Wade wakes up to an empty bed. His arm flings over to Peter's side only to find it vacant. He frantically pats the warm mattress and his heart lurches in his chest, drowsiness gone in an instant.
He jerks upright, heaving.
No. No.
"Peter!" He calls out, voice wobbling pathetically. Wade throws himself off the bed and on trembling legs he runs through the apartment. "Pete? Petey? Baby boy?"
He isn't there. Of course he's not.
Because Peter is dead.
Wade's knees hit grimy linoleum and he falls forward, his weight caught by his arms. He stares at the white and black checkered floor of their apartment, the grooves between the tiles cracked and uneven, packed with dirt.
He and Peter picked this apartment together. They browsed pages of ads on the internet before finding one in an acceptable part of the city within their price range. His baby boy came to his place, helped him pack his things, and they signed the lease together.
This apartment was, for Wade, the true cementing of their relationship. When Peter asked him to be his boyfriend, he was simultaneously thrilled and terrified. He fell in love with Spider-Man, and then, by some miracle, the man (a boy, really) behind the mask reciprocated his feelings. Came to him, and asked him to be his boyfriend. It was too good to be true.
Wade would be lying if he said that for the first few weeks he didn't entertain the idea he was in some kind of coma and dreaming the whole thing up. Because Peter is too good for him. By a million times. Peter is smart and kind and beautiful, he deserves so much more that Wade can give him.
Yet that didn't stop Peter from staying. From tentatively asking if Wade wanted to move in together after only six months of dating.
May helped them move. She gave them plastic placemats, a silverware separator, and a bedding set for housewarming gifts. She kissed them both on the cheek and told them to visit often.
God, did May know? He didn't remember telling her, didn't remember the heartbroken wails she surely would have made. Thinking about his boyfriend's aunt makes his head hurt and Wade curls into himself on the floor. May had Al. She would be okay.
[No, she won't. She'll never be okay again. You let this happen. You. Let. Him. DIE.]
"Peter, I'm so sorry." Wade whimpers, suddenly feeling cold despite the sweltering summer heat outside. White was right. He could have saved Peter. He should have saved Peter.
{Shoulda, woulda, coulda.} Yellow chimes. {At least you still have us.}
"Peter," Wade whispers his name with the reverence of a prayer, eyes squeezing shut when memories bombard him.
The pool of red seeping out onto the ground is dark and Wade stares at it, unmoving for a moment. His mind can't comprehend that Peter, his baby boy, is lying on the filthy street bleeding out.
Peter's body twitches and he cries out, hands going to cover the bullet entry wounds on his stomach.
The spell over Wade shatters and he's at Peter's side in an instant. He rips the Spider-Man mask away because Peter's breathes are choked and the fabric isn't helping. His hair is disheveled and if Peter wasn't bleeding to death Wade would think it was adorable.
His pupils are blown wide from the pain and adrenaline, the brown Wade loves so much engulfed by black and glossy with tears. Peter's eyes dart around in his skull, unseeing due to the sudden shock to his system.
He gurgles out something unintelligible and Wade grasps his hand, presses a kiss to the knuckles. Peter's gaze snaps to him. A trickle of crimson slips down the corner of his mouth. Behind Wade he distantly hears Tony shouting, but Wade can't tear his attention away from the love of his life.
Dying in front of him.
Peter seems to know what's happening too, and his hand grips Wade's in return.
"Peter-"
"Everything will be okay." Peter promises, the words weak and lies .
He goes limp, the hand gripping Wade's lax.
Just like that, he's gone.
Spider-Man, the hero that saved Wade, made his life worth living, gone. Because of the lead that tore through his flesh.
Tony is still in his Ironman suit and he pulls Wade away from his lover. His boyfriend. The man he wanted to make his husband but would now never have the chance.
Tony is saying something, but Wade can't hear him. They take Peter's body away.
Wade doesn't remember much after that. He goes back to their apartment and he thinks he must blow his brains out because the week since Peter died is a literal blur.
He could still smell him in their bed sheets.
He pushes himself into a corner of the kitchen between cabinets. He wants to get his gun, end his misery for a few hours. Finding the will to move is an effort too great and he sits there, sobbing.
"Wade I'm home!" Peter hollers, kicking his shoes off at the door. "Babe?"
"I can still hear his voice." He hears a whimper from the kitchen and bolts in that direction.
"Wade!" Peter stops in his tracks at the sight of his boyfriend. Wade is huddled in a corner, statue-still and staring blankly into the nothingness that has no doubt surrounded him. His eyes are red and puffy.
Peter knows instantly what happened. He lowers himself to the floor, keeps a few feet back.
"Wade."
The man's head twitches, but he doesn't turn to acknowledge the voice. "Wade. It's me. It's Peter. I'm right here, I'm fine. I'm not a hallucination, I'm alive and real."
"You're dead." Wade says, monotone. "I watched you die. I didn't protect you. If you're not a hallucination, you're a vengeful spirit."
"I'm coming closer." Peter warns, creeping forward. "I'm going to touch you." His arms wrap around the man, holding him tightly.
"I didn't die. I passed out and Tony took me to Bruce. He patched me up." He lifts his shirt to show the smooth expanse of his skin. "See? Good as new." Wade doesn't turn and Peter takes his hand, presses it to the squish of his stomach. "I'm here, baby. This was my first day back to work, remember?"
Wade shakes his head, can't accept the breach of what is his current reality.
"You're not alone." Peter assures, dropping a kiss onto his forehead. "You can't get rid of me that easily."
"I-" Wade cuts himself off, swallowing thickly as more tears stream down his face.
"Feel how warm I am." Peter orders, pulling off his shirt. He maneuvers them so he's on his knees and Wade is slumped against him, head flush to his sternum. "Listen to my heartbeat."
Wade's breathing is ragged, too quick in and out. Peter rubs his back. "Bruce fixed me up, Wade. I had to stay at the tower for three days. You slept in a chair next to me the first night and Tony got another bed put into my room for you. My healing factor had me fit as a fiddle in two days, but you and Tony wouldn't let me get out of bed. You made a sponge bath joke."
Wade nods against him. He does have a vague recollection of those events. "Come back to me, Wadepool."
The warmth of Peter's body drips into Wade's cold skin and he blinks. In another few minutes he's aware of everything. Peter is not, in fact, dead. Everything his baby boy said was true.
"Oh god, Petey. I-I woke up and you weren't there and-my brain it just-I thought I lost you."
Peter lets him ramble, the hand sweeping along Wade's back not stopping. "You didn't." He says simply. "I'm here. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. You're not ready for me to go back to work, that's okay. Tony wasn't happy I went in today, either. I'll take some more time off. We've got plenty in savings. Okay?"
Wade sniffs and nods, not trusting himself to speak. He hugs Peter. He never wants to let go.