A/N: Written in timestamps, and it's slightly weird, sorry. Song is by Billie Eilish. Reviews appreciated and loved, and I hope you enjoy!
Burning cities and napalm skies,
15 flares inside your ocean eyes, those ocean eyes.
Peter has known Deadpool for two years when he learns his name.
The wind is quiet. Peter notes that this is unusual, something different. There's an unfamiliar stillness, a piece of silence in the busy city. It's usually loud, but at this dizzying height, there is only him and the wind. Not even the birds venture so far.
They'd already eaten whatever Deadpool had brought- Tacos, Peter's brain supplies- and had fallen into the silence after they had talked for a while. The cool Saturday light is golden, spreading rays through the crack in the clouds. It's oddly serene, Peter notices, even if he is sitting across from a known killer and mercenary.
Even Deadpool is quiet, reflecting, ever-running mouth reserved, as though this is something sacred. He had rolled his own mask down a while ago, but Peter hadn't bothered yet. Peter shifts, sitting cross-legged on the edge, head held up by the butt of his hand, looking at him silently. He splits the eternity waxing between them.
"What do you think of the new Ghostbusters?" he asks, mostly because the silence is unnerving and starting to affect him. A silent Deadpool is a curious Deadpool, he decides.
The wind blows, and a leaf, probably from nearby Central Park, colored red and with smooth edges, blows past. Peter catches it for no reason other than he can. He studies it for a moment, then releases, and it flows away, buoyed by the river of wind. It's close to the color of the spandex encasing his body. It twists, and the dark red is like Deadpool's leather.
Deadpool glances up, and Peter can see his mouth moving under the mask, apparently silently arguing by the way his eyebrows are creasing. Then he talks.
"Wade Wilson." It's almost blurted, and it's sudden enough that Peter is taken aback. Deadpool takes off his mask quickly, fists bunching at his sides.
"What?"
"My name is Wade Winston Wilson," Deadpool tells him, like the words are pulled off his tongue with a hook, like they're burning him inside and he has to get them out. Peter's eyes widen behind the spandex and his mouth drops open. It's unexpected and oddly intimate, even if it is just a name. A name for the man behind the mask. Something warm fills his chest, oddly blissful. Dead- Wade can apparently sense his confusion.
"You don't have to tell me yours," Wade says quickly, raising his hands and holding them up like he's surrendering. Peter recovers and stands up. Wade mimics him. Peter wants to give him something, even if he has really nothing to give. Trust is something Peter still struggles with.
Figuring his first name won't do any harm, he holds out his hand to a oddly bashful Wade. "Hi, Wade. My name is Peter."
Wade's eyes are brown, like Peter's own, but darker. More expressive, and even if he's scarred, impressively so- he'd mentioned that it was everywhere- it suits him, in a way. His eyes contain what his face cannot, and are unreadable. Like they're a vault that holds back the entirety of what Wade is. His reply is somewhat shaky, but still firm.
"Nice to meet you, Peter."
Something goes unsaid, and Peter understands it anyway. He lets it go.
The wind blows.
-.-.-
Careful creature
Made friends with time
He's seen Deadpool injured many times. It's almost worrying. But he always knew that Wade would get back up, be able to keep fighting, even if he's holding back intestines in one hand and slicing with a katana in the other. The knife spins through the air and embeds itself in his side. Something arcs through Peter's chest, and it's hot and bright.
Peter shouts something, probably a curse, and webs Green Goblin to a wall, the same bright feeling spreading through his body. The Goblin makes a sickening crack when he hits the brick, his head slamming back. He's momentarily dazed, and Peter takes the time to go check on Wade.
"Much as I love your righteous anger thing and checking on me, Spidey," Deadpool coughs, blood spilling lazily down his side as he holds it, "I think he's leaving."
Peter curses and spins, and sure enough, the Goblin has somehow cut himself free. He flies away on his hoverboard, shouting about "until next time".
"I think he punctured a lung," Wade informs him, casually pulling out the blade. Red gushes down his side and Peter can already see the wound closing. "Maria's?"
"Maria's," Peter agrees, and for no discernable reason, at least to him, he webs them both to the taco truck. Wade doesn't mention his concern again, only babbling about Finding Dory.
Peter, like always, lets it go.
-.-.-
I've never fallen from quite this high,
Falling into your ocean eyes.
They've known each other two years and six months when Peter decides to unmask himself. In true Parker fashion, he does it just as Wade is taking a bite of his taco.
"My name is Peter Benjamin Parker," he says, pulling off his mask and taking a shaky breath. His unwrapped taco lies near his foot on the rooftop and he eyes it quickly before looking back up at Wade.
Wade immediately chokes on his taco and hacks it back up. He'd taken off his mask before they'd started eating, so Peter can see the widening of his eyes and furrow of his brow. The omnipresent scars shift with his expression in a vaguely fascinating way. "What the-"
"Sorry," Peter rubs the back of his neck self-consciously and looks down. "I kind of sprang it on you."
Wade mutters to himself, probably to his boxes. Peter tunes it out in favor of focusing on the blood rushing to his ears.
"Well, damn, if you'd have told me you were hot, I might have never told you my name," Wade jokes, "but thanks, Petey-pie."
"Sure," Peter says, slightly embarrassed. He takes the joke for what it is, a way of moving past the awkwardness.
"So, Pete, what do you do for a living?" Wade asks.
"I'm an employee at Stark Industries, and there's so much there, oh my god," Peter begins. Wade laughs and that now-familiar feeling is there again. He tells Wade about the lab, the experiments he's working on, how annoying Tony can be when he hasn't slept in three days. It's refreshing, really, venting and laughing and talking with Wade.
The feeling doesn't dissipate, even when they each take their leave and Peter webs back to his apartment. Peter, for once, doesn't let it go. He holds onto it.
-.-.-
I've been walking through,
A world gone blind,
Can't stop thinking of your diamond mind.
He's known Wade for two years and eight months before their relationship shifts. It's fleeting and fast, the shift, how Peter realizes how much he loves to be near Wade. It's almost as though he wakes up one morning and figures it out in a split second, pieces falling into place.
By this time, he's already had Wade in his apartment, slept near him while the other beat yet another level in Angry Birds while singing "Dancing Queen", listened to his rambling and jokes while they play Call of Duty for eight hours on a Saturday.
He fell in love with Wade Winston Wilson. The thought has him smiling gently.
Wade nudges his shoulder as he devours another taco. His eyes are twinkling lightly, pretty in the evening light. His mask is sitting by his thigh and Peter is on his right, their feet swinging over the edge.
"You good, Petey?"
For reasons he definitely knows, Peter sets down his taco, and when Wade swallows and looks over at him questioningly, leans over and kisses him.
It's soft and tastes like refried beans. Peter pulls away, just in time to see Wade drop his taco, startled.
"Son of a-" Wade swears, and Peter laughs at him. "You can't just spring that on a man when he's about to eat a taco!"
"So you were fine with that?" Peter decides to interpret it.
"Well, duh," Wade tells him. "More than fine. Green light special."
He starts to ramble, and Peter kisses him again just to shut him up. "Peter!"
"What?" he asks innocently. Wade shakes a fist at him mockingly before kissing Peter this time, just as soft and sweet. Then the mood changes, and he holds Peter's face between his hands as he kisses him, something just as sweet but intoxicating and feverish. Peter relishes it.
"You wanna go to Pound-town?" Wade asks him when they break apart. Peter punches him in the arm for that before smirking.
"I believe the question is do you wanna go to Pound-town?"
"Hell, yes," Wade tells him, and Peter gathers up their things and shoves on his mask before pushing Wade's own at him.
He swings them away to his apartment, laughing at some stupid joke Wade shouts in his ear.
The feeling stays, and Peter loves it.