"Is my little princess buttercup okay?"

Wade's tone was so sickeningly sweet, it made him cringe. Peter rolled his eyes, repressing the urge to smack him upside the head. "For the hundredth time – it was just a paper cut, Wade. I. Am. Fine."

In a sense, Peter was used to this. No, really. Every time he'd get an injury, no matter how small or insignificant, Wade would always fret over him with such exaggerated concern, one would think Peter was losing his life rather than, say, barely losing a drop of blood from a paper cut. Endearing, yes, but also quite irritating. Especially now, when he was trying to make dinner, chopping up all the vegetables Wade refused to eat, and Wade was draped across his back, heavy and overly affectionate.

His hands were roaming almost everywhere along Peter's body, making it extremely difficult for Peter to focus on cutting the damned carrot.

"But you can never be too sure, baby boy. For all we know, you could have herpes!"

"Wade!"

"What?" He felt his boyfriend shrug, hands sliding down to rest at his hips. "Even paper can carry STD. I don't want to lose my clean streak because you decided to get all kinky."

"For the love of - !" Peter put down the knife, pushing Wade off of him before sharply turning on his heel, eyes fierce as they locked with Wade's. He smirked up at Peter, eyes dancing with amusement.

"But I was watching Urban Legends and they showed this one person who cut their tongue while licking an envelope, and they got herpes!"

"You seriously believe that a tv series called 'Urban Legends' is going to be feeding you anything other than lies? Come on Wade, even you can't be that gullible."

"Hey, I present that!"

"I think you mean resent," Peter grumbled, turning back to the cutting board. "And seriously Wade, that show is nothing but lies."

"So not true, Pete! They show three stories, and then reveal which one is real at the end of the episode. It's very educational, lets you play detective and everything!"

"It's incredibly unlikely to contract herpes from licking an envelope, and I highly doubt the possibility," he said, fingers heavy with frustration as he pushed the knife into the carrot with a little bit more force than was necessary.

"Oh wait, it wasn't herpes!"

"Thank you!"

Wade leaned with his back against the counter, face pressing up close to Peter's. He grinned wide, eyes dark and mischievous. "It was cockroach eggs!"

Peter almost hurled the knife right at Wade; instead he dropped it on the cutting board, punching him hard in the arm. Wade stumbled back, cackling with glee. He made a show of wiping his eyes, trying to catch his breath before smirking up at Peter. "And the lady who licked the envelope had them growing in her tongue before it exploded!"

"That's gross!"

"But it's true," he said, collapsing into a nearby chair.

"No, Wade. It's not." He picked up the knife again, starting on the next carrot, his motions quick and rough. Frustration was building within him, coursing with sharp intensity, and he had to bite down on his tongue so as not to snap at Wade.

"And how would you know, mister smarty pants?" Wade teased.

"Because that show is fake – ah, fuck!" The knife clattered to the floor, and Peter clutched his hand to his chest, muttering curses.

"Peter?" Wade's voice was thick with concern, all humor and teasing gone. "Peter … hey, you okay?" he asked hesitantly.

Peter felt Wade's hand on his shoulder, tentative, fingers tense as they squeezed him gently. He considered pushing Wade away, he really did, but it wasn't his fault that Peter had cut himself. And it's not like the injury would last for very long. Yeah, it stung, but it would most likely be healed by tomorrow.

So Peter let Wade cling to him, let him wrap his arms around him tight and pull him in against his chest. And just to spite him, he let Wade wallow in his guilt, at least for a little while.

When he felt Wade's face pressing into his neck, arms constricting around his chest, Peter couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Idiot," he said, not even bothering to hide the affection in his voice. He grabbed Wade's hand, prying it from around his torso, and laced their fingers together. Wade gripped his hand tight, face pressing deeper into Peter's neck.

It was like he was trying to mould himself into Peter, like he wanted to infuse himself until they were one. He felt Wade's breath hot against his neck, felt his lips moving across his skin, mumbling something rhythmic.

"Wade … " Peter started, but he trailed off with a gasp, because Wade's teeth grazed against his skin, and he nipped and sucked until Peter had forgotten all he'd wanted to say.

Wade kept kissing him until he moaned, until he was pressed with his back flat against Wade's chest, knees weak and head spinning. It was brief, and he almost missed it, so focused on Wade's tongue dragging slowly up his neck. The words Wade was muttering, over and over again like a broken litany: "I'm sorry."