Wade lounged on his couch, Peter's head resting in his lap. They were watching one awful Superman-movie. Wade could not help but wonder what was so great about a man wearing his briefs over his suit. Seriously, who would do such a thing? He was always naked under his Deadpool-suit. Much more comfy, no chafing, no issues keeping layers of cloth in order - you know, the issues you sometimes have with boxers and tight jeans ... He was glad Pete handled it the same way, cause on top of the practical issues, it provided quick access to his man-parts. Come to think of genitals, Wade thought how he loved Pete's! How he loved the whole Superhero-meets-neurotic-Teenager air Pete had all 'bout him. His sparkling blue eyes, which would glisten in that cute way when he ripped his Spidey-mask of to meet Wade's kiss. Uhmmm the kisses. Wade could have spent an eternity in the soft touch of Pete's healthy lips. Even the pain he had to endure to get touched by Pete could not distract from the security he felt when he lay in young Spider-Man's arms. A security he did not know he had needed. Deadpool was all about insecurity. Get shot, get your brains blown out, get ripped apart and eaten alive in every second... all that. But that was okey by Wade. He'd selected this path - well actually it was the only sensible way to move on. What was surprising to him (and all his fans who read this ... "Damn, they must wonder who it was they were watching and reading about, how he'd kept this softy-gay-cuddly side from them. Judgmental fuckers. No offense."), was how he secretly longed for all the ins-and-outs of a relationship. Even if 'till now it was more of a fling with potential, he'd not let himself be so vulnerable in ... well ... about ever. Pete had even seen him without his mask, and still wanted to see him. Yay! "But what does he see in me? I'm some years older, TONS larger, full o' scars, rough, mean, 'Merch with a Mouth'. Not kind, friendly, cute. Well not most of the time, anyway. But he just melts my innermost protection away. Like dropping a hot Magnum round right into my stomach - only in a good way.", Wade submitted to the weird meanderings of his wicked brain: "Fuck you, brain!" Maybe getting it blown of a lot made it even stranger than all the random shit he had gone through? "Well, Wade, you have awesome abs, legs, powerful guns. Of course he want's ya.", the Deadpool-part inside his head told him. Reason weighed in: "But there's gotta be more to it. Johnny Storm had all that. He could even fucking light himself on fire. Lucky bastard... Actually that'd be way cool, being the Torch. Maybe I'll go buy some gas tomorrow and try it. Will hurt though. Dayemn. Naa, katanas and guns are way sweeter. And if I go all Johnny Storm on him, he'll be upset - and I couldn't bear to be the cause for his sadness. Seeing these cute blue eyes shed a tear, see it roll down his cheek tarnishing his soft skin with an unmistakable mark of disdain for me, that would be to much. Getting ripped to pieces by Wolverine, that feeling...", Wade pondered and went on: "Listen to yourself, man. You're in way too deep." Yup, he decided, he was. But it felt so good, despite thinking this could not be possibly happen to Deadpool, maybe Wade had a chance yet. People always got what they felt they deserved. Apparently he was worth more to himself than he'd thought, for getting involved with such nice a guy. He bent his head, looking at Peter with watery eyes hidden behind his mask. Peter noticed his stare: "What's up, Wade? What are you thinking about?" As he mustered his friend, Peter cuddled into the warmth of his lap, enjoying the physical contact as well as the special connection they shared. "Guns. Thinkin' 'bout guns 'n katanas.", Wade replied. "And you.", he added in his mind.