Um, it's not very well proof-read because I am literally just projecting myself into my fic here, my apologies. And hey, this is my first published spideypool fic, please don't hate me too much...
DNA, Shmee-N-A
"Petey?" Wade calls.
Peter groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut as if his worries can be expelled through induced tears. He hasn't moved for the last half an hour and he doesn't plan to move anytime soon either, no matter how alluring the voice calling his name sounds right now.
He feels sick but he knows he's not sick and he wants to curl up but he can't move because his back aches from being hunched over a pile of chemistry notes and question papers. The pen he'd been using, chewed on and glared at, stares at him from where he'd thrown it across the room in frustration. It hadn't even been difficult topics but his mind had been so distracted that even addition polymerisation was harder than rocket science, or worse: spontaneous social interactions.
"Hey, Pete-yyyy?" Wade sings, poking his head into the room, leaving with a sigh, and performing the most comical double-take Peter's ever seen. "What are you doing on the floor?"
After what may as well have been three years, Peter finally looks up, blinking as Wade swims in and out of focus for a second. Within the third blink of his tired eyes, Wade is kneeling in front of him and gently pulling him upright, bringing closer to a warm embrace of sympathy and love and concern. His eyes are full of anger and Peter can't tell why so, in his confusion, he finds himself stumbling over apologies in case he's done something wrong again.
"No, no, none of that mumbo-jumbo!" Wade grins, and the scars around his eyes morph into crinkles of amusement. "Let's take a break from-" he tilts his head to try and read the notes but fails- "whatever that stuff is. You can come back to it later."
"But-"
"Baby, no buts. Unless we're talking about literal butts and, more specifically, yours."
Taking a moment to process the sentence, Petet giggles. "I have a test tomorrow and-"
"Oh, the joy of being young..." Wade mutters, then shakes his head, his loving blue eyes once again focusing on Peter's overwhelmed blue ones. Blue fights blue as they stare at one another, both hoping to silently win their impromptu argument. Eventually, Peter groans and blinks, his eyes watering and his vision blurring.
"Yes! I win!" Wade beams. "Now, we're going to get you changed into something more comfortably sexy and then eat some tacos!"
"What?" Peter is only half-cynical because he's so relieved to be given an excuse to move. Sometimes, all it takes is someone else to tell you the very same thing you've been internally screaming at yourself for you to finally do the thing you'd been stopping yourself from starting.
Wade's hands are surprisingly warm when they accidentally on purpose brush his sides as his current shirt is pulled off his body. He shivers but he's only given a moment to shiver before there's the fabricated embodiment of warmth pulled down over his head. He smiles into the scent of Wade radiating from the hoodie and slips his hands through the sleeves, laughing when they dangle at least two inches past his fingertips. He can feel Wade's eyes on him as he rolls them up, bunching the fabric at his elbow, but he doesn't look up until he can properly see his wrists.
"Tacos or tacos?" Wade asks with a wink that frazzles Peter's vocal chords.
"Tacos it is! When's the last time you ate again?"
As if on cue, Peter's stomach imitates a dying whale and he grins sheepishly. "I, um, I had breakfast? I think? I remember making toast but-"
Wade's face is pressed against his before his spidey sense can go off and he's so shocked he forgets to breathe until the other man pulls back and frowns, shaking his head. "You need to build yourself a better appetite, Petey..."
"And- uh, you... you could tell that from an- a kiss?" Peter coughs, his cheeks flaring what Wade thinks is the best shade of pinkish red.
"Don't question the power of saliva!" Wade dramatically replies, lacing one of his hands in Peter's and pulling him along to the kitchen where he proceeds to attempt opening a fridge with his toe. As expected, he fails. He fails and overbalances, tipping sideways and pulling Peter with him, both of them tumbling to the floor with a yelp, a string of profanity, and a painful thud.
"Waaaade!" Peter laughs, having landed on top of said mercenary. He catches his breath before leaning down and letting his nose high five Wade's, their gazes locked on one another and Wade's hands protectively holding Peter up so he doesn't overbalance and hit the uncarpeted floor as well.
Previously maddening details of alkanes, alkenes, and alkynes fade from Peter's mind as he stands up, pulling Wade to his feet as well, and the two of them dance around each other as they figure out a way to unpackage the frozen tacos and place them in the microwave without falling a second time.
By the time they're ready to eat, Peter's half-asleep on Wade's chest. Wade doesn't want to move but the crazily high-pitched whine of the microwave is driving him crazy so he gently nudges the sleeping teenager.
"Hey, baby, rise and shine?"
"Mnnnnngghhh..." Peter emits, blinking slowly.
"I love you too!" Wade kisses the top of Peter's forehead and shuffles so he can press a button on the microwave, stopping the beeping and liberating the tacos.
The two of them are seated at the makeshift table (a plastic box stolen from Peter's attic) within two minutes, Wade planting a small kiss on Peter's hairline before they start eating. Peter only realises how badly he'd needed food when he takes his first bite and the warmth of satiated hunger fills his mouth. There's no such thing as individual bites after that, he practically inhales the rest of his taco.
He looks up to see Wade sitting back with an amused, almost sleepy smile on his face. His arms are folded and he's clearly not touched his taco in favour of staring at his boyfriend eat. Peter blushes and his face ends up tinting the same colour as the tomato stains on his lips.
"What?" Peter asks tentatively.
Wade just shakes his head. "You're meant to watch and appreciate beauty, aren't you?"
Peter's eyes couldn't possibly become any wider. His jaw quite literally drops and he has to steady himself with his elbows lest he whacks his head on the other plate or something else he could damage his skull with.
Wade raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "So, clever spider, answer me this: what is DNA?"
"Deoxyribonucleic acid is a long, thread-like chain of nucleotides in the form of a double helix that carries the genetic information of every organism science can identify." Peter gasps, having forgotten to breathe in his rush to explain the structure of DNA as if they were in an exam.
"You're right... Unless you're me. In which case, DNA is just an excuse to implement pain! DNA, shmee-N-A, am I right?" he sounds far too chirpy for someone casually referring to torture but that's nothing new really.
Regardless of Wade's potentially worrying casual references to forced agony, Peter finds himself relaxing.
He finds that, as they share Wade's taco - even attempting lady and the tramp with a piece of the shell - his mind relaxes and stops whirling at two hundred miles per hour. Thankfully, Wade can tell he's grateful without him having to say it so he's saved from tripping over thank-yous.
Later, once Wade has dragged Peter to their sofa before the teen can start watching their barely-unclean plates, the two of them hold on to each other like conjoined twins. Peter's head rests on Wade's shoulder and Ware has his arms firmly wrapped around the teenager as if anchoring him to tranquillity. Their legs cross over one another's and their souls are one as they both shut their eyes, Peter's dropping as he starts falling into the slumber he'd been avoiding and Wade's only closed because he knows Peter won't sleep otherwise.
"DNA, shmee-N-A..." Peter groggily agrees just before his eyes give up on staying open and he breathes evens to signal he's finally asleep.
"Sweet dreams," Wade murmurs with an amused but satisfied smile.
And so they stay, entwined, until the crack of dawn, because useful sleep is just as important as detailed knowledge but, ultimately, having someone you can trust to take care of you in the moments you forget about self-care is the most important thing of all.
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