Peter’s voice cracks, and he gives a small kick to Wade’s shin. He bends over and grabs Wade’s arm to pull him up off the floor, ignoring the wolf whistle it earns. Once Wade is back on his feet, Peter makes sure to take a large step back from the man. 

“What kind of ice cream do you want to get? Because I’m not sharing mine.” Wade grabs a carton of chocolate chip mint. 

“I’m going to get something that doesn’t taste like my toothpaste.” Peter grabs a carton of vanilla ice cream.

“One, how dare, chocolate chip mint is the greatest. Two, Vanilla? You can’t get more boring than that. “

“That’s what the fudge and sprinkles are for,” Peter huffs in annoyance as he tosses the ice cream into his basket. 

“And the twenty packs of instant noodles?”

“You’re welcome to try that on ice cream, but that’s lunch for the week.”

“No protein? Growing boys like you need protein.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure I’m not still considered a growing boy at twenty-two, Wade.”

“We’ve established an age,” Wade coos in excitement as he does a little hop for joy.

“You don’t behave and you don’t get to come over.”

Wade mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key. Peter knows he keeps spares in his back pocket though. Wade can’t help but talk constantly. 

Wade tosses anything he can reach into Peter’s basket as they head towards the checkout. He makes a big deal out of putting a few packs of beef jerky and pepperoni in while at the till. Peter doesn’t fight as strongly as he should to stop Wade from paying. He honestly can’t afford all the extras Wade snatched so it seems like a fair trade. 

It only takes Wade a block away from the store to start talking again, even going so far as to mime unlocking his mouth.

“Do you have roommates? A harem? Pets? Just so you know, lizards do not like me. So if you keep a crocodile in your bathtub, you should tell me now.”

“I don’t have a crocodile. Who has a crocodile in their bathtub? That’s ridiculous.”

“We obviously hang out in very different circles.”

“I don’t think that was ever in doubt.”

“So roommates or maybe a live-in girlfriend… or boyfriend?”

“I wouldn’t be able to live with someone without them figuring out what I do in my spare time.”

Wade gasps in shock. “You have weird porn habits too?” 

Peter sputters. “What no.”

“Must be really weird if you won’t even talk about it.” Wade has a wicked grin plastered across his face that Peter wants to smack right off.

“I don’t even watch porn.”

“Everyone watches porn.”

“I think we really hang out with different crowds.”

“So you don’t live with anyone, are you not dating someone for the same reason?”

Peter clicks his tongue in annoyance. “You could say that.”

Wade makes a thoughtful sound but doesn’t push the subject further. It would have been less concerning if Wade continued to talk. The silence eating away between them has Peter turning into a nervous wreck. He desperately wants to know what Wade is thinking or if he is plotting something. 

It’s only once they’re inside Peter’s apartment building that Wade speaks up again. 

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding. I’ve lived in some real shit holes in my time and they were all better than this place. Is this place condemned ? Please tell me you don’t actually pay to live here.”

“It’s the only place I could afford,” Peter grumbles. He’s more than embarrassed now. He’s never brought anyone over before, but he thought Wade wouldn’t judge him. 

Wade grabs Peter’s shoulder and gets him to turn around so they’re facing each other. Wade sounds so sincere, his voice soft as he says, “It’s hard doing everything by yourself. I only have respect for everything you do.”

Peter will deny the tears in his eyes until the day he dies. He chokes up a bit as he says, “You’re going soft on me, Wilson.”

Wade gives a small smile and reaches out to brush his thumb under Peter’s eye. “I’m just a big ol’ teddy bear, didn’t you know?”

Heart beating fast, Peter forces himself to take a step back. “Come on, we’ve got four flights of stairs to go up, and there is no elevator.”

Wade groans but follows along all the same. “A walkup, really?”

“Don’t dawdle or the ice cream will melt,” Peter scolds. 

“Aye aye, Captain.” Wade gives a small salute before pushing past Peter and racing up the stairs. 

There is no way Peter can let Wade win a race at the place he lives . He has a reputation to hold with these stairs. Willing to take his chances that no one else is around, he jumps on the wall and climbs straight up. 

Wade squawks in disbelief when he spots Peter. “Foul! That’s cheating!”

“You never said it was against the rules!”

“It was implied!”

Peter cackles but doesn’t slow down. He reaches the fourth floor well before Wade who is cursing up a storm below. Peter races toward his apartment, hoping to have a moment to pick some of the laundry up off the floor before Wade comes in. 

He tosses the bag with the ice cream right into the freezer as soon as the door is open before turning to the deal with the rest of the apartment. He winces at the sight, clothes practically covering every surface of his studio apartment. There is only one small closet for storage, and it’s already full. He grabs the shirts hanging over the back of his desk chair before moving on to the floor. He does his best to make sure he gets all the underwear. He can hear Wade’s footsteps approaching down the hallway, and in a panic, Peter shoves everything into the top of his closet and slams the door shut so it stays there. 

With a little spin, he hops up onto the edge of his bed. Wade stops dead in the doorway, his eyes locking onto Peter. 

“Holy shit, I’ve imagined this moment so many times.”

Peter’s face heats up. “I don’t have a couch to sit on.”

“Really?”

A small squeaky laugh erupts out of Peter. “Uh, yeah? Just take a look around.”

With great effort, Wade tears his eyes away from Peter and he does a quick glance around the place. “Well, it’s nicer in here than the hallways would suggest.”

“I know,” Peter says dumbly. “Are you going to come in?”

“I can cum in you?” Wade utters in disbelief, sagging against the door jamb. 

“Wade ,” Peter shouts out, affronted. He wishes he had bothered to change instead of cleaning up as Wade’s gaze hones onto his navel once again. The temptation to cover himself is unbelievably strong, but he doesn’t want to give Wade the satisfaction of knowing he got to him. “You can’t eat ice cream in the hall.”

Wade nods his head and slowly steps in and closes the door behind himself. Just like that, they’re alone in a small room together. He might not have thought this through.

Peter clears his throat and jumps up off his bed to turn on the air conditioner over by the window. The hum of the fan helps ground him back into reality and not in the fantasy land of how good Wade looked just now standing in his doorway. “There are spoons drying by the sink and the ice cream is already in the freezer.”

The sound of cupboards being opened makes Peter turn back around as Wade asks, “Where do you keep your bowls?”

“Don’t try and act classy on me now, just eat it straight from the carton with me.” 

Wade flashes a smile that makes Peter’s knees buckle, and he has to sit back down onto the edge of his bed. This was such a bad idea. 

Wade brings the ice cream over to Peter and even remembers to bring over the fudge and sprinkles. It’s weirdly touching that he didn’t forget. Wade goes back for his own carton before returning and for lack of anywhere else to sit, he settles down on the bed beside Peter. The mattress sags under their joined weight. 

“I still can’t believe you got mint of all flavors.” Peter pours a large amount of fudge on to his ice cream before dumping a quarter of the tub of sprinkles on top to the point where it’s the only thing he can see.

“I don’t understand why you are even bothering with the ice cream.”

Peter shovels a large spoonful into his mouth and mumbles around the bite, “I like the crunch.” A sprinkle goes flying out of his mouth.

“Fuck you’re gross. That’s so hot.” Wade shovels bite after bite into his mouth.

“You’re the gross one.”

“That was never in question.” Wade sticks his tongue out with a huge glob of ice cream melting on it.

Peter scrunches his nose in disgust. “You better not get ice cream on my bed.”

"Do I get a spanking if I do?"

"You get to do my laundry. These are my only clean sheets," Peter deadpans.

Wade actually shuffles so he's sitting on the very edge of the bed and his carton of ice cream hovers over Peter's floor instead. "I didn't come over to do chores."

"Why did you come over?" Peter asks around a mouthful.

"Do you even need to ask that?"

Peter supposes he really doesn't. "You're too sentimental, you sap." Peter lifts a leg and kicks at Wade's side.

Only Wade easily snatches it up, his large hands wrapping around Peter's bare ankle. It's weird to have skin on skin contact. Usually Peter has a layer of spandex to protect him. He's very aware of just how much of himself is on display and wonders if Wade is tempted to touch any more of it or even if he will.

Wade sets his ice cream down on the ground before reaching out and taking Peter's with a slow but deliberate motion and doing the same with it. Peter wonders why he doesn’t stop him. Why he lets Wade grab his thigh and drag him across the bed. He tumbles back and just barely catches himself with his elbows, his eyes wide with shock. 

“You look like you could work at Hooters in this outfit.” Wade clutches the inner part of Peter’s thighs and pushes them open so he can slot himself between them.

It’s a challenge for Peter to remember to breathe. “You need boobs to work at Hooters.”

Wade tilts his head like he’s thinking. “I thought you needed to be able to imitate an owl.” Wade proceeds to make alarmingly accurate owl calls as he bends down to mouth at Peter’s abs. He hasn’t let go of Peter’s thighs, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into the flesh. 

It’s honestly the most confused Peter’s ever been — that’s counting the time he woke up with spider powers. 

“Wade,” Peter chokes out, unable to think of something better to say. “ Wade.”

“I know, sweetums.” Wade bites at the hem of Peter’s shirt and lifts it higher up until Peter’s nipples are exposed. He latches onto one, suckling and nibbling at the bud, making Peter cry out. 

Not knowing what to do with his hands or if he wants to push Wade away or keep him close, he settles with them above his head. He twists the sheets over and over, the sound of ripping fabric not even registering as something he’s causing. Wade’s mouth is the only thing he cares about. 

“ Wade .” Peter hiccups out a sob. He’s aching in his shorts and he just wants . 

Wade pops off with a wicked grin. “You ready to get this party started?”. He unbuttons Peter’s shorts and tugs them down. He’s in complete disbelief as he asks, “Jockstrap?”

“Shut up, it looks weird if I wear anything else under the suit.”

“I wasn’t teasing, trust me.” Wade pulls Peter’s shorts off the rest of the way, flinging them back over his shoulder. He rubs his palm along the curve of Peter’s cock through the stretched material. “I want to watch you soak this.”

Peter can’t help but thrust up into Wade’s hand with a whimper. It’s not going to take much for him to fulfill Wade’s wish.

“What do you think about when you do this to yourself?” Wade asks. 

Peter recalls the last time he jerked off, the filter of what he should admit to completely gone. “You have really big fingers.”

Wade falters, his body going rigid. “ My fingers?”

“I use two and pretend it’s one of yours.”

“Lucky for you I brought my fingers today! You must have lube if you do that. Where do you keep it?”

Peter sobers up for a moment and realizes just what exactly he admitted to. He gives a nervous laugh and quickly takes a peak at his pillow wanting to make sure nothing is visible. “What lube?”

With lightning speed, Wade throws himself across the bed, flattening Peter in the process and digs around under the pillow. He makes a little victory, “Ah ha!” and holds his prize up over his head. “No lube, he says.”

Peter throws himself at the bottle, curling his entire body around Wade’s hand as he tries to pry it open. “It’s not, just give it back.”

“Come on, I thought you wanted to see what it felt like to have my fat sausage fingers poking between your buns.”

Peter let’s go of Wade’s hand and rolls over to flop onto the bed. “I can’t believe I’m letting you convince me with that. Seriously.” Peter groans his frustration, upset that he managed to stay hard through all of that. 

The bed jiggles as Wade does a happy little bounce. “I’m going to stretch you so wide I’ll be able to fit my whole hand up there. Gonna make you my puppet,” Wade giggles out, and it’s enough to earn him another kick to the shin.

“If you go above — ” Peter glances down at Wade’s hands and swallows at the sight —  “three fingers, you’re getting tossed out the window.”

“You’re going to be begging for something different after two .” He says the words with all the confidence he normally has when he promises to end someone’s life. He grabs Peter’s ankle and pulls him right up into his lap with one swift yank. Wade keeps hold of his ankle and pushes it back towards Peter's chest, bending his knee. Once he has Peter the way he wants, he lets go with the command, “keep that there.”

Peter can only nod, his throat having gone dry. He can’t look away from the sight of Wade uncapping the lube and slicking his fingers up. Despite the air conditioner, he feels hot and clammy. That first touch of a finger along his rim makes him jerk and throw his head back. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays to whoever is listening that he doesn’t make a fool of himself. 

Wade’s fingers keep circling and rubbing at his rim, and Peter’s trying his best not to bite hard enough into his lip to draw blood. He keeps thinking Wade will push in at any second, and yet it just keeps going like that. 

He takes a deep shaky breath before pleading, “ Wade .”

Stretching up to Peter, Wade captures his lips in a soft chaste kiss that feels at odds with what they are about to do. “Gonna open you up like a pudding cup,” Wade sing songs just before he pushes inside Peter. 

Peter would object to Wade’s choice of words, only he is too busy dealing with the sensation of Wade’s finger wiggling around inside him and pushing ever so slowly deeper. He thought he’d had a good idea of how large Wade’s fingers are and what they would feel like; he was woefully unprepared. It’s not like he hasn’t been stretched wider than he currently is, there just was more of an adjustment period. 

He squirms around like he can’t decide between pulling away and asking for more. The decision is made for him as Wade gets his finger in down to the last knuckle. There is no time to get used to it before Wade is fucking his finger in and out at a rough pace. It only takes a few passes before Wade is pressing down on Peter’s prostate in such a way that it makes Peter keen and pant for more. He wants so much more. His thighs fall further apart of their own volition. He’s all too aware of his jockstrap keeping his cock contained. He needs it to be free but he also can’t make any coherent thought to voice the need because bit by bit Wade is pushing in a second finger. 

Wade goes slower this time and gives Peter a chance to stretch out around them. It takes Peter a second to realize the words Wade is mumbling are the lyrics to Bootylicious.

Peter chokes on a laugh, and Wade just looks at him with a vicious smile and returns to the rough pace of fucking his fingers into Peter. 

Peter is chanting Wade’s name like a prayer hoping against hope that Wade will understand what he wants. Instead, Wade stops and pulls his fingers free, leaving Peter feeling empty. 

“It’s no fair you get to have all this fun with my name, baby cakes. Give daddy a name to chant too and maybe you’ll get the real deal.”

Peter blinks, surprised to find tears. He can feel the length of Wade’s cock pressing against his thigh. He wants it. 

“Peter.”

Wade coos in delight. “Peter, how many people have fucked you knowing how much you can handle?”

It’s an easy answer, but Peter is still afraid to give it. “None.”

Wade sits back so he can pull off his shirt, Peter greatly appreciates the sight, before grabbing the lube. He tugs at Peter’s rim with his thumb to open it back up so he can pour it straight in. “Bet this ass could handle the hulk pounding it, but you’ll have to make do with me. Itadakimasu!” 

Wade lines himself up and pushes into Peter with a force that makes him arch off the bed and curse the day Wade was born. Wade only laughs, bracing his hands on either side of Peter’s hips and rocking in and out. Peter’s head spins as he tries to adjust. He feels full in a way he didn’t know he could. Before this moment, he wouldn’t have thought he could take something of Wade’s size, never mind with the force Wade is using. It’s too much too fast, and it leaves Peter feeling nauseous. He’d have kicked Wade off if he wasn’t so disoriented. 

Only it soon turns to pleasure in a way that feels forced as Wade manages to hit his prostate over and over. Peter doesn’t know where to concentrate as Wade possessively bites down along his neck. If he could get away with it, Peter doesn’t doubt he would sign his work across Peter with permanent marker. 

Peter’s toes are curling, and he’s surprised at how close he is to coming already. The bed shakes and Peter’s shocked to find the view of his ceiling changing as the box spring slides off the milk crates it sits on. The top off the mattress tips, and they end up sliding down onto the floor. 

A boisterous laugh comes from Wade who doesn’t even give Peter a moment to catch his breath before he’s fucking into him again. He wraps his arms around Peter’s waist tightly, pulling Peter’s body into his own with every thrust. He kisses Peter with a force that makes it hard to breathe. 

He sobs as he comes in his jockstrap, his body quickly feeling over sensitized as Wade continues. 

“Fuck, I can feel the mess you made. I made you do that. Fuck.” Wade tenses, his thrusts going quick and shallow before stopping. He collapses on top of Peter and nuzzles his face into Peter’s neck. 

Peter’s legs are high up in the air, his back on the floor while his ass is still on the mattress. The whole situation feels ridiculous, and he can’t help but giggle at it. “You wrecked my bed.”

“I sure did, Peter. ” Wade purrs, pressing soft kisses to Peter’s neck. “I was aiming to wreck you, though? How’d I do?”

“What? You want a report card?”

“Maybe just a gold sticker.”

“I’m fresh out, the best I can do is a thumbs up.” Which Peter quickly provides. 

“I’ll take it,” Wade says with a small smile before leaning in for another kiss. It's the sort of soft kiss that has a million words behind it, each one a declaration of love and unending adoration.

It's the sort of kiss that shatters people's worlds apart, and Peter is no exception. The reality of what he just did and with who comes crashing down on him. He inhales sharply and pushes at Wade's chest. He's disappointed in himself for forgetting that Wade loved him. This was not just fooling around to him. 

He can’t believe he let himself get so carried away.

"I should clean up this mess." Peter's voice shakes. He can't look Wade on the eye. "You don't have to stick around to help."

All the joy disappears from Wade's face. "You're kicking me out?"

Peter pushes at Wade again. This time, Wade actually goes and finally pulls himself out of Peter. Shifting to a sitting position, Peter can feel gravity doing its job as cum and lube leak out and down his thigh. He hates how empty he feels.

"You hate cleaning up, so it just seems like the best idea." Peter winces at how weak his argument sounds. 

“And you’re already tossing out the trash. I get it. It’s fine.” The look on Wade’s face says that it is anything but. Wade tugs up his pants and grabs his shirt off the ground. 

Peter’s voice goes up an octave as the panic starts to set in. “Wade, you’re not trash.” 

“Then what am I?” Wade seethes, the seam around the collar of his shirt tears as he tugs it on with too much force. “What’s so wrong with me that you can stand to be around me all the time and fuck me but not — ” Wade’s words break off into a wounded sound. 

Mind going blank, Peter tries to think of anything to say. The truth feels too harsh. Their eyes lock for a moment, the distance between them feeling greater than the small apartment allows. 

Wade’s the first to look away, sounding broken as he says, “I’ll get going. You’ve got a mess to clean up after all. It was nice while it lasted.” Wade gives a hollow sounding laugh before walking out the door and slamming it behind himself, the walls shaking with the force of it. A photo frame falls and shatters on the floor. Peter can hear his laughter echoing down the hallway. 

Peter looks around his shitty apartment, running a hand through his hair. He quietly mutters to himself, “I’m the one that’s trash.” 

The ice cream was knocked over and is melting across the floor. Peter doesn’t even make a move to clean it up, he just heads to the bathroom to take a shower and try and get the feeling of Wade off his skin so he can forget. Not that he will if he’s to believe his reflection in the mirror. Wade really marked his territory. 

There are bruises on Peter’s hips in the shapes of Wade’s fingers that Peter can’t help but press down on. They sting in a way that makes Peter hiss and wish for more. 

He wants so much more, his reflection taunting him with the fact that he won’t get it. 

He lashes out, his fist shattering the mirror and breaking his image into thousands. There is blood spreading across his knuckles, slowly dripping down the back of his hand.

He feels like such a fool.

The shower is quick, Peter going through the motions as his mind replays the look Wade gave him over and over. He caused that.

He hurt Wade.

Knowing he can’t leave things like that with Wade, he decides to go after him. He just needs to explain himself so he can salvage what is left of their friendship. He hopes there is something left to salvage. 

It takes him seconds to get dressed, he barely remembers to grab his keys before running out the door. He smacks straight into Wade’s chest. Peter can’t believe Wade came back. He glances up at Wade’s face, surprised to see tears running down his cheeks.

He has a million questions but can only manage to ask, “Wade?” 

Wade grabs Peter’s hair and pulls his head back as his mouth descends on Peter’s. His kiss is hot and insistent, demanding things Peter can’t promise. He walks Peter backwards into the apartment, pulling the door closed as he does. 

“I know you want me, I just know it,” Wade whispers against Peter’s lips, giving away just how badly he is trembling. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Just let me stay.”

Peter’s breath hitches. “I wish I was so selfish to allow that.”

“Be selfish then, please. I’m begging.”

It takes great effort for Peter to step away from Wade, but he can’t be tempted into another kiss if he’s going to say this. “What will you do when I die?”

The question seems to throw Wade, his face scrunching up in confusion. “When you die?”

“Can you promise me you won’t kill the person who did it? That you won’t burn this city to the ground in your grief?”

“I — ” Wade tries to get closer, but Peter takes another step back. 

“I get a paper cut and you threaten to take down the manufacturer.”

“It’s only because I love you.”

“You cut off Kraven’s hand because he punched me! You can’t do that.”

“He did more than just punch you, and you know it!”

“You don’t get to make that call!” Peter shouts, tugging at his hair. He wants to scream. This isn’t fair.

“What if it’s too late? I’m already going to destroy the world when you’re gone because there won’t be any point to it without you here so we might as well be together.”

“ Wade .” Peter flinches back, horrified that what Wade just said could be true. “Don’t you know that’s the last thing I would ever want?”

“What will it take? Do I need to promise to lay down my swords for the rest of eternity? Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll cut my heart out of my chest and serve it to you on a platter if you want to get Hannibal with it.”

Peter doesn’t doubt that Wade would. He gives a nervous laugh as he rolls his eyes. “Please, do you know how hard it is to clean up blood?” 

“Baby, you know I don’t clean.” 

“Maybe that’s the problem. You don’t know how to clean up your act. If that’s even possible.”

Wade grabs Peter’s hip, pulling him into his own body so he can grind their crotches together. He gives a low growl that makes Peter shiver. “You seemed to like how dirty I am an hour ago.”

Peter’s eyes flutter shut. He hates how much he wants Wade to keep doing what he is. He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for when he says, “ Wade. ”

“It could just be like this, no strings,” Wade whispers desperately, like he’s seconds away from a breakdown.

"Then why do you sound like the time you watched the Notebook on repeat?"

Wade lets go of Peter and takes a step back, his breathing uneven. “But you want me.”

“We work better as friends.”

“How can you even say that after that way we just fucked?” Wade fumes, he clenches his hands into fists. 

“I just want to be friends.” Peter doesn’t even sound convincing to himself.

“Maybe I don’t think I can be friends now that I know how it feels to have you clenching around me. Now that I’ve heard what you sound like as you come. I can’t go back now. I can’t go back to pretending you’re something I can never have.”

“ Wade ,” Peter pleads, feeling small and lost.

“I can’t .”

“Please don’t go.” Peter does his best not to let the tears welling up in his eyes drop. 

Wade nods his head in jerky movements before awkwardly turning and walking out the door. This time he quietly shuts it. 

Legs going weak, Peter crumples to the floor. The tears in his eyes finally falling freely. He kicks out a leg at the wall, the plaster easily giving way and creating a hole. Which pretty much means he definitely won’t be getting any of his security deposit back, so he kicks it again. 

And again.

“Fuck .”

This is why he has never said anything. 

Now Wade was gone, maybe for good this time. There’s an ache in his chest like he’s being torn in half.

Gone .

Peter sits there on the floor until the tears on his cheeks have dried up, and the sunlight filtering in through the window has gone orange. Soon that will be gone too.

He should be wiggling into his suit and heading out for the night, but he can’t get the energy to get up from the floor. The thing that finally gets him to move is his bladder demanding to be emptied. Even as horrible as Peter feels he doesn’t think he’s at the point where he would piss himself. 

The shuffle to the bathroom feels like it takes an eternity. His bladder thanks him though when he finally makes it. Now that he’s standing it should be easier to get something accomplished, only it feels just as challenging. Peter manages to make it over to his bed, side stepping the ice cream on the floor, and falls face first into the middle of it. 

The only sound in the apartment is the soft hum of the AC. Even though it’s never bothered him before, now it sounds as if it’s screaming at him. 

Wailing over how Peter broke both their hearts. 

Peter grabs a pillow and brings it down over his head to muffle the sound. It doesn’t help, the sound of the AC is all he hears. 

He listens to it until he can’t anymore and jumps up from the bed. He pulls the plug from the wall, the AC finally going quiet. 

The only sound remaining is his own haggard breathing. He feels crazed. This wasn’t how his day was supposed to go. 

He just wanted ice cream. 

Despite the fact that the unit is unplugged, Peter feels like he can still hear it. He can’t keep it. 

He dismantles the AC from the window and collects all the pieces. He finally puts on his Spider-Man suit and webs up the AC before heading out the window with it. He heads straight for Wade’s apartment, taking the shortest route he knows. He has no idea what time it is, but the moon is high in the sky so it must be late. He hopes Wade isn’t home. 

Though he knows the chances of that are slim.

When he gets to Wade’s apartment building, Peter lurks around on the rooftop unable to make himself go down to his window. He remembers the cameras hidden around and decides to stop acting foolish (but only because Wade can see it). Going to the edge of the roof, he lowers the AC unit down in front of the window and hopes Wade will notice it. He swings it lightly, making it clink against the glass. 

Nothing. 

Which means Wade is ignoring him or isn’t actually home. Peter would just leave the AC hanging, but he has no idea when Wade is going to be home and the webbing could dissolve. He doesn’t want to be responsible for it falling on to someone’s head. 

That’s one mistake he only needs to make once.

He crawls down along the wall until he’s close enough to peek inside to double check that Wade is awol. Peter lets out a sigh of relief at the empty apartment and pushes open the window. He’s just easing the AC inside when someone hollers below and tosses something into the dumpster from a distance, whatever it is clangs against the side loudly. They toss more, not seeming to care about the noise they are creating. Peter hopes it doesn’t draw unwanted attention into the alley, it’s the last thing he needs. 

Whoever they are seems to be in a great amount of distress, every sound they make filled with anguish and rage. It’s hard to listen to without doing something to help.

They don’t seem to notice Spider-Man though, so Peter keeps pushing the AC into Wade’s. It topples inside with a thump loud enough to make Peter wince. It would be awful if he brought it all this way just to break it.

The sound attracts the attention of the man below, though Peter doesn’t know how he can hear anything over the racket he’s creating. 

Their eyes lock, and all the noise from the city vanishes. 

Wade. 

Shit .

He’s standing there, dressed in a set of navy blue pajamas that you would expect only the elderly to have enough fashion sense to purchase, and a unicorn hat that would be more at home on a twelve year old girl. It’s an interesting combo.

Peter’s the first to look away, unable to deal with those piercing blue eyes on him. He shouts down, “I’m just returning your AC.”

Wade doesn’t give a response, he just goes back to chucking things into the dumpster. There’s a little more force to his actions, the objects bouncing around inside when they land. It takes Peter a moment to register what Wade is getting rid of, but when it clicks he’s horrified .

He drops down to the ground, ignoring the fact that he’s supposed to feel awkward around Wade. “You’re throwing out your weapons ? But you love your guns!”

Grunting instead of responding, Wade tosses another gun. When he picks up another to throw, Peter grabs at the gun to stop him. They both tug at the weapon, neither letting go.

“Why are you throwing away your stuff?”

“You said I was too violent!” Wade bellows. “That I needed to clean up my act. Well, here I am! Cleaning!”

Peter is stunned. He never thought Wade would actually listen to him. The fact that Wade is trying means so much. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just repeats, “But you love your guns.”

Wade lets go, making Peter stumble back with it. “But I love you more.”

The easy way that Wade says those words makes Peter’s heart pound. How can Wade be so sure? “You didn’t have to throw them out for that.” 

“What else could I do to make you see that I can change?”

“We’ll figure something out, just don’t throw your guns away.”

“Are you kidding me?” Wade groans. “I threw Betsy in there, now I’m going to have to go in there to get her out.”

Wade scrambles over to the side of the dumpster and tumbles inside. He disappears from view. Guns fly out of it and onto the ground, the sound of them clattering against the pavement like a heavy rainfall has Peter second guessing if maybe Wade couldn’t stand to get rid of some. There is a lot of artillery. 

Still, he can’t just let Wade dispose of it where just anyone could come across them. Someone’s got to think of these things. That’s how Peter finds himself climbing into a dumpster in the middle of night to fish out handguns, a pair of nunchucks, and a flamethrower. He doesn’t want to know why Wade owns the last one.

He’s knee deep in trash bags and doing his best not to think about their contents or break any of them open. The smell leaves him feeling dizzy enough without that happening. Wade seems a little too comfortable inside a dumpster, and Peter suspects it’s not his first time. 

Wade happens to find a pizza box, and upon opening it finds that there are still a couple slices left inside. “Score!” Wade exclaims, making a grab for one of them.

Peter slaps it out of Wade’s hands. “How can you even think about eating garbage pizza.”

“It was perfectly fine! It was in a box , that protected it from all the gross garbage.”

“You don’t know how long it’s been in here, you shouldn’t eat pizza that’s been sitting out for days. That’s gross .” 

“I eat pizza that’s been sitting out for days all the time and I’ve always been fine.”

Peter stares back at him blankly. “When have you ever been fine?”

“Hey , cheap shot.”

They grin at each other, it’s alarming how easy it is to slip back into bantering together, like nothing happened before. 

But it did happen, and the smiles fade from both their faces quickly enough. They go back to digging through the garbage in silence, unsure of where they stand with each other.

The wail of a siren steadily growing closer breaks through their unvoiced truce. They both look up to watch the lights of a firetruck blur past the opening of the alley.

“Shit,” Peter mutters as he hops out of the trash. “That’s my cue to go.” 

Looking back before swinging off, Peter finds an unreadable expression on Wade’s face. For a brief moment he thinks Wade will ask him not to go, but he just gives a small wave with his hand in the direction the firetruck went like he’s telling Peter to get a move on it already.

Going as fast as he can, Peter follows the sound of the truck. It’s not hard to guess where it’s going, a large black plume of smoke clearly marks its destination. 

How could a fire be so far along already to be creating such a thing? It blocks out most of the sky. The smell of ash is heavy in the air.

Peter hopes there is no one left inside, especially when the building finally comes into view. Scorching flames consume the bottom half of the building, it hurts to look upon with how bright it is. The fire is steadily eating its way up to the top, it won’t be long before the whole thing is gone. It has a strong enough hold that the only choice is to let the whole thing burn down to the ground. The most anyone can do at this point is make sure the buildings around it don’t catch on fire. 

There are already two fire trucks parked, the people on them hard at work. Peter can hear more on the way, and he hopes they make it in time. There is a crowd of onlookers huddled together on the street, hopefully some of them are people who have already escaped from the building.

It would be tough for the firefighters to get everyone left inside and keep the fire contained at the same time. They are putting ladders up along the side, climbing to the parts of the building where people could still be alive. There are people on the highest floors waving out of their windows for help. 

Without any hesitation, Peter flings himself to the side of the building. Even the outside of it is unbearably hot. He hastily scoops up the people from the top floors and gets them down to the ground. No one has time to thank him, he just gets back to work instantly. 

He would never be able to forgive himself if he didn’t get everyone he could. 

Once he has gotten everyone standing at the windows, he begins to search inside the building. He helps the people he finds who really need it and tells the rest to make their way to where the ladders are set up. He can’t believe how many people are still inside their apartments trying to pack things. Peter does what he can, searching everywhere, but the heat and smoke are beginning to take a toll on him, his lungs revolting from the treatment with hacking coughs. 

To think he thought this summer had been hot, but like most things in life, he eventually learns he knew nothing at all. He wouldn’t be surprised if he came out of this experience extra crispy. It’s a challenge to make himself go back inside the building every time he exits. The smoke is blurring his vision, and it make his head dizzy even with his mask on. He knows he can’t give up though, not while there is a chance there could still be people inside.

Calling out as he flings himself down hallway after hallway, he bangs on every door. Breaking down the ones that are locked. He just starts to feel confident that he’s gotten everyone as a woman comes frantically running down the hallway. She’s screaming out names, tears running down her face. 

“You have to help me find my children!” She shrieks in hysterics, grabbing at the front of Peter’s suit. “They ran off, they’re so little. Please. They’ve got to be so scared.” 

“I’ll keep looking, but you have to get yourself out of here.” Peter begs, doing his best to push her towards the direction of where the firefighters are. “I won’t give up on them, I promise.”

“I’m not leaving without my children.” She has a crazed look in her eyes, the kind only a parent can have. 

Peter could forcefully pick her up to get her out, but there isn’t much time left. They need all the time they can to find them. “I’ll help search, where haven’t you looked yet?” 

The relief she expresses is short lived, and they rush off down the hallway. It doesn’t matter where they look though. The children are nowhere to be found, and Peter begins to fear the worst.

They come to the stairwell, the only place Peter hasn’t been is the next floor down. 

Where the fire has already spread. 

“It will be faster if I go by myself,” He tells her, pushing her back. “Please get out while you have a chance.”

She shakes her head, coughing from the smoke, it’s gotten so thick. Peter can see the determination in her eyes. 

Opening the door to the next floor feels more like opening the oven, a blast of heat right to his front. It doesn’t give Peter much hope for the children, but he takes a step inside all the same. The stench of the smoke, the way his whole body fights him on continuing on down the hallways, makes Peter certain he will never look at fire the same way again. 

Doing his best to listen for the cries of the children, Peter sets out at a punishing pace. It’s hard to see far ahead down the hallway, but he almost thinks he sees someone. 

It makes sense that the firefighters might be searching this level, but as he gets closer he doesn’t notice any gear on them.

Just a set of pj’s blackened and singed, barely hanging off their frame anymore. The kids are bundled up against his chest.

“ Wade ?” 

“Couldn’t let you do this alone,” Wade says with a grin. He passes over the children into Peter’s open arms. “Get these kids out of here, alright?”

All Peter can do is nod. He wants to grab Wade so he can get him out of there now, but the children come first. 

So he turns and runs. 

He runs as fast as his legs will go, afraid for the lives he holds. He uses his body to shield them the best he can, not wanting to let them down. They tremble against his chest. He needs them to be alright, but he doesn’t know how long they were down there. 

He doesn’t breathe until he’s back at the stairs. 

Their mother rushes forward, and she wraps them all up in a hug while she sobs. Which unfortunately isn’t something they have the time for. Peter nudges her away, and sets off to find a window they can all climb out of. They come across a firefighter that helps the mother climb out the window and down the ladder they have set up. 

Holding the kids tightly, Peter jumps down to the ground. He passes them off to a paramedic who starts treating them right away. The sight is a huge relief to see, Peter thinks they’re going to be alright. Wade must have found them quickly, they hardly have any burns on them. 

Turning back to the building to go back for Wade, Peter finds he doesn’t have to look far. He’s at the window passing cats to the firefighters, the ones that will let go of him that is. There are two that have the claws dug in so deep they’re probably never coming off. To Peter’s surprise, all it takes is a few soft words from Wade, and they do just that. Once the last of the cats are handed over, Wade disappears back into the building. 

Jumping up to the window and slipping past the firefighters, Peter follows. The smoke is so bad now that he can hardly see past it. It’s probably only a matter of minutes before this floor gets engulfed in flames as well. 

“Wade, everyone is out. You don’t need to stay in here.”

Wade blinks in surprise. Parts of his skin are black, so deeply burned that they haven’t healed yet. “It doesn’t hurt to keep looking, maybe I’ll find a goldfish in need of saving. You should go though, you can’t come back from the dead like me.”

Peter grabs Wade’s wrist and refuses to let go. “Wade, please, we have to go.”

“No my sweet Petey. You have to go.” Wade shoves Peter’s shoulder. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and get the ugly burned off while I’m in here.”

Peter gives one last tug to try and get Wade to move before giving up. He drops Wade’s wrist and takes a step back. He wants to stay and help Wade, but his lungs already feel like they are going to give out. He could easily force that matter, just pick Wade up and drag him out. There is a look of determination in Wade’s eyes, one that Peter doesn’t want to fight against. Wade can do some good. 

With great effort, he forces himself to turn around to leave Wade. He moves to the very top floor and searches until he can’t handle the smoke. It feels like admitting defeat when he decides to leave. He swings over to a building across the street so he can keep a  lookout for Wade, hoping he manages to get out.

The fire burns on. 

Peter watches for Wade in the windows, but inside the building has become an inferno and nothing else is visible. Flames consume everything, and when they are done with that, they reach out of the building and up into the sky. If allowed, they would burn the whole city to the ground. A hunger that can not be satiated. 

As if the universe was trying to answer Peter’s unasked plea, lightning flashes through the smoke and a crack of thunder following quickly after. For the first time in weeks, the sky opens up, and rain pours down hard, hitting the pavement like a drum. It’s deafening. 

Taking his mask off, Peter tilts his head back. He lets it wash the smell of smoke from him— lets it take away his fear and his doubt. The world has a way of balancing things, and Peter wants to put more faith in that. 

Wants to put more faith in Wade because right now, the only thing that matters to him is that Wade walks out of that building. The Wade who came to help Peter without being asked and stayed behind to look for lost pets. 

The man he loves. He wants Wade in his life. Everything else can be worked on because deep down Peter knows Wade has a good, kind heart. 

Even if sometimes he makes questionable choices. 

The downpour does nothing to stop the fire from raging, but it halts the spread which is the most they could have hoped for in the situation. Peter spends so much time watching the top of the building it takes him a moment to register the commotion at the bottom. Everyone is making way for the charred, husk of a thing shambling out of the building and into the street. Despite the fact that it bears no resemblance to Wade, Peter knows it is him. 

It takes a great deal of effort to get his soaked mask back over his head, the fabric clinging together. Once it’s most of the way on, he jumps down to the street where Wade has already collapsed on the pavement. The rain is making his skin snap and hiss. There are fissures along his skin where it is breaking open to reveal the red flesh underneath all the charcoal. 

A sane person would lose their stomach at the sight, but Peter only sees Wade. He does his best to be gentle as he scoops him up into his arms. He doesn’t think Wade can hear him, but he still whispers, “Let’s get you home, huh?” 

No one tries to stop Peter from taking Wade or question where they are going. With the state Wade is in, it would hurt too much to swing or jump around. So Peter walks, doing his best to ignore the way people gawk at them.

Every few minutes there is a soft whimper from Wade, letting Peter know that he hasn’t kicked the bucket. Peter doesn’t know if it would be better if Wade did die so he could regenerate without the pain. 

For Wade, Peter would be willing to do that for him. It’s a thought that scares him.

Climbing up the side of Wade’s building is a little tricky, Peter has to throw Wade over his shoulder so he has one hand free. He feels horrible about the agony he must cause with the move, but even more so when he tries to climb into the window. He bumps Wade against the window sill, making him cry out and try to twist away from Peter. 

“I’m so sorry,” Peter pleads over and over, hoping that Wade understands. He settles Wade back in his arms and carries him into the bedroom. He haphazardly tosses down a towel he finds hanging on the doorknob onto the bed before laying Wade down. Peter pulls off his waterlogged suit and settles down next to him. He pulls the blankets up over the both of them. Wanting to let Wade know he is there, he takes his well-cooked hand tenderly into his own. He wishes there was more he could do to help.

The stress of the day catches up to him, and before Peter knows it, his eyes are fluttering closed. He dreams of smoke filled kisses and the taste of ash in his mouth. There is an open grave, the grass around it yellow and trampled down. He can’t read the tombstone because it’s so weathered. Looking down into the open hole, he sees countless hands reaching out for him from the dark, wanting to drag him into the deep.  

He startles awake, his eyes flying open. His breathing is fast, and it takes him a second to remember where he is. The sight of Wade’s blue eyes looking back at him calms him down. Wade’s cracked lips form a small smile. He’s mostly healed with just a few red spots left. 

“What are you doing here?” Wade croaks. 

“I didn’t want to leave you.” Peter confesses, taking Wade’s hand back into his own and squeezing. He must have let go in his sleep. 

“And now that I’m awake?”

Peter scootches across the bed so their noses are almost touching. “I still don’t want to go.”

Wade takes a sharp inhale before whispering, “And tomorrow?”

“I will still want to be here.”

“What about the day after that?”

Peter sits back and taps at his chin as if in thought. “I think that’s one day too many,” Peter mocks before shoving Wade’s shoulder. “I want to be here for all the days. I’m greedy like that.”

The news does anything but make Wade happy, his face turning sour. “Nothing has changed. I’m still a killer.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Peter proclaims, cupping at the side of Wade’s jaw. “I think you kill because you don’t know what else to do. I watched you today as you saved lives, and I think you have a good noble heart. I think you love this world just as much as I do and are going to take good care of it for me after I’m gone.” Peter presses a soft kiss to the end of Wade’s nose. 

Wade’s eyes go crossed as he tries to track Peter's lips. “You’ve been hanging out with me too long if you’re willing to fight this dirty.”

Peter grins wide and presses another to Wade’s forehead, then each of his cheeks. “So what do you say, want to give being the good guy a try?”

“I don’t know how you can look at someone like me and think I’m capable of anything good.” Wade mutters in a hushed tone, turning his face away. “What happens if I let you down?”

Fingers placed on Wade’s chin, Peter turns his face back so they are looking at each other again. “I’m not expecting some big change. We’ll take it one day at a time. Together.”

“You really think I’m capable of being enough for someone like you? That I can reign in my anger everytime something happens to you? Everytime someone hurts you?”

“I do,” Peter whispers as he brushes his lips against Wade’s. “I think you’re the greatest man I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think there was a chance that you’re it for me.”

“I’m it, huh?” 

Peter rolls his eyes and groans. “You’re going to use that against me, aren’t you?”

“All the time ,” Wade promises, grinning slyly as he tugs Peter flush against him. 

Wade’s mouth crashes down on him, hot and heady. It makes Peter’s head spin, how could he have ever doubted that he didn’t belong with Wade? 

“You’re it for me too, you know,” Wade breathes between kisses. “I’ll never love anyone like I love you. It’s why I can’t stand the thought of a world without you. You’re everything to me.”

Pressing one last kiss, Peter pulls back from Wade. “It’s why I trust you to look after everything I cherish.”

Wade runs his thumb along Peter’s bottom lip, transfixed as he tugs it down. “You make me feel like I could be the next Queen of England. I don’t think there is anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

“That’s a lot of power to give someone, your highness .” 

“I would look so good in a crown Instead of corgis I’m going to have sharks running around everywhere.” 

“Sharks don’t run.”

“Mine do.”

Peter snickers at the thought. “Long live the Queen then.”

Going serious, Wade presses his forehead to Peter’s. “I know I’m going to disappoint you sometimes, but I promise you I will never stop working towards being the kind of Monarch who deserves a bug like you.”

“Arachnid . Seriously, if we’re going to be together you have to know that a spider is an arachnid,” Peter chides. 

“Bug is a bug .”

Sitting up, Peter leans over and pinches Wade’s cheek hard. He howls in pain and jumps back, right off the bed, and lands on his ass. 

“Why’d you do that?” Wade says, rubbing at the side of his face. 

Peter cocks an eyebrow and leans over the side of the bed to smirk at Wade. “It’s arachnid, just helping you remember for next time.”

“Whatever you say, Spidey,” Wade coos, fluttering his eyelashes. 

Peter rolls his eyes and offers a hand out to Wade so he can pull him up. Once back on the bed, Wade clambers on top of Peter and flops down, smothering him. Peter can’t breathe with Wade’s pecs in his face, and it’s a struggle to get his head out from under all that mass. 

Moving quickly, Peter flips them over. He plops his butt right in the middle of Wade’s stomach, earning a wheezing omph from Wade, and presses his palms down in the center of his chest to keep him in place. “You’re always asking for it,” Peter sasses.

Wade doesn’t try to fight Peter on their position, he just settles back like he’s got front row seats to the show of the century. He brushes his fingers along Peter’s ankles and up the back of his calves, making Peter shiver from arousal. Every point of contact between them grows hot, and he can’t help but hunger for more. 

“Are we really doing this? The me and you thing?” 

“For as long as you’ll have me,” Peter vows, leaning down to press his lips to Wade’s. It’s a soft kiss, a slow glide of their lips against each other. They have nothing to hurry them along, having all the time in the world to get to know each other.