When Peter wakes up the sun is still low. There's a warm weight pressed to his back and a heavy arm wound loosely around his chest. He can feel a steady breath on the back of his neck, and it's so warm and so comforting, that he worries for a second that he will fall back to sleep. Instead, he turns around, careful not to wake up Wade, so he can face him. Peter is no longer shocked by Wade's appearance, hasn't been for a long time. It's just a part of him, a surprisingly small part, even more surprisingly easy to ignore. Sure, Wade's not pretty. Not even remotely. But true beauty isn't superficial, is it? You have to look for it inside. In some cases, you just have to dig really, really deep. Peter lets out a sigh bordering on a chuckle and reaches out to touch Wade's forehead. Wade stirs in his sleep and his eyes open slowly. Peter watches him blink away the remnants of sleep and smiles, eyes fixed on Wade's. Peter loves Wade's eyes the most, he thinks. Beautiful deep blue eyes that always express something. Like right now, there's this confusion, as if Wade isn't sure why is he here, or maybe why is Peter here. Then, with realization, comes this mild disappointment that Peter doesn't quite understand. He never really has time to figure it out, as it disappears in a flash, making room for softness that always makes Peter want to look away. He never does. There is something about Wade's eyes that makes Peter want to drown in them, as sappy as it sounds. 'I like your eyes,' Peter tells him. Wade hums sleepily and turns his head to face the ceiling. Peter tries not to feel disappointed. He knows Wade isn't good at taking compliments. Wade is bad at many things. Keeping quiet. Trusting people. Cleaning after himself. Telling pity and compassion apart. But he's great at other things. Making Peter laugh. Making Peter moan. Making pancakes. Killing people. Peter cringes and tries to physically shake the mental image of blood-soaked Wade from his head. It's not working until Wade fixes his eyes back on him. Peter gets pulled into the blue and forgets about everything. He only sees these questioning, mildly amused eyes and feels vulnerable and invincible at the same time. He's at a loss for words for a moment, and then asks 'Why do you always look at me like that in the morning?' Wade's eyes widen slightly and his face closes off before turning away again. Peter untangles himself from Wade's arms and chases these eyes, looking for answers he fears Wade will never give him. Wade lets Peter frame his face with his fingers but looks at him defiantly. 'Why are you always so disappointed?' Peter demands gently. Only then he realizes how afraid of hearing an answer he is. Or rather, how afraid of being rejected he is. And when did that happen? When did Wade become such an important part of his life that losing him scares Peter to death? When did he… fall in love? Some of his internal turmoil must be showing on his face, because Wade's eyes soften again and he reaches to cup Peter's cheek. Peter can't help to but lean into the touch and close his eyes, trying to calm his pounding heart. 'Every night I fall asleep wishing I would finally wake up,' Wade whispers. 'But every morning I realize I'm still living in a dream. That I get to spend another day knowing this can't be real.' Peter's eyes snap open and are met by Wade's, cold and distant for a split of a second, Peter notices. It's like Wade cannot even see when Peter isn't looking at him. When he does, Wade's eyes are a bit sad, but underneath that, there is something Peter couldn't recognize before, but does now. Hope. So he smiles and leans to place a kiss upon Wade's lips. 'I love you,' he hears himself whisper into them.