Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.

Peter swings between a few apartment buildings before flipping in the air towards his intended target. Just before he webs down he hears, "Superhero landing, do the superhero landing!"

He looks up after (admittedly) killing the ‘superhero landing’ to find Deadpool doing the slow clap. "Yesss! It never gets old!"

"I think you need some new material," Peter says.

Deadpool puts his hands on his cheeks, his mask stretching comically wide on his face as he squeals.

"You've been keeping tabs on me? Aw, Spidey, I didn't even know I was on your radar! I bet those spidey-senses tingle extra special when old ‘Pool is around, eh?"

Peter has to bite his lip to keep from grinning; it doesn't matter if Deadpool wouldn't be able to tell, it's the principle of the thing. "What can I say, your reputation precedes you."

Deadpool hums and takes out one of his katanas before swinging it, just because he can, probably. "I definitely excel in word of mouth, that's for sure. And other things that involve mouths (no, you’re right, too sleazy and too soon). That and everyone has an iPhone these days. I swear, Webs, I miss my old Motorola Razr. You probably think that's some fancy blade or something, don't you baby boy?"

Peter’s totally lost the thread of conversation now, and is pretty sure not all of that was even directed toward him. He’d heard from the Avengers that talking to Deadpool often felt like being in a race you had no business running.

He's about to interrupt when Deadpool says, "Aaanyway, big fan, love the suit, had it first and all that jazz."

Peter cocks his head and says, "Pretty sure that's my line." He's talking about the first part of the sentence and steadfastly ignoring the rest because wrong. “Although not directed at you, of course,” he tacks on, because no. He’s definitely not a Deadpool fan and he can’t go giving this guy any false hope.

"Oh, honey, you're gonna need to accept that we'll be sharing the zingers if we’re doing this team-up thing. I mean, we’re likely to be voted Most Witty Masked Couple, after all."

"We're not a couple," Peter frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s pretty sure that wasn’t the important part of that most-recent ramble but -- well -- it’s the only part that made his cheeks heat up, so. Oh, wait. He should’ve objected to the team-up part. Dammit. He was so failing in this ‘don’t give any false hope’ thing.

"Ye-et," Deadpool sing songs. "This is a slash fic, baby, we'll get there. Hey, maybe it'll even be one of those 'E' ones, those are the best.I’m not talking about ‘E’ for effort either, although you know I’d give it my all. Straight up 10’s all the way, totally would land the dismount. Which we already know you can do, by that entrance a minute ago."

Peter rubs at his temple, sighing. He’s not even going to attempt to unpack all that, lest his headache grow even larger. "Look, I just dropped in” -- he ignores Deadpool's delighted giggle at the pun while silently being proud of himself -- “to let you know this city is under my watch and to make sure you wouldn't be killing anyone while you’re here."

"Aww, now why'd you have to go and bring the ‘K’ word into this? We were having a perfectly lovely meet-cute! I envisioned great things for us, sweetums. You, me, rooftop gardens, the finest Mexican food carts New York has to offer."

"Sorry not sorry?"

Deadpool laughs, delighted. "Oh, Spidey, you see how MFEO we are? We’re more than that, we’re like BAMF MFEO. It's kismet, baby!"

When the Avengers had briefed him on Deadpool, they played up the Kills People for Money Has No Real Morals angle and left out the Is Pretty Damn Funny and Charming in a Weird, Terrifying Sort of Way part. Peter stands taller, refusing to get distracted further. He fixes Deadpool with a hard, cold stare that he hopes resonates through the mask. "You kill people for a paycheck, dude. I don't associate myself with those types of BAMFs."

"Au contraire, my Webbed Wonder, I’d say you can't help but be associated with the baddies. I mean, your Rogues Gallery alone is quite the crowded family portrait. A little weak in my opinion. Doc Ock? Come on, baby, you can do better than that. But I digress, even the lustrous other spider-babe (I’m talkin’ bout Black Widow, natch) and her weird Link-like bestie have some shade-eee backstories. Why does no one ever mention that? At least I unalive the people who deserve it."

"I'd love to dissect that piece by piece, I really would, but I think I've wasted enough time here. I said my part, okay? If you're going to be hanging around this city again, I expect you to keep out of trouble."

"What happens if I do? Ooooh, better yet, what happens if I don't?”

"You probably wouldn't like it, you weirdo."

"I wouldn't be so presumptuous, baby boy. As our goddess Rihanna said, stick and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me."

"I'm leaving!" Peter announces loudly, his cheeks burning. He’s probably had another occasion where he was more thankful for his mask, but it doesn’t feel like it right now. "Just don't make me get the Avengers involved, okay? They can be a bit... much."

"Awww, it’s all coming together now! You do love me! You're looking outttt for me. Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!"

"Goodbye, Deadpool!" Peter yells as he swings off the roof.

"The name's Wade! Mr. Wilson if you're nasty!"

"Don't hold your breath on that, Wade!" Peter calls behind him, webbing along the way he came.

Behind him he hears a faint girlish scream. "He said our name, did you hear that! Oh, this is so going in our diary."

Peter feels a smile tug at his lips as he swings away through the mild New York City night. This time, he gives into it.

__________________________________

2.

“How’d it go with Deadpool?” Cap asks him the next day.

Peter shrugs. “Weird? I dunno why you couldn’t just talk to him yourself.”

“It’s about you asserting yourself. You’ve worked with us, what, two years now? Besides, most people consider this your city.”

“I guess,” Peter mumbles, still unsure how he feels about that. “Where’s he been anyway? I mean, I never met him before, that’s kinda weird.”

“Who knows with Deadpool? He’s trouble, kid, with a capital T. The quieter he is, the better. But I figured a preemptive warning was best.”

“Sure,” Peter replies, not entirely convinced. If the dude had been lying low, why ruffle feathers. It seemed -- unnecessary. But whatever. It’s done now, and hopefully Peter doesn’t have to think about the guy again.

Which didn’t explain why he was, or why he found himself patrolling the next few nights hoping to catch the sight of red and black leather.

He isn’t exactly expecting Deadpool to find him, when Peter’s just taking time to watch the sunrise, a peaceful moment after a relatively quiet night. He’s come to really love his city even if it sometimes doesn’t love him back.

Peter’s spidey-senses start to tingle while the person is still on the other side of the roof. He’s about ready to spin and shoot a web at their chest when he hears, “We gotta stop meeting this way, honey. People will talk. And by people I mean the A-team. And by A-team I mean the Avengers. And by talk I mean judge harshly. With the disapproving eyes. And the crossed arms. And the ‘you could do so much better, Spider-Man, what has gotten into you?’ talking to.”

Peter relaxes, and then isn’t sure why he does that, because -- well, Deadpool -- but nevertheless he finds himself leaning back on his hands and turning back toward the skyline. “You’re the one who found me this time, man, why am I the one who gets the imaginary talking to?”

Deadpool shrugs. “You’re the young innocent in this equation.”

Peter snorts. “I’m nearly 20. I’m not that innocent.”

“Okay, Britney. Quit playing games with my heart.”

Peter can’t help the smile this time and really, really hopes Deadpool doesn’t have some sort of X-ray vision that no one knows about. “I think you’re mixing your pop music references.”

“S’how I roll, baby. You falling into the Wade Pool yet? Get it? Wade pool? (Shut up, that was a good one).”

Peter laughs, he can’t help it. “Who’re you talking to, anyway?”

“Boxes. Voices. Remnants of good ‘ole Weapon X’s days and nights of torture. Come on, Spidey, do your Origin Story homework. For shame.”

“Oh,” Peter says, swallowing. He’s not exactly sure where you go from there. It’d probably be a good time to offer up something about himself but, well, this was Deadpool.

“If you take this to a pity place, this party of two is gonna become one, you get me? And not in the way the Spice Girls meant. Sadly.”

“I’m not!” Peter says, indignant. “Also, I love that you’re threatening me with leaving. Who says I even want you here?”

“Aw, baby, you know you can’t quit me.”

Peter turns to him and gives the most skeptical look he can beneath his mask. “Oh yeah? Watch me!”

He uses his web shooters to connect a line to the building across the way and swings over to it. He mounts the landing and turns to Deadpool, pumping his fist in triumph.

Deadpool laughs before wolf-whistling. “I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave!”

“You seriously need better material!” Peter calls out to him, hating his treacherous mouth for smiling once again.

“Come back here and I’ll do better.” He swears he can hear the leer in Deadpool’s voice.

“Not on your life, Wade.”

“He said our name again! Oh, Webs, what you do to me.”

Peter shakes his head, ducking his chin and smiling even wider. He flips Wade off and then swings off the building.

“I’ll bring food next time!” Wade calls after him, and it echoes through the sky.

Peter hates himself for the thrill that goes through him at the words ‘next time.’
______________________________

3.

"Has Deadpool even been up to anything?" Peter asks Tony one night at Avengers tower.

"Not that I’ve heard of," Tony replies absently, not looking up from whatever device he was working on this time. Peter was a wannabe inventor himself, but sometimes with Tony it was better not to know. He preferred to hang in the lab with Bruce.

"Why's he still hanging around then?"

"Beats me, kid. Hand me that socket, huh?"

"’M not your lackey," Peter mumbles.

Tony laughs. "Either make yourself useful or take your pouting elsewhere."

"Not pouting," replies Peter, clearly doing just that. Whatever. He leaves, but only because he was bored as fuck anyway.

He stops a robbery, returns a dog to its owner, and finds himself in the flatiron district, near where he first met Wade.

He's drawn toward the sound someone singing Beyonce's ‘Baby Boy’ (badly), all the while knowing he should just swing in the other direction.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Parker,” he mutters even while picking up speed.

"Baby boy not a day goes by without my fantasy," Wade finishes as Peter touches down.

"Really?" Peter says, hoping he sounds more unimpressed than he feels. He folds his arms over his chest for good measure. That usually works.

“You answer to your theme song! Good to know!” Wade holds up a bag. "I've got food, baby. Bit cold waiting for you. This could be avoided if you'd just give me your digits. And I don't mean your fingers. We can work our way up to that."

"Oh my god," Peter blurts, literally face palming.

Wade laughs in delight and Peter really isn't sure when he became Wade in his head.

"Oh aren't you just precious. C'mon, Spidey, I've got a blanket and everything."

Sure enough, he does. It's got a rainbow unicorn on it but he still has one. And a bottle of wine. Really expensive looking wine.

"Classier than beer, right? But doesn't really go with the burritos. It was a conundrum, Webs, let me tell you."

Peter hates how his stomach flips a little.

Get it together, Parker, a fucking vintage bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon does not make up for the fact that he probably paid for it with blood money.

Peter shakes his head, starts backing away. "I can't do this."

He can see as Deadpool's face falls beneath the mask before it returns to normal, his tone betraying nothing.

"Too fast, eh? Should've started out slow with a can of Coke. Share a Coke with "insert your name here". I'd pick a good one for you. Like Brad. Or Lucas. Hey that was a good movie, Lucas. Sucks about Corey Haim, definitely the superior of the Coreys."

"I can't keep hanging out with you," Peter says, ignoring the ramble. "I'm... an Avenger and you're... I gotta go."

It's the first time Peter leaves that he isn't accosted with Wade's cheerful voice. There's only dead silence and he hates the pit that forms in stomach.

This is Deadpool, the Merc with a Mouth, a guy out for nothing except what can benefit his own interests.

He was told to warn the guy off causing trouble, not become chummy with him. So no more. Peter was going cold turkey.

__________________________________

4.

Cold turkey was easier said than done when you're dealing with a Merc that knows Spider-Man hangs out in Avengers tower sometimes.

That's how Peter finds one of the common area windows spray-painted with a sad face, a poor drawing of what is probably supposed to be the two of them, and a phone number with the words ‘call me maybe’ beneath it.

"Something you wanna tell us, Spidey?" Natasha says with a knowing look and God, he really hopes S.H.I.E.L.D. hasn't been surveying his and Wade's rooftop rendezvous. He feels like he absolutely would've heard about it if they had been.

"Nope, nothing to tell here, everything is peachy keen," Peter says in a rush. He scrubs at the window before the Captain can see it, but not before memorizing the number.

Peter debates and debates and debates some more until he finds himself opening a message and typing out

Hey. Give me one reason I should talk to you.

The little typing dots appear on his phone automatically. So Wade does have an iPhone. That seems weird after the comment, but whatever.

This could be any number of people, including a celeb I'm not allowed to mention for NDA reasons but imma put my money on a certain web head with a great butt.

(And I don't mean Black Widow)

Peter grins despite himself. If I say “got it in one” I sound conceited don't I? Ah, well.

Own that butt, baby, it's a good butt. One might even say the stuff dreams are made of.

"Jesus Christ," Peter mutters, cheeks burning. He hides his face in his pillow for a second before clearing his throat. "Focus, Parker."

Answer the question, deadpool.

"Deadpool, that's good. Better than Wade. And now you're talking to yourself, Jesus Christ it must rub off."

Peter refuses to voice the double entendre his running monologue clearly calls for, even in his own head.

Ah, the question, yes. Would "because I've been drowning in 90s pop ballads since our tragic rooftop departure" suffice?

He won't laugh, he won't laugh. Try again. You don't get points for being a masochist.

Ouch. I'll have you know the wind beneath our wings is one of the greatest songs of our time. Although that's actually late 80s but whatever it was still super popular in the 90s. Did you ever know that you're my hero, Spidey?

Peter snorts (god dammit) and waits him out.

Alright alright. How's "because I haven't even killed anyone since before I got back here" sound?

Peter chews on his lip, tamping down the nervous flutter of his pulse .

is it the truth?

He doesn’t know why his heart feels like it’s in his throat. Since when does he care what this guy does and doesn’t do? He barely knows him. Well. He always cares about people not dying, but still.

Sir yes sir but not like I can do much to prove it you sweet cheeks.

Peter sighs, dragging a hand through his hair.

why are you back in town after so long? A-team figured it was for a job

He stares at those stupid typing dots like they hold the answers to the universe.

(the very fact that you called them the a-team is why ur my fav spidey) no not a job. Would you believe i was hoping to join that gang? Got a little visit from you before i could ask to apply for a membership card tho

Peter blinks, mouth dropping open. He tosses his phone aside, mind reeling. Deadpool. Wanting to join the Avengers. Deadpool.

Peter doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Why should he trust one word that came out of this dude’s mouth?

He turns his phone off and tosses and turns all night. When he checks it the next morning there’s a bunch of texts from Wade.

wrong answer? Thats what i get for telling the truth huh

look i know they wouldn’t even look twice at me. Known that since you swung into my life on your chandelier-o-webs, so you can relax spidey you’re still the shiny new member

we must be really depressed if we’re not even making a penis joke

i’d serenade you with a boombox outside a-team tower if i thought a) u were there b) tin man wouldnt send his bots after me c) you’d actually get the reference

That text was sent at 11:40. The next and last one was sent at 2:44am.

this is fucking pathetic now but whatever go big or go home. I came for the avengers. I stayed for you. See ya around, spidey.

Peter wipes the sleep out of his eyes, heart stuttering in his chest at the last message.

“What the fuck,” he mouths, texting back before he can think better of it.

you dont even know me

It takes Wade a while to text him back. Peter tries not to think about why that might be, well aware of Deadpool’s healing factor and that he can do self-harm easily without any consequences. Peter really didn’t want to be the catalyst of something like that. The thought makes his stomach churn.

what can I say your reputation precedes you is Wade’s reply a few hours later, throwing Peter’s own words back at him.

He thinks about how Cap told him, “It would probably be better coming from you,” when he’d suggested them talking to Deadpool. Peter figured he was just being sent on lackey duty, being the newest and youngest member. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

our rooftop. 8pm

He doesn’t need to specify. Wade will know the one.
__________________________________

This time it's Peter who brings the food. Mexican again, and he really does bring Coke instead of wine, hoping maybe it'll at least get a laugh.

"Is this because you're not 21? You do realize the majority of your ridiculous country still drinks anyway. But whatever I'm Canadian, we do things that make sense over there."

"Where are you from?" Peter asks, pulling a steak burrito out of the bag and handing it to Wade.

"Regina. A vagina joke is way too easy, baby boy, don't lower yourself to it."

Peter's lips quirk. "I'll try to contain myself."

"Good. And now I'm gonna roll up my mask a bit so look away if the Elephant Man or Freddy Krueger or ET freaked you out. Or like, Brad Pitt in Benjamin Button when he wasn't hot. I think I've covered all the bases."

Peter rolls his own mask up to his nose and waves a hand between them. "I'm fine, just. Do your thing."

Wade is staring at him, mask still firmly in place. Peter licks his lips self-consciously and then wants to crawl in a hole when he remembers Wade just saw him do that.

He takes a bite of his burrito, hating the flush building on his cheeks. A flush Wade can see

"Knock it off," Peter says.

He doesn't expect Wade's quiet "sorry." He anticipated maybe a dozen or so remarks about his mouth, but not this. It's pathetic that he actually feels slightly disappointed.

Peter wants to look at Wade, tells himself he should seeing as Wade looked at him, but he also doesn't want the dude to be any more uncomfortable than he clearly is.

They eat in silence, neither talking about the shit from last night even though it feels like an elephant on the rooftop with them. Wade's never been this quiet around him and it's almost unsettling.

Peter finally lets his eyes wander when he's finishing his second can of Coke. Wade's whole face (from what Peter can see) is covered in scars, right down to his lips. Peter has no idea where the thought "I wonder what they'd feel like to kiss" comes from, and decides he really, really needs to get out more.

"You're a difficult person to figure out," Peter says eventually.

"I've got moves you've never seen," Wade replies, clearly quoting something.

"Right. Well. I don't know what to believe when it comes to you," Peter admits, wanting to add 'or if any of this flirting is genuine or if that's just your M.O.' but chickening out. "But. Uh. I'm willing to take you at your word that you're turning over a new leaf and I'm wondering if you'd like to join me. On patrol."

This time, Peter can see Wade's expression change, his mouth dropping open, and some burrito falling out.

"Gross," Peter says, throwing a napkin at him.

Wade laughs, self-deprecatingly. "Now, see, that's what I usually get when the mask comes off."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a douchebag."

Wade pauses, stares down at his hands. Peter wonders how rough they are beneath the gloves. "Nah, you're really not," he says quietly, almost to himself. Peters never heard him sound so... soft. He wants to curl up inside that voice, let it wash over him.

Oh, Parker, you are in deep.

"Anyway, yes, Spidey I'll do a team-up with you. How could I possibly resist? You're practically begging here."

"I am not begging. And this is is trial run, okay? If you... what do you call it? ‘Unalive’ anyone at all or fly off the handle we're through."

"Aw, baby, it's tearing up my heart when I'm with you."

"Deal with it, Timberlake."

"I'm more of a JC guy myself, actually. How bout you?”

Peter swallows, pulse jumping in his throat. It's the perfect opening...

"So you. You like dudes then?"

His heart is hammering in his chest but Wade doesn't even miss a beat. "Dudes, chicks, non-binary folk, it's all good for the 'Pool."

"Okay," Peter says, heart still racing. This never gets any easier for him, even if he knows the other person will be cool with it. And telling Wade seems like... a big step. This guy doesn't even know his name. "I...I'm bisexual, so."

"Well now you're just trying to torment us."

Peter laughs, runs a hand nervously over the back of his neck.

"Sorry, I take it back. One hundred percent hetero over here."

"Mmhmm. Should've known. Straight boys never have asses that good."

"Shut up," Peter says weakly, cheeks burning.

When he looks up, Wade is watching him. He licks his lips and Peter's eyes track the movement.

All of a sudden he feels like there isn't enough air in his lungs.

"Um."

"I think you should roll your mask down," Wade says. Peter’s never heard his voice sound that way before. Hoarse. Thick.

"Why?" he asks, barely breathing.

"Because for once the boxes are in agreement and I can't keep looking at your lips much longer before I listen to them and kiss the shit outta you."

Peter feels a frisson of want shoot up his spine. He could do it first, lean over, see if Wade's lips are as rough as they look, soothe over the scars with his tongue.

But he still hasn't seen Wade in action. Still isn't positive he's really trying here, no matter what his body is wanting him to do.

Peter rolls down his mask, reluctantly. He watches as Wade's lips thin out in a line and no, that won't do it. He tells himself he shouldn’t do this, but he can't really help himself.

"I don't kiss on the first date, anyway," he says, biting his lips on a grin when Wade whips his head around to face him.

Wade recovers after a beat. "I'd argue this is far from date #1 but whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetums."

Peter can hear the fake bravado behind it, knows that Wade is as shocked as he just looked. Good.

They make plans to meet up Saturday night for patrol. Peter knows he should probably be questioning his sanity but he swings away from Wade feeling happier than he has in a while.

He checks his phone when he gets home to find a bunch of burrito, heart, and kiss lips emojis.

He sends back a blushing smiley face and wonders what the Avengers would say if they saw this shit.

____________________________________

5.

Peter was no stranger to his own witty repertoire or slightly obnoxious running commentary while out on patrol. It made him feel good, taking down criminals and ensuring their evenings plans would be taking a detour to the police station. Wade, however, takes all of that to new levels.

His mouth runs a mile a minute. He's loud, annoying, and ridiculous, and Peter finds himself far more amused than he should be. But Wade hasn't tried to kill the convenience store robber or the teens having a knife fight in an alley, so Peter considers it a success thus far.

That is, until they get to a guy trying to sexually assault a woman. They get there early enough, thankfully, but the woman still has bruising on her wrists and hips and is pretty shaken up. Peter's talking to her to see if she'll press charges when he hears the guy scream.

He looks over to find him pinned to the wall, with the tip of Wade's katana pressed against his stomach.

“Give me one fucking reason I shouldn't gut you like a fish.” Wade's voice is cold in a way Peter’s never heard it before.

"Deadpool!" Peter yells, using his best Spider-Man voice. "Let him go."

"No fucking way, Spidey. Scum like him deserve their own special hell."

"I agree with you, but you're not the one to send him there."

Wade spins around to him, still holding the guy up against the wall. "You seriously think the legal system will do anything? Oh Spidey, you're so naive. We don't do something and this guy is just at it again tomorrow, same crime, different victim."

"She's agreed to press charges and it's not one man’s job to be judge, jury and executioner. Let him go."

Deadpool turns back to the guy and Peter holds his breath.

"You're fucking lucky you didn't run into me alone, buddy," he whispers, voice deadly before removing the blade and dropping the guy.

Peter webs him to the wall quickly. Wade's with the woman at the end of the alley, flagging down a cab for her. Peter's heart lurches.

"People like him..." Wade says when he's joined Peter's side again. He's trailed off, voice strangled in an uncharacteristic way. Peter knows there's a story here and he both does and doesn't want to know. It makes him want to punch things. Instead, he aims his web shooter at the guy's crotch and grins when he cries out in pain.

Wade laughs beside him and the sound is a welcome relief. "Oh, Spidey, you rebel, you. I'm totally heartseyeing right now."

"C'mon," Peter says, clapping Wade's shoulder. "Let's get some tacos."

"Motherfucking heartseyes everywhere."
________________________

They eat on a rooftop, and it's shitty Taco Bell but it was the only place still open at 2am. It does the trick anyway and Peter enjoys listening to Wade's breakdown of Mexican food, ranking his favorite to least favorite items and then his favorite to least favorite eateries in the city.

Peter's pretty sure this counts as a date and halfway through their meal he gets fixated on it and the thought of kissing Wade.

When they've finished their food, Peter stands to stretch and Wade does the same. He's rolled the mask back down and Peter's done the same.

"So, not bad for your first time."

"That's what she said."

Peter laughs, shaking his head. Nerves course through him, which is ridiculous.

Wade lets out a girlish squeal. "Superhero team up #1 a success, hi-five!"

Peter slaps Wade's hand, says "I wouldn't say you're a super--"

He's words are cut off by Wade continuing "and hug!"

"Hero," Peter finishes weakly as he's pulled into Wade's arms.

His face is mashed against Wade's shoulder and he never really realized just how... wide Wade is. His arms are strong around Peter's chest and Peter can't help but bring his own up around Wade's back.

It feels... right. It's fucked up probably, but he feels safer than he has in a while in the arms of this strange wanna-be-ex-Merc.

"If I said you had a nice body would you hold it against me?" Wade says, voice pitched way too low against Peter's ear. He suppresses a shiver

"If that's you upping your material you still lack points for originality."

"Mmm, so I guess if I asked if that was a gun in your pocket or if you're just happy to see me that wouldn't be much better, eh? And inaccurate, I mean. With the no unaliving and everything."

Peter giggles. "I wear a cup, you moron."

"Ah, this just got awkward, then."

Peter doesn't realize what Wade means until he presses a little closer and feels--oh.

Oh, God.

He stiffens, and Wade pulls back, enough that Peter can look up at him.

"Tacos are very arousing, what can I say."

Peter gives him skeptical look. "Shut up," he says, and then with shaky fingers he brings his hands up to Wade's mask.

Now it's Wade's turn to go stiff. "Spidey--" he says, softly but a warning nonetheless.

"I won't take it all the way off," Peter promises and waits for Wade's nod.

He inches the mask up to the bottom of his nose and drags his fingers along those lips, reveling in the rough, uneven skin.

"You--" Wade shakes his head, shivering as Peter traces his lips in a circle. "I don't understand your life choices, but I'm selfish enough not to care right now."

"Shut up and kiss me, Wade."

"Fuck," Wade breathes against Peter's fingers. Then his hands are pushing up Peter's own mask up to his nose and crushing their lips together.

Peter gasps into the kiss, his hands tight on Wade's shoulders. He presses up onto his tiptoes so he can get closer, kiss him harder.

Wade moans into the kiss and when his tongue touches Peter's lips he opens his mouth and lets him inside.

Wade's lips are chapped and rough but his tongue is wet and soft. The stark contrast is unbearably hot.

Peter walks them backwards, so Wade's pressed up against the short wall near the door that leads to this apartment's stairwell.

Wade hits it with a grunt and his gloved hands glide up and down Peter's back. "Are you real?" he gasps, breaking away to suck at the hinge of Peter's jaw. "Multiverses are a thing, trust me. You could definitely be a different Spidey."

"I'm real," Peter pants, barely recognizing his own voice. He presses harder into Wade, rocks his thigh into Wade's very impressive erection, hot and hard against the spandex of his suit.

"Jesus Christ, baby boy, the things you do to me, you've got no idea," Wade breathes out, sounding reverent and completely unironic. His hands slide down to Peter's ass, squeezing.

"You've never even seen my face," Peter points out.

"Doesn't matter. Crazy about you. Crazy in general but you get me, don't you. God, your ass. Fucking work of art. No I'm not gonna-- fucking shut up--"

Peters never been so turned on or so confused in all his life. Wade's mouth is still pressing kisses all over the exposed parts of his face and his hands are worshiping Peter's ass like some ancient temple.

"What are they saying?" Peter asks gently.

"Mm," Wade moans, dragging down Peter's suit to expose his neck and fastening his mouth to the racing pulse in his neck. Peter gasps at the feel of his tongue. "Whitey wants me to slap your ass."

"Oh, shit," Peter says, weakly.

"Yellow says that would disgust you, especially if it's me doing it."

Peter pulls back, looks into Wade's eyes or as much as he can like this. He traces the scars on his cheeks. "Yellow should shut the hell up."

He surges up again, bringing their mouths together, swallowing Wade's shocked, "Oh, fuck."

The slap makes his body jerk. It's playful but firm and stupidly sexy.

"Baby boy, you blow my mind," Wade groans as Peter nips along his jaw, the uneven skin strange yet hot beneath his lips.

Wade slaps his other cheek and then just kneads at his ass, hitching Peter even higher along his thigh.

"This cup is getting really uncomfortable,” Peter admits after what feels like hours but is probably a few minutes.

"Just keep grinding against me baby, I'll get you there. My hips don’t lie." Wade sounds wrecked and he's been sucking at Peter's neck so hard it's probably covered in hickeys. Peter’s never made out this long or intense before, and he never wants to stop.

"Wanna make you come," he finds himself saying, the words shockingly true.

Wade lets out a long, low groan and fucks up against him harder, faster. "You're gonna be the death of me and I can't die. Jesus fuck baby, wanna make you scream my name."

Peter gasps and shudders, feels himself so close to breaking apart. "Peter," he says.

Wade laughs breathlessly against his ear. "Okay yeah, not my name but I guess this was too good to be true, eh, sweetums?"

Peter groans, slapping at Wade's hip. "It's my name, idiot. Peter."

"Shit," Wade whispers and then tenses, bucking up once more before coming on a low choked off cry.

"Fuck, Wade," Peter groans, following Wade over the edge and coming all over himself.

"Peter," Wade says, sounding dazed.

Peter presses a smile to Wade's throat, heart thundering in his chest. He doesn't even think he’ll regret the revelation in the light of day.
_________________________

The next morning is Sunday so Peter sleeps in, showers, jerks off to the memory of Wade's huge body against his and those big hands all over his ass, and then checks his phone.

There's nothing from Wade at all. Peter frowns.

He didn't really peg Wade for a hit it and quit it kinda guy, but he's suddenly insecure as fuck.

If your suit was as annoying to clean as my cup was, you have my sympathy. is what Peter sends.

That's what I get for going commando. We probably shouldn't have humped each other against a stairwell for an hour. That was probably my bad.

His next text is:

(but fuck it I've got no regrets baby)

Peter laughs, relief washing over him. So maybe Wade was thinking Peter was the one second guessing shit. Well, fuck that. He was probably making terrible life choices, but he didn't really give a damn.

I'd say I had a lot to do with that too. You can send me the dry cleaning bill. ;)

Mmm, you were definitely quite the little minx. The boxes have barely been giving me the post-hookup insecurity angst. they're so happy to have gotten some!

The words make Peter pause. It's one thing to assume what Wade might've been dealing with and another to see it right there. It makes him wonder where the two of them can even go from here, what with Wade’s physical hang ups and Peter’s -- everything. He definitely wants to get busy with Wade again (it'd been some of the best sex of his life and they hadn't even gotten their clothes off) but that also means Wade actually seeing him and him seeing Wade.

They both wear their suits like armor, for completely different reasons. And Peter might be ready to tell Wade his first name but he's not exactly ready to jump into the rest of it right this second.

We need to talk is what Peter texts back.

Oh, is Wade's response.

So they meet on "their rooftop" and Peter tells him he needs to take this slow, despite what happened last night. Wade seems so relieved that Peter isn't giving him the brush off that he's barely disappointed.

"I just... I will, you know? We can't do this if you don't see my face, but. Just give me some time?" He hopes the implied "and you're gonna have to show me your face, too, so this is kind of a reprieve for us both" is apparent.

"I get it, Petey. Just let me know when you're ready."

Peter scowls at the nickname but lets it pass, yanking Wade forward instead. "Doesn't mean we still can't make out," he says in what he hopes is a sexy voice, falling onto his back and pulling Wade on top of him.

By the sound Wade makes as he presses Peter into the brick he thinks he's succeeded.

__________________

+1

The Avengers have basically been taking a break, doing their own shit, in and out of town, which is nice because no one has been in Peter’s business. No one knows he's spending his nights fighting crime with Wade and then getting pressed into walls and climbing the guy like a tree and having the best orgasms of his life.

But Peter knows that can't last forever. And the secrecy is starting to get to him, despite hypocrisy of that thought.

It's surprisingly easy to find Wade in the streets of New York. Peter follows him around as himself and not Spider-Man one afternoon when he's supposed to be taking photos of some visiting diplomat.

Wade happily goes about his business, might even be whistling as he walks along the streets in his suit like there's nothing odd about that. Peter hopes he might have something to do with the happy, carefree mood, as last night they made out in the backseat of an abandoned car, Wade's body pressing him into the seat, the two of them coming against each other while Wade moaned his name, his real name. Peter had abandoned the cup after the second time they found themselves tangled up in one another; his dry cleaning bills were through the roof lately.

Peter follows him to a food cart where Wade is buying a Churro and then texts i’m ready.

Peter watches through a tangle of nerves as Wade text’s back.

Really?

Peter expected -- I dunno, a link to ‘Let’s Get it On’ or an eggplant emoji or something equally cheesy and sexual. Not an honest, hopeful question.

It makes the next part of his plan a hell of a lot easier.

“Hey there,” he says from behind Wade, watching him turn and look down at Peter. He feels even smaller with Wade in the suit while Peter’s dressed in jeans, a plaid button down, and is wearing his glasses instead of the contacts. He’s also ridiculously into it.

Wade gives him a once over before saying, “Hey yourself, kid. No I’m not Spider-Man and I don’t give out autographs, so.”

He turns back around and Peter quickly types out Yeah. Wanna see you right now.

He waits until Wade is in the middle of texting a response to say, “Actually, I know who you are and I’d really love to go back to your place, if you’re interested.”

Wade whips around to stare at him and Peter knows his eyes are wide and his jaw is slack beneath the mask.

“Uh. Look kid, you’re kind of distressingly my type and I’m actually stupidly into your assertiveness. Any other time and i’d be all over this while at the same time worrying about your mental state, but there’s only one person I want riding my disco stick, if you get my drift, and he ain’t you, no matter how adorable you might be.”

“That’s too bad,” Peter says, lips twitching.

Wade shrugs. “What can I say, mi amigo, this Wade Pool is closed.” Peter watches him turn around to order.

He types quickly, watches Wade check his phone after he’s already paid and is starting to walk away.

i think you should take that kid home with you. He seems to really want your disco stick

Peter steps off the line, watches Wade turn around slowly. He seems frozen in place as he stares at Peter, churro hanging limply at his side, so Peter walks up to him.

“No fuckin’ way, baby boy,” Wade breathes and Peter flushes under his gaze, feeling heady at Wade studying his face, his actual face.

“I’d really like to go back to your place,” Peter says again. “If you’re interested.”

“Jesus fuck, yes.”

It’s weird, walking along the streets with Wade, taking the subway back to his apartment. It’s mundane and normal and so unlike anything they’ve ever done, the two of them normally scaling buildings together or swinging between skyscrapers.

Wade keeps staring at him and Peter would be lying if he said he wasn’t into it. He’s half-hard by the time they get to Wade’s apartment. Wade immediately presses him against the door once they’re inside but Peter holds him off, pressing his palms to Wade’s chest and looking up at him. “Wait. Before we -- I’m still not ready to tell you my last name. Or for you to see my place. I'll get there. But I've got. Issues, okay? But I do want this, I want to be with you, and that means you need to be comfortable with -- all this, too.” He waves at Wade’s face and body.

Wade pauses and Peter watches him nod. “Yeah, well. Figured it’d be too much to hope to get you naked while I just rub all over you in the leather.” His tone is teasing and okay, it does make for a hot visual, but still, Peter has to be sure. He doesn't want Wade to be the only one making compromises.

“Wade -- if you're not ready…”

Wade waves him off. “Just joshin’ with you, Petey. I knew the drill. Been getting ready for the big reveal in my head. Which isn't the funnest place to be but alas. Although, honestly, I was hoping you wouldn’t be such a supreme hottie. Good god, baby, you got a kink with being so far out of people’s leagues or something?”

“Shut up,” Peter says, taking Wade’s hands in his and walking them backwards toward what he hoped was the bedroom.

The light isn't on, but there was enough coming through the windows. Peter wraps his arms around Wade’s neck and kisses him, slotting their mouths together. Wade returns it almost desperately, like he’s thinking this will be the last one he’ll ever get. Fuck that shit.

Peter drags his hands all over Wade’s body, loving the way his muscles bunch beneath his touch, the way he arches into him.

When Peter’s hands come up to the mask, he pulls back and whispers, “Can I?”

“Do it like a band-aid, huh? Be better for us both.”

Peter frowns, wants to say something to reassure him but figures he’s got time to after its done. He lifts the mask up and off. Wade’s eyes are closed, the rest of his face just as scarred as the bottom half. His head is too, hairless with welts that all look like they could be painful and Peter’s hates that he’s never really thought to ask before.

“Look at me,” he whispers, and waits.

Wade’s eyes when they open are -- a revelation. Peter wasn’t expecting them to be so expressive, to see everything Wade’s feeling, everything he hides behind both the actual mask and the one of humor he wears.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Wade Wilson,” is what Peter says, mouth lifting into a soft smile.

Wade huffs out a laugh. “Nice to meet you too, Peter [last name redacted].”

Peter rolls his eyes and presses forward, slowly, so Wade knows his intent. He watches Wade’s eyes fall slowly shut, feels the hitch of his breath just before their lips meet again. They’ve kissed a countless number of times now but it doesn’t fail to feel like the very first one.

“Can we finally take this to a bed?” Peter whispers after long moments, his teeth biting at Wade’s bottom lip.

“Baby, you can have whatever you like,” Wade groans, and then proceeds to serenade Peter with T.I. (“It’s the Anya Marina cover in my head, fuck you very much,” Wade replies when Peter calls him out on it) as they undress one another and, well, if it gets Wade distracted enough that he isn’t angsting about getting completely naked, Peter will let Wade sing him a million cheesy sex songs.

Wade spends most of their first round mapping every inch of Peter’s body with his tongue, humming Salt-n-Pepa songs to himself, making Peter blush like mad when he gets to, “Wanna thank your mother for a butt like that,” and then proceeding to give him his first ever rimjob.

Peter is kind of boneless and sex drunk but he still takes control during Round 2, not letting Wade get off the hook, showing him this is a two way street and that his body isn’t going to make Peter run away screaming. Peter makes Wade come pretty fucking hard in his mouth while teasing him with one finger in his ass (all while humming “Your Body is a Wonderland” to prove he can be just as cheesy) so he’d say it was definitely a success.

Round 3 is in the shower. Wade’s dick slides slick and wet, teasing against Peter’s ass while Wade kisses and bites along his shoulder blades and back of his neck. He thinks maybe they pass out after that and can't even remember how he ends up riding Wade’s dick like he was built for it, in the middle of the night, but he’d happily make a career out of it if he could.

Peter kind of loses track after that and calls out of work the next two days, the two of them only leaving the bedroom to answer the door anytime they order in delivery.

One time Wade answers in just the mask and a pair of Spider-Man underwear that Peter was rather horrified to find in his dresser. Nevertheless, he pats himself on the back for wearing down Wade’s self-consciousness that much, emotionally scarred delivery boy withstanding.

Peter finally puts real clothes on when he realizes he hasn’t seen his aunt in days and he’ll probably lose his job if he takes another day off. Wade reluctantly lets him go, kissing him slow and deep against his front door, Peter dressed in one of Wade’s own hoodies and his body aching all over in the best of ways.

“Sadly I don’t think this is gonna get that ‘E’ rating after all, seeing as most of the stuff was off screen, but hey, we lived it, right baby boy?”

“Whatever you say, Wade,” Peter says against his mouth, having no idea what he’s talking about and kissing his lips again.

Wade groans and deepens it even further, then pulls away before it can get out of hand. “Get outta here before I kidnap you and the A-team put an APB out on your sweet ass,” Wade says, slapping Peter’s ‘sweet ass.’ “You’re a firecracker, jesus christ, and here I thought you were innocent.”

Peter smiles up at him sweetly, fixing his glasses on his face. “I did warn you.”

Wade hums, dragging his calloused fingers over Peter’s lips. Despite the past 48 hours, Peter’s still not used to looking at Wade without the mask on, or feeling his bare fingertips. It sends a thrill through him each time. “Yet you blush so prettily when I say all the things I wanna do to you.”

Sure enough, Peter’s cheeks flame at that. “I’m better at action.”

“You sure are,” Wade replies, voice thick, pads of his fingers gliding down the column of Peter’s throat, ever so slowly.

“I'm going!” Peter announces loudly because if he doesn't now, he never will.

Wade’s laughter follows him down the hall.

Peter’s phone is blown up with lyrics all day, ranging from raunchy to cheesy.

He doesn't stop smiling until he finds out someone that most definitely wasn't himself took a photo of Deadpool and Spider-Man the other night and sold it to the Bugle. Tomorrow they'll be running a story about their team-up, basically blasting Spider-Man, because JJ still can't stand the guy.

There's nothing Peter can really do about it, except what he's been wanting to do the past few weeks anyway.

____________________________

“Are you sure about this, Webs?” Wade asks for the tenth time. Peter wishes he were being obnoxious, rather than this mix of insecurity and nervousness.

“I’m sure. Let’s just -- see what they say, alright? They’re gonna find out in the morning anyway.”

Wade groans, and slides a hand down over Peter’s ass. “Can’t we just go back to my bed? I spent all day making you a mix for us to fuck to.”

“Oh, god, that’s what the lyrics were for.”

“Duh, baby boy.”

Peter rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the grin. “Later,” he says, removing Wade’s hand from his butt. “And seriously? We’re standing outside Avengers tower, you don’t think the cameras picked that up?”

For a big dude, Wade can sure shrink in on himself. “Oh, man, let’s just make a run for it, Petey. To the border we go, alright? All the Mexican we can eat!”

“Shut up, Wade. Now behave.”

The door opens with no one there.

“Hey Jarvis,” Peter says cheerfully.

“Mr. Stark is in the conference room with the team, and is not very happy,” comes the disembodied voice through the wireless communications system.

“Ah, so he saw that butt grab, huh?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Read ya loud and clear. Thanks, buddy,” Peter says, before turning to Wade. “Well, let’s go see if we can make you the newest member of the A-team, huh?”

“Should’ve stayed in bed,” is all Wade mutters, but he reaches out to squeeze Peter’s hand. Peter squeezes back, heart doing dumb flips in his chest, before letting go.

“Just a trial run, okay?” Peter implore to Steve ten minutes later, when everyone is looking at him like he’s lost his mind and eying Wade warily. “He’s good at those.”

Peter can’t tell for sure, but he thinks Wade is beaming at him behind his mask.

[end]