Wade loved Peter, okay, but he worshipped Aunt May. She was the actual best – that lady had a heart of gold and balls of steel. She was probably the only living person capable of distracting Wade from being all over Peter; usually by talking about Peter. They hit off since the moment they met. It was fate, a love at first sight, a long awaited reunion of two parts of one soul separated before they were born! Wade was in worship! Of course, he hadn't realized it right away, because Peter kissed the living shit out of him on that doorstep, and Wade couldn't even remember getting into the house. He suspected involvement of little cartoon wings attached to his ass carrying him inside and dropping him on the armchair, because when he finally snapped out of his daze, he was holding a cup of tea and a plateful of biscuits.
Peter and Aunt May were sitting on the couch, talking and laughing about something Wade couldn't quite focus on yet. What, Peter was a very good kisser, okay? But Wade would get to that particular skill of his later. Because of reasons. The point is, when Wade was mostly back to his senses, as much as it was possible at all, Aunt May glanced over at him, giggling like a goddamn schoolgirl, and Peter winked at him. This was very confusing for Wade, to put it mildly. Did he have a concussion again? Wade did the only thing that came up to his mind – he complimented the biscuits, which he coincidentally haven't tried yet, and the general ability of old people to make good food. He watched Peter's jaw drop, and Aunt May's eyes widen. Oops, did he say something wrong?
Aunt May turned to Peter and said his name in that tone that adults usually used to let their children know they weren't happy about something they'd done. Normal adults, that is. Wade's old man didn't bother using any tone at all, he would go straight for the beating. But Wade was getting off the track again. Both Peter and Wade held they breath in anticipation, but Aunt May squealed in delight and called Wadecharming. Charming! No one had ever called him charming! People mostly called him disgusting, obnoxious at best, if they hadn't passed from throwing up before, that is. Oh, shut it, Wade wasn't cut out for coherent story-telling, deal with it. The point was that Aunt May thought that Wade was charming and the best way to spend the afternoon would be looking at Peter's childhood photos. And Wade fell in worship.
The reason why Wade was telling you all this was for you to understand the gravity of his situation. See, Wade had a problem. Oh, hardy har har, you're hilarious. Wouldn't it be even more hilarious to watch you try to laugh with your mouth in your own ass? Now. Wade had a problem, and to illustrate how serious it was, not even Aunt May could remedy it, the princess fairy from the land of all things magical that she was. And to explain the nature of said problem, Wade would have to go way back, to the very beginning of his relationship with Peter. Not Spider-Man a.k.a. the sweetest piece of ass ever to walk the earth, because Wade had a crush on Spider-Man for as long as he could remember, but Peter Parker. Peter, with his doe eyes, shut up hair, and Jesus take the wheel mouth. As soon as Peter had taken off his mask in front of Wade, Wade was gone.
It wasn't that hard to pine after a masked vigilante, but it was nearly impossible to resist getting on his knees and begging Peter to paint Wade like one of his French girls. Photograph him like one of his bank robberies? Beat him like one of his shitty villains? Wade would have taken whatever. Beside the point. Wade was gone, and then he had to reevaluate the meaning of that word, because if he was gone because of Peter's face alone, how was he supposed to describe what happened to him when he actually got to know Peter? The guy whose sass could get him in trouble just as easily as it could get him out of it, who was strong enough to knock the lights out of Wade, smart enough to manage some ridiculous major the name of which Wade couldn't even pronounce while fighting crime, responsible enough not to ever burden his loved ones with his secret identity, and still immature enough to play Spider-Man in video games.
If Wade hadn't already gone crazy a long time ago, he would when he became Peter's friend. Then of course, he had to rethink the definition of crazy because being Peter's boyfriend was even worse. By which Wade meant the best, obviously, but also really, really the absolute worst. If you imagined Wade's mind as the map of the U.S. – ha, the United States of Wade. They should make a film like that. Oh, they already had? Leland? What kind of name was that? – Peter was mainland, tacos were Alaska, and everything else was Hawaii. Wade could go into excruciating detail about every single state of Peter, but this metaphor was getting out of control and he wanted to talk about Texas. Peter's mouth.
Now, Wade wasn't a religious man. It was kind of hard to believe in some divine fatherly figure when you'd been through shit like Wade, unless God was the kind of father Wade's old man had been; then it would make sense. But anyways, not religious. However, if Wade believed, he would say that Peter's mouth wasthe definition of sin. It was right there, in the dictionary, the photo of Peter's mouth next to the definition of sin, Wade was sure. He loved everything about that mouth, and he wanted it on him all the time, which wasn't really reasonable in his line of work. And Peter wasn't exactly helping Wade not to think about his mouth 24/7.
First of all, Peter had that weird habit of kissing Wade in the least expected, and sometimes the least appropriate situations, which often left Wade breathless for much longer than he was comfortable admitting even to himself. But it usually led to Wade and Peter's Sexy Time of Sexiness and Sex, because Peter was much better at seduction than Wade. Not to say that Wade was easy, but he was pretty easy. And he had literally nothing better to do than having sex with Spider-Man – it was kind of self-explanatory. So as far as the random kissing habit went, Wade couldn't really complain.
What made him frustrated and, honestly, quite obsessed, was Peter's other, much more infuriating habit. Peter was a thinker, right? That meant he did a lot of thinking, in case you were wondering. And the thinghe did when he was thinking was playing with his mouth. Some people concentrated with their eyebrows, Peter concentrated with his mouth. Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, wetting it with the tip of his tongue, sometimes gnawing at it until it was red and swollen. When he was studying or reading, no pen or pencil was safe from his mouth, when he was mulling or stressing over something, he bit his nails. Even when he was eating, it was like napkins didn't even exist. Wade was going to have words with Aunt May. Peter sucking his fingers into his mouth was giving Wade ideas, alright?
The situation was hopeless, to put it simply. Wade knew what Peter's mouth could do. He had it on every inch of his undeserving body, and he could tell you that mouth was a lethal weapon. Obsessing over it was hardly something inconceivable. Wade would go as far as to say you'd have to be brain damaged not to. And it was coming from a guy with brain cancer. Think about that. There was basically nothing Wade could do not to pop an instant boner whenever he caught Peter doing the thing, which was often. Too often. And Peter was a busy guy, he obviously couldn't just drop everything to lend Wade a hand. Wade had learned that the hard way.
The first time it happened, Peter was tweaking with his web shooters and Wade was cleaning his guns; he figured the only time he could do that in Peter's apartment was when Peter was too absorbed in his own work to notice. Wade lifted his eyes when Peter let out a particularly frustrated grunt, and he saw the thing. He was completely mesmerized – it was like a siren's call but without sirens and imminent death on the sea, but with an awkward boner instead. Peter must have felt Wade's eyes on him because he lifted his head and gave Wade a questioning look. Smooth player that he was, Wade blurted out that he was hard and wanted to have sex. If he remembered correctly, Peter's exact words were "Wade, I'm busy, I can't just drop everything to lend you a hand." And then, "Is that a gun you're holding?"
Since the initial fiasco Wade decided to adopt some kind of tactic to get Peter to help out when his problem had arisen. (Pun only half-intended. Wade was trying to be serious here, but his reputation had set the bar pretty high; he had to make at least one bad pun at some point.) He was a master assassin, dammit, he knew how to be stealthy. He was going to ninja his way into Peter's pants without ever letting him know why he wanted in there in the first place. Wade had never questioned Peter's random kissing habit, and he deserved an equal right! If Peter knew how the thing affected Wade, he would just stop, partly to get Wade to leave him alone and partly out of spite; Wade just knew. And he couldn't even stand the thought. It wasn't just about getting turned on by the sight, it was a spiritual experience! Yeah okay, it may have been mostly about getting turned on, but it took a strong spirit not to just come on the spot in two seconds flat, nonetheless.
On his first try, he was apparently too stealthy, because Peter didn't even notice he was being wooed. Maybe trying to communicate his needs with pointed staring and grunting was a bit too subtle because Peter brought him a coughing syrup from the kitchen and got back to reading his textbook. And doing the thing. Wade took the syrup and used it to jerk himself off in the bathroom. Never try this at home. On his second try, he decided to be slightly more forward. Never let anyone say Wade wasn't willing to learn from his mistakes. They were already in bed, Peter watching the news and Wade watching Peter. The presenter was yapping something about the Avengers, and judging from Peter's distressed expression, it wasn't anything nice. But Wade couldn't be bothered with unimportant issues like world peace when Peter was nervously gnawing at his bottom lip or his thumb. Wade could feel himself getting hot when he imagined his own fingers in Peter's mouth.
Before he even untangled his hand from the sheets to touch Peter's lips, Peter turned off the TV with an angry huff and disappeared into the bathroom. Wade sighed when he heard the shower start running. It was okay, though, Wade could wait – he was a patient man when it counted. He could entertain himself while waiting just fine. By the time Peter had finally come out of the shower, Wade was already half-crazy, and it took everything he had to suppress a whine when Peter didn't even look at him before laying down and turning his back to him. If there was one thing Wade had learned about Peter, it was that if he wasn't in the mood, nothing but bodily harm ensued. But how could Wade call himself Deadpool if he didn't at least try. He shuffled closer to Peter, plastering himself against his back and wrapping his arms around his waist. Peter sighed, "I sincerely hope this is a gun poking me in the butt because if it's a dick, you're gonna lose it." Shower sounded wonderful!
After that, he tried everything. Sometimes he succeeded, and sometimes he failed – everything depended on how endearing Peter found Wade's hopeless attempts at being seductive. Wade might or might not have had an elaborate organization chart of used strategies and appropriate reactions. Using words was by far the most reasonable approach, as getting physical without warning, in nine out of ten cases, ended in a long and painful process of removing spider webs from his eyes. Words, however, turned out to fall into three main categories – actually appropriate, not really appropriate but still kinda cute, completely inappropriate. Wade found himself falling mostly into third category, second one if he got lucky. He managed to sound completely appropriate exactly one time since the thing had started to be, well, a thing, but a bank near the taco joint they in at that glorious once-in-a-lifetime moment, was broken into.
But maybe Wade was being melodramatic. After all, it wasn't that Wade didn't got laid at all. It wasn't even that Peter was a selfish bastard who wouldn't put out when his boyfriend was horny. To be honest, they had sex all the time. Most of it was initiated by Peter, true, but Wade had his moments. They were fine, it would never even cross Wade's mind to complain about his sex life. What? He was narrating, not complaining, there is a difference, shut up. The problem was that he couldn't have more sex. It wasn't his fault that Peter's mouth turned Wade into a sex-crazed maniac. But neither it was Peter's. And even Wade realized that expecting his boyfriend to go down on him in the middle of a coffee date with Gwen was a bit too much. It's not like his sneaking out to the bathroom to jerk off took longer than a few minutes. Peter never even knew…
Or that's what Wade thought before he was fawning over Peter's childhood photos with Aunt May, bless her pure soul, and sneaking a glance at Peter, who played with his lips in embarrassment. Wade wanted to look away, out of sheer respect for Aunt May, but he couldn't. He watched Peter's fingernails raking over his bottom lip, and his mind went places. Naughty, naughty places. He felt his body grow hot, and his mouth dry. His throat clicked when he swallowed, and Peter's eyes snapped to his, widening in horrible realization. he tore his fingers away from his mouth and gaped. He knew. Wade was going to maim him. Not in front of Aunt May, though. No, he was going to wait until after they left, end Peter's vile existence and marry Aunt May. She would never betray him like that. The only way this wasn't ending in killing was for Peter to take him upstairs and suck his homicidal urges through his cock.
"Uh" Aunt May grunted uncomfortably and got up from the couch. Peter was looking at her, completely mortified, and Wade realized he had said the last part out loud. Out of all the parts possible, he said the one that had killing and sucking cock in it out loud. In front of Aunt May. Wade had never wanted to die so badly in his life. "I'm not sure how I feel about what you just said, dear boy, so I'll just go to a bar and stay there drinking until I forget I've ever heard it. Does it sound like a good plan? It sounds like a great plan to me. Leave the key under the mat."