Peter thought he would never be able to enter Mr. Stark's limousine without sporting a nerdy smile and shifting in his seat with excitement. Of course, that was before today, in which his ever present smile was replaced with a strange frown of stress and anger, and his excited fidgeting was done out of nerves.
The whole journey to Stark Tower consisted of Peter sitting in his seat, sweating so hard he was beginning to feel the leather heat up underneath him. To his right sat Tony Stark himself, refusing to look at him or say a word and opting instead to gaze out the window. With his head turned and his shades on, it was impossible for Peter to know what he was thinking, but he had a good guess on how he felt at the moment.
When the car came to a stop, Stark still didn't say a word, but Peter knew to follow him into the building. He had let himself forget in the security of the dark limo windows, but now that he was following Tony like a lost kid in front of everyone at Stark Industries, he was painfully reminded of the state of his suit. His mask was gone and various tears pierced the fabric along his shoulders and sides, however the most notable damage was the shredded sleeve of his right arm.
The glove held onto his hand by three fingers, and his palm was almost completely showing. Dried blood caked the frilled edges where the cut was made, and the skin underneath was still red from the injury. Unfortunately it did nothing to hide the bittersweet name forever marking his skin. He had made sure to keep it relatively out of sight as far as Mr. Stark was concerned, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he found out now.
Peter thought he would feel better in the elevator, away from the prying eyes of various Avengers agents and supervisors, but it was worse. Mr. Stark still had his shades on, and after pressing the button to the top, he turned to face the closed doors and stared ahead with a blank expression the whole way up. The sheer awkwardness and tenseness was enough to drive Peter insane. He almost wanted Stark to just yell at him instead of playing the silent game.
He got his wish when the doors opened to Stark's floor. Peter had never actually been in Tony Stark's lab before, so everything lying on the floor and glowing on variously messy tables should have at least distracted him a bit, but instead his eyes were glued to the back of Stark's shoulders.
"What did I tell you about him?" His voice makes Peter jump a bit. It's calm and deep, but the anger lacing his words does not pass his attention. Before he can answer, Stark raises his hand, "Don't tell me what I said. I know what it was, but you obviously don't remember, didn't hear me, or just didn't care to listen. Which one was it?"
Silence. Peter swallows and shakily says, "Am I actually supposed to answer this time?"
Mr. Stark doesn't appreciate the sarcasm, and whips around to finally glare at him from behind his shades. The whites of his eyes are just noticeable above the lenses, and it adds to his superior look. "Do you think this is a game?! I thought you grew out of this, Peter!"
There he is, talking to Peter like he was a kid. His ears turn red and he manages to control the shakiness in his voice, "I did! And you let me keep this suit and be Spiderman, too. I thought that meant I could make my own decisions from time to time."
"Not unless I say otherwise! It's not because you have a fancy suit and some powers that you hold all the answers to life, Peter. It's is bigger than that- you're just too young to realize it."
"Don't you think dodging bullets and taking in criminals gives a little life experience?"
"Not with things like this! There is a huge difference between cleaning the streets of amateurs versus meeting up with legendary killers in secret!" Stark is red in the face now, and it's obvious that he is trying to contain himself. Under normal circumstances, Peter would have recognized this control, no matter how small it was, and would have tried to end the conflict as soon as possible. He was not one to fight, especially with people like Tony Stark, but the subject of their altercation made him just as angry. He was done being surprised, for he was used to Wade stirring up different emotions in him by now.
"It wouldn't have to be a secret if you tried to take some time to listen to me! I was nearly an Avenger. You asked me to be one, don't forget it- doesn't that mean you should trust me and have normal conversations instead of-"
"Instead of what, Peter? Letting you do whatever you want with people you don't understand?"
Peter took a step closer to Tony, his hand resting on the edge of a table to grip the side until his knuckles turned white. "Like you understand him better than I do. If that were true, you wouldn't be so quick to judge him."
Peter expected Stark to immediately yell a comeback at him, or pull up more incriminating files and documents on the mercenary like the last time they talked about him. However, much to his surprise, he did the opposite. A strange and twisted smile had spread across the older man's features, and he nearly threw his head back to give his lungs more room to let out a stream of mocking laughter. It made Peter's face burn hotter, but he remained completely still as he watched Stark fall into sarcastic hysteria, still gripping the desk to stop himself from moving around too much.
"So, you understand the situation, you understand him, better than me? Me, who has been on this earth for more than double the time you've been alive? Fine, Peter. What makes you think you know him better than me." Peter opened his mouth, eager to testify, but Stark interrupted him before he could even breath in for the words. "Do you know every mission he has been involved in? Do you know where he gets supplied, equipped, who his other allies are and where he goes at the end of each day?"
Peter tried again, but Stark began first again, "What about the man he was before he even touched his suit for the first time, hmm?" He snickered like this was all a joke, and he was teasing him like a father teases their son about a school crush, although there was a layer of something akin to cruelty underneath it all. He wanted to make sure Peter got the message and came to his senses, the boy knew that, but he could not help but build unspoken arguments and defenses for Wade in his chest, and struggled to keep him mouth shut to let Stark finish. "Do you know how old he is, if he has family, what he does in his spare time with the money he makes?"
Peter did not like where this was going.
"Do you know if there has ever been someone else?"
His fingernails were digging into the desk, and his shoulders were shaking. Still, he maintained eye contact with Stark's blue eyes that seemed to become colder with every word. His business like smile was on his face, dripping with patronizing attitude.
"Do you even have the faintest clue on where he is right now?"
"I don't have to know!" Peter found himself almost screaming with a tone of strained anguish he did not know he was capable of. Even Tony seemed to jump for a moment at the sudden outburst, but remained just in front of Peter. "All I have to know is that he is alive, and that he is willing to be a better person for me. I've seen it- he doesn't kill people when I'm around. He's around every corner, ready to help me with my work. I used to feel small under that watch, but now I know that he doesn't do it for fun or out of some duty to a kid. He does it because he cares, and he worries!"
While Peter had been talking, Tony Stark's smile had wilted into a blank expression. His eyes were as unreadable as if they were still blocked by his trademark shades, which had been discarded on a different desk just behind him long ago. He still held a firm gaze with Peter's own eyes, which were becoming blurry with anxiety and emotion.
"Do you honestly think that him being an ally means you can forget everything about who he was before?"
"Deadpool, Wade, is more than just an ally." Peter held up that pathetically clothed arm up so that Tony could see the tender skin on the underside. There, amidst the agitated pink skin and the ripped suit sleeve were the curved words that spelled the cursed name they fought over, "He's my soulmate."
For the first time since they had entered the room, Tony Stark looked away from Peter. His calloused hand had come up to cover his eyes and dishevel the edge of his hair in the process, causing a few strands to fall forwards. He stood like that for a moment, and while he did, the room was deathly silent. Peter could hear his own breathing and his heart beating in his chest, but he doubted the other man could.
The coat of quietness was violently cut when Stark made a strangled noise that could be interpreted as either a disbelieving laugh or the beginnings of a sob. When his hand moved away from his eyes, now red and gleaming in the dim light, Peter knew it was the later.
"That doesn't make a difference," Tony said in a broken voice, his eyes still on the floor next to peter's feet. In the blink of an eye though, his fist hit the desk where his shades were, barely missing them in the process, and he turned to fully face the teen. "Soulmates don't mean shit, because my soulmate left me!" He swallowed to cure the crack in his voice, "He left me Peter, after being my ally for years he left me for someone who tried to kill him multiple times. Do you want to know why I wasn't good enough? It was because history went deeper than love, and there was nothing me or my soul could do about it!"
Peter stood rigid for a while, trying to process Mr. Stark's bare emotion laid out in front of him as the older man held the tears in his eyes and tried to keep the pressure in his chest contained, lest he audibly cry again. He knew that at this point, there was no winning, but that did not mean there had to be losing either.
As he turned to leave, he cast a glance over his shoulder and said, "I'm sorry it didn't work." he bit his lip in thought, then finished, "That doesn't mean we won't work, too." The automatic doors swished with speed as they opened for Peter, and he left, torn suit and singed hair still showing.
Tony Stark would stand in his labs with his stuffy suit still on for the next hour, not bothering to take it off and look at the name that used to bring him comfort, knowing he would find nothing but clean scars from lasered skin in its place.