Just a spideypool promtdrabble. Hope you like. Cross-posted on my tumblr.

Peter was ridiculously nervous. But he got nothing on Wade, he decided, as he glanced at the hooded figure walking stiffly next to him. Wade's hands were hidden in his pockets, even though Peter's were hanging expectantly on his sides. It was a rather cold evening, but Peter didn't bring his gloves, hoping they would at least hold hands. People held hands on their first date, right?

"Uh, it's cold, huh?" Peter tried softly. There was only so much awkward silence he could stand.

"Yeah" Wade mumbled into his scarf.

"Too bad I, uh, don't have my gloves…"

Peter face-palmed himself mentally. What was he even opening this stupid mouth of his for! He was going to scare Wade off even before they reached the cinema! He risked a glance in Wade's direction, and discovered he was looking at Peter's hand, brows furrowed.

"You should put them in your pockets" Wade suggested, oh so helpfully.

Peter huffed and forced his stupid numb hands into his stupid cold pockets. All of this was stupid. He should have known Wade went out with him out of pity or something. No, no, it wasn't true. Wade would never do something like that. Maybe he was a bit of an immature and selfish asshole, despite being three years older, but he would never do anything to hurt Peter. They were friends.

The rest of the way to the movies was awkward again, but Wade seemed to relax once they sat in the back row and he could take of his jacket and scarf. When he was partly turned to Peter, hanging his jacket behind him, Peter smiled hesitantly. Wade offered this crooked grin of his that Perter loved so much, and turned back to the screen. Peter refused to the same, eyes fixed on the profile of Wade's scarred face, illuminated by the blue light of the screen. He remembered the day Wade had told him about the accident, two years ago. They were sitting on Peter's roof talking about Wade's pet spiders, when suddenly Peter blurted out the question, the awkward thirteen year old he was. He was about to apologize and flee, when Wade just… told him. His father came home drunk, he said, fell asleep with a cigarette still burning, and Wade didn't wake up in time, end of story. Wade was the only one who survived, but most of his body was cover in burn scars now. Peter didn't mind. Like, at all. Most of the time, he didn't even see the scars. All he saw was Wade's deep blue eyes he wanted to stare into, and his cheekbones he wanted to touch, and his lips he wanted to kiss… He felt himself blush, and moved his eyes onto the screen. They didn't talk much during the movie. Sometimes Wade would comment on some particularly violent death, and then Peter would go on about some inaccuracies that bothered him. It was nice, really nice. Suddenly, Peter felt the urge to touch Wade, so he moved his hand to lace their fingers together. But Wade jerked his hand away and reached for his phone with an apologetic smile. Peter didn't try again.

. . .

"Let's go that diner across the street" Peter suggested once they were outside.

"Uh…" Wade awkwardly grunted into the damned scarf. "No, let's stay outside, take a walk or something…"

"But I'm cold and hungry, Wade."

"We could eat tacos in the park…"

Peter released an annoyed huff. He really couldn't take it anymore. Something was off, and he needed to know what, so he could fix it.

"What is your problem, Wade? What's with the sudden fear of closed spaces? You were okay in the cinema. What's wrong with the diner?"

Wade fidgeted for a second before blurting out something about lights.

"What was that?"

"Lights. The diner is really bright. The cinema… wasn't."

Peter could see Wade cringe at his astonishing lack of eloquence even under the hood and scarf.

"Why? What's wrong with light? Do you have a pinkeye or something? Wade, are you okay? Why didn't you say anything?"

Peter stopped talking when he realized Wade was looking at him like he was crazy. He run his hand through his hair and sighed. He took a step closer and lifted his head to look Wade in the eyes.

"Wade what's wrong?" Peter almost whined. "Tell me, please. Because you wouldn't touch me and I feel like tonight was torture for you and I don't know what I did wrong and I just-"

"Torture?" Wade huffed. "Peter, are you an idiot? I still can't believe you asked me out! That you went out in public with me!"

"What? What are you talking about, we are in public together all the time."

"Yeah, but not like that! We hang out with Weasel and Bob, and sometimes Gwen! I… I don't want people to see you are with me…"

"Wade, I don't care what people think-"

"Well I do! I don't want people to pity you!"

And then something in Peter snapped. He had had it. Wade was being simply ridiculous.

"Now listen to me, Wade Wilson! People pity me for lots of reasons! They pity me because of what happened to Uncle Ben, they pity me because Flash Thompson stuffs me in my locker every day, they pity me because I'm a skinny little unpopular nerd, and guess what?! I. Don't. Care. And I will certainly not care if they pity me because I have someone who makes me happy!"

He huffed an exasperated breath, and reached for Wade's hood, yanking it of his head. Wade was too dumbfounded to protest, so Peter started tugging on the scarf.

"God, I hate this scarf" he muttered as he took Wade's face in his hands. "God, I wanted to touch these cheekbones…"

He closed his eyes, letting a relieved sigh. When he opened them, Wade was breathing heavily, looking like a deer in the headlights. Peter ran both of his thumbs over Wade's cheekbones, and smiled softly. His eyes dropped to Wade's lips involuntarily and he swallowed.

"I want to kiss these lips too…" he whispered, awkwardly letting go of Wade's face and stepping back. "But first let's go to that diner so I can stare into these deep blue eyes."

Wade looked confused, but he took Peter's extended hand anyway, so Peter counted that as a win.