() whitebr /
{} yellowbr /
' ' Wade directing internal thoughts to them

Unlike the comics where the yellow white are outside voices he can hear in his head, in this they are facets of his personality that have splintered due to trauma. It is based off how a friend described his own voices and not something I have personally had to deal with, so any views from people who have had to deal with similar are welcome. No insult is meant to those folks.


Wade's POV
The first thing he notices as he wakes up is the fact he is surprisingly comfortable, in minimum amount of pain, and warm. Since those three things never happen to him at one time or actually ever that he can remember in recent years when he is first waking up from getting killed unless he has been caught by someone who wants to run experiments on him. His fight or flight, though more of the fight response, flares to life.

Almost immediately a familiar voice is there, just outside his line of vision, gentle and crooning, "Wade? It's alright. Just relax, you're in my apartment, you're safe, promise."

He just about growls as he sits up, pushing the bedding off, and blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he looks around. It's a nice apartment, not too big, with plenty of window space and they seem to be higher up. Who the hell would carry him to this level? As his eyes sweep the room, they fall on a rather pixie like young man perched on the arm of the sofa that the futon he is seated on is part of.

When the cold air hits his skin, he gasps, head jerking to look down and realizing he is only wearing that blanket and his underwear. What the fuck? Where's his suit? Where's his mask? Why the fuck is he laying on a futon in nothing but underwear and bedding? The pixie must be like Matt, 'cause there is no way he could stand looking at him without having issues with his scars. No one has ever just accepted them.

A familiar smile curves the pixie's lips, "Feeling better?"

He knows the voice, has heard it millions of times, in millions of situations, as a foe, a friend, and an ass-kicking partner.

"You didn't," he growls, having a pretty good idea of who the pixie is, dragging the blankets up around himself and glaring for all he is worth.

{He's fucking hot!}

(Younger than we thought though. I know we're demented but does that make it worse?)

"Shut it!" he growls under his breath, really not wanting to listen to them right now. He has to figure out how the fuck he got here, and how to forget it all. Right now. He won't risk who he is pretty sure that is.

{How sure? You just thought he was like Matt and seeing but not seeing.}

(He has a point, you did think that.)

"Both you shut up," he snaps, wanting to figure this out, not listen to them.

That smile just quirks a bit, but nothing comes out of the pixie's mouth, at least not then.

The pixie does a flip, landing on his feet, and leaves the room without ever commenting or the smile fading. A few minutes later the pixie returns with a large plate of pancakes in one hand and sides in the other.

As he approaches the futon, the pixie comments, "My healing always makes me hungry, Steve and Logan have both said their healing makes them hungry, so I am guessing the same applies to you."

"Spidey!" he just about hisses from his spot within the blankets, "That was the stupidest thing you ever did."

Shaking his head, the younger man disagrees with him, "No it wasn't. I mean, be honest here Wade, you probably could have figured out my name and how I look anytime if you wanted. I might not like your job, but you're good at it." Pausing to flash him a bright smile, setting one of the plates down closer to him, the pixie frowns as if considering something before shaking his head slightly. "Peter," Spidey remarks, his smile returning but becoming gentle, a warm look in his eyes, "like this the name's Peter."

Why does he have a warm look in his eyes? Spidey shouldn't be smiling or looking at him like that!

(Definitely crazy, no other explanation, we should definitely keep him.)

As he growls low in his throat, Spidey inquires, "The boxes being loud today?" Turning slightly towards the kitchen area and slinging out a thin web, the pixie continues, "Now what would you prefer: pancakes, which are not nearly as good as yours, or these side dishes? It's too early for tacos."

"Never too early for taco," he grumbles in response, eyeing the plates.

Snorting, the pixie pulls the web back, revealing a napkin with silverware.

He eyes the offering of food, glancing between the food and the pixie. His baby boy was a pixie. Who would have guessed? Definitely not him. Why had his baby boy done this? Spidey knows how much he didn't want to show his face or see the younger man's. That he worries he might do something stupid with that information. That he wants Spidey safe. So why would he do this? It doesn't make sense.

(Maybe he is crazy as us?)

{We're pretty fucked up, I don't think he is that fucked up. Maybe he has a danger kink.}

(Well that's a given. We've seen, hell ridden along with, him when he is moving through the city. That must require some danger kink.)

"Shut up," he mutters, closing his eyes and focusing on the boxes, 'Quiet, I need to figure out what to do.'

(Well he isn't running, flinching, or blind. I say we keep him!)

{We could, he's so flexible, sex would probably be loads of fun!}

Groaning, he rubs a hand across his face. He's trying to ignore the fact that his nasty skin is visible, that his baby boy actually saw and touched it, and that he now has Spidey's beautiful pixie face in person, he is sure his crush is going to bloom into something far bigger. He doesn't want to fall in love with him, there is no way that this, whatever this is, is going to last. So he is not going to call his baby boy by his name. He'll keep calling him Spidey or baby boy or even pixie since he looks like a pixie, but not Peter.

"Yes," he grumbles, "They think I should keep you."

The pixie's smile seems to grow, mischief filling his eyes, "Well that's not a bad idea. Actually I wanted to talk to you about that."

(Wait, what? He doesn't think that's a bad idea? Did he hit his head? What does he want to talk about?)

{See even your baby boy thinks keeping him is good. We get to keep him, he's ours!}

"Spidey, Petey, that's not a good idea, you have to realize that's not a good idea." He tells the younger man seriously, or as serious as he gets. "I mean seriously, we disagree about work and morals, and I'm insane, just ask anyone, they'll tell you."

"Work: sometimes, though I have noticed the cut back in 'let's kill them jobs' for you in the last year or so as you hang out with me more. Morals: well except the killing of folks I think we get along pretty well there. As for insane, that's part of your charm. Besides I am sure there are folks who call me insane for my swinging through the city on thin thread."

Still smiling, Peter offers him the silverware, "Come on Wade, eat up, you can be pissed and argue with me afterwards."

(He's offering to argue?)

{Keep him! Keep him! Keep him!}

Spidey has a point, he thinks, he has cut back his killing missions. It made his baby boy smile, so it wasn't that hard to find other missions to do. Not when he loved seeing his baby boy's lips curve with that pleased smile. But this, this is insane. Sure, they hadn't discussed the seeing each other's face or him knowing Peter's name in months, he thought the subject was closed. So why had his baby boy done this now?

"Why?" he demands as he decides that coming out of the blankets a bit to eat is not going to hurt anything. It's too late to keep Peter from seeing his hideous form.

Snagging a slice of bacon, the younger man munches on it before replying, "Easy enough, you were injured and I was not taking you back to that pigsty that you call an apartment to heal." Shrugging, the pixie continues, "I brought you home instead. Debated about sofa, bed, or futon, went with the futon. Decided I didn't want to be cleaning up dried blood, and noticed that your chest was not healing anyways. Had fun removing the leathers and spandex, they were destroyed, quite literally and thoroughly. Actually need to go fetch some clothes for you since I am sure you don't want to be stuck in just the sheet though I appreciate the view." Giving a small shake of his head, Peter mutters, "Sorry, off topic." Smiling again, his voice picks up again, "Figured I would rather you be pissed about me violating your privacy then have you stay in more pain then you had to. Did a little research about mental health and any ways I could be of help if you want the help."

He stares at Spidey like he is spouting some unknown language. He must have been hearing things. There is no way that he heard that right. Peter didn't say what he thinks he did. No way could such a beautiful, pixie person think he was good looking, not without his leathers or something, he's too ugly. It's not possible. Yeah, today is a good day, at least it feels like one which is a shock considering he was dead, and normally waking up from being dead leads to bad days, but that is not the point!.

Shaking his head a bit and knocking the sheet thrown over his head loose so his scars are showing again, he tugs the plate of pancakes closer and accepts the silverware to eat them.

'What am I going to do?' he thinks at the boxes, hoping they have something useful to add to the conversation. He doesn't want to keep looking at Peter 'cause he knows sooner or later he is going to see disgust in those beautiful eyes. There is no way to avoid that. He's disgusting and he is well aware of it.

{Keep him! He's totally worth keeping!}

(You can't see it, but I am nodding in agreement. Who else would rather have you mad at them then have you in pain?)

'That's a good point,' he thinks, "but still I'm an insane merc with nothing to offer."

A light hand barely touches his shoulder, drawing his attention back to pixie Peter, "Don't you think I should be the judge of what you have to offer or not?"

His eyes widen in shock, he was thinking wasn't he? Not speaking aloud, how did his baby boy hear him?

"Yes, you muttered the last point, and if I didn't have keener than average hearing I probably would have missed it, but I heard it, so I am answering it." Peter replies, apparently reading his question in his face since he knows he didn't say anything with his mouth full of pancakes.

The pixie swipes another slice of bacon and nibbles on it.

"You shouldn't have done that," he grumbling repeats. The Deadpool part of his nature wants to be cocky and self sure. All the things he shows when he is wearing his suit and mask. The Wade part of his nature is too self-conscious of everything wrong with himself to be like that and really would like to just hide until he can do something, anything for this not to have happened. There is no way he will be able to keep the friendship that he's had worked hard for over the last few years.

(Five years, three months, and fourteen days since you met him. Good going. Longest relationship and you blew it trying to do the right thing.)

"Shut up," he mutters before taking another bite of the pancake. These pancakes are better than he expected. "Thank you," he mumbles a bit louder.

"You're welcome Wade, I hope they are alright." Peter tells him gently.

"They're fine," he mumbles before taking another one.

(So he can cook, why is he so slender then?)

{Because that fine ass burns it all off swinging around on those surprisingly strong webs. Hey! Web sex, you should totally get him to do that!}

'Shut up!' he snarls at the voices in his head.

They eat the rest of the meal in relative quiet, from time to time, he watches out of the corner of his eye as Peter snitches little bites of food off the second plate, but he leaves most of the food alone. He's still hungry when the plates are empty, but doesn't want to say anything. He knows that Spidey has a far smaller income than him and probably can't afford to give him the amount of food he needs after regenerating so much. Not that he plans to say something.

Of course his body has to disagree with that, and his stomach rumbles loudly.

"Still hungry?" the pixie queries.

Biting his dry lip, he doesn't actually want to answer, but again his stomach rumbles, so he just nods.

"Alright, I'll go make more food, I wasn't sure that was going to be enough." Standing, Peter scoops up the empty plates, and heads towards the door to the kitchen. A moment later he pops out with empty hands and comments, "If you look in the bottom drawer of my dresser, there might be some sweats you could fit, just thought about that outfit that I was given as a gag gift my last year of high school. Dunno if they will fit, but they might, at least it might be more comfortable for you then that blanket. I want you to be comfortable."

Before he has a chance to answer, Peter vanishes back into the kitchen and he hears him rooting through the fridge, opening doors and drawers and pulling stuff out.

He glances around the room again, trying to decide whether he wants to go check or not.

(He did give you permission to look in the drawer.)

{Go snoop! Go Snoop!}

"I'm not going to snoop through baby boy's things," he mutters to himself as he gets up, making sure the blankets stay tight around himself. At least the blanket is big enough to cover his entire body. Actually, why is this blanket so big? Does Peter have that big of a bed? Curiously, despite the fact he had just declared he was not going to snoop, he starts looking around, not actually opening anything, but paying close attention to all of the details that he can see. When he is done with the living room, he goes to the other door that is open and peers in, spotting the fact this is the bedroom and there is a bathroom through the side door.

"Go ahead and use the shower if you want, I know sponge baths don't match running water," he hears his baby boy call out from the kitchen.

(He gave us a sponge bath and still doesn't mind the scars? The other us is right, we should keep him. I cannot think of anyone else who would act the same.)

{Sex! We can totally have sex with him! He's as messed up as us. Let's do it!}

(Slowly here, we don't want to scare him off.)

{He's already seen our worthless, nasty, ugly mug and hasn't run.}

"Shut up," he growls, trying to focus on the room instead. "Bottom drawer right?"

(Yes, bottom drawer.)

{Look through the rest. We can sniff his panties! See if he has any cute dresses! Ass like that probably has a few dresses somewhere!}

"No," he mutters, "Not going through baby boy's drawers."

{Piece of shit.}

(Ignore that, you're doing the right thing.)

He still flinches at the voices bickering in his head, he wants to do the right thing here. Kneeling beside the dresser, he tugs only the bottom drawer open, eyes widening when he sees all the sweats in there. There is something that might fit him in that? He almost doesn't want to look because it's so orderly and he is sure he would make a mess of it. Still, he doesn't like only having underwear and a blanket as clothing.

Reaching out, he shuffles through the clothing until he spots some that have the same fold pattern but cover a larger area. Pulling it out and unfolding, he glances over it and sighs in relief, they might be big enough. Straightening, he heads to the bathroom, glancing around at the slightly larger than his bathroom.

It's neat and orderly like everything else in the apartment. There are two large fluffy towels hanging by the shower-bath, a collection of soaps and creams sitting on the counter, a luffa hanging in the shower with a washcloth right beside it, and a note stuck to the towel over the mirror. Why is there a note on a towel over the mirror?

-Wade,
I remember you mentioning you dislike your reflection, so I put an extra towel over it. Also use whichever towel hanging up you want, both are fresh. I also remembered that we discussed the fact your skin gets irritated easily. I didn't know if you were ever going to use my shower or not, however there is a small collection of lotions and creams designed to lessen pain and itchiness. I may have gone a little overboard one night when I couldn't sleep and was in the lab. If any work tell me and I will make more.
Peter-

He blinks, shocked because they had that conversation two years ago, maybe longer.

(Two year, four months, and twenty one days. We were eating dinner together atop the building on Fifth Street.)

Why does the voice in his head know that? Should that worry him?

It is such a sweet thing. He never would have guessed that Spidey cared so much. Why does he care so much? They're friends. Sort of. He's pretty sure its pity on baby boy's side.

(Is it though? Is it really? Do you honestly think he would let you into his home, make lotion and cream just for you, and tell you his name if he didn't think you were friends?)

{Keep him! We could be having regular sex or getting our brains fucked out!}

"Will you two shut up, I am still trying to think," he grumbles as he sort of folds the blanket and sheet, laying them on the empty space on the counter next to the sweats. Glancing at the mirror, he is actually grateful it is covered. He doesn't have to deal with looking at himself. Right now he has enough on his plate without remembering exactly what sort of monster he looks like.

Turning the water on, he lets it heat up while he stares at it, still thinking.

"Peter," he murmurs trying the name out on his tongue, "Petey." Why did the pixie let him know his name or what he looks like? He doesn't understand. It's a risk. He's a risk. He could hurt his baby boy without ever trying. Hasn't Spidey learned that in the time they have shared together?

{He gave you a sponge bath! Too bad you were a nasty piece of dead garbage at the time. Probably the only time he's ever going to touch your disgusting self.}

"Weren't you just telling me we could have sex?" he mutters angrily, thinking that this new thing is probably truer.

{Yes but its pity sex. Still better than our worthless self deserves.}

(Don't listen to him, he is showing all indications of actually caring about us. Don't fuck it up by being stupid.)

{We're nothing but a piece of worthless garbage. Nobody gives a damn about us.}

"Stop. No more. Just stop." He mutters as he squeezes his eyes shut and climbing into the shower, closing the curtain behind himself. "No more. Not today. I know I am worthless. But stop. Just for a little bit."

His hands wash his body mechanically as he mutters to himself.

A soft knock at the bathroom door pulls his attention away from the voices in his head. More yellow than white.

"Wade, the foods is almost done, coffee or juice?" he hears his pixie ask.

"Coffee," he answers forcing himself to speak loud enough to be heard over the water.

What the fuck? Normally he is loud enough to be heard over an explosion!

{You don't want him realizing how shitty we are!}

(You're trying to be polite. Polite is good.)

"Okay, I'll go make some for you, take your time if you want, I'll make sure everything stays warm." Peter tells him before leaving the room without waiting for him answer anything else.

"Shut up," he grumbles again, shifting his focus to finishing washing up.

When he is done, he gets out of the shower. Quickly drying without focusing on the fact his skin isn't peeling as bad as normal or how soft the towel is, or that despite being a little shirt short on him the pants fit fine. Now he just wishes he had some socks, gloves, and a mask. He skips right over the lotions, not because he doesn't want to try, but because he wants to get some food. Afterwards, if his baby boy doesn't mind, he will use the lotion.

Returning to the living room with the blankets and dressed in the mostly comfortable sweats, he nervously stops just outside the bedroom door. He could grab his boots and leave right now. Escape before Spidey realizes what a mistake he's made

He is still in the middle of debating it when Peter exits the kitchen with more plates of food, a bright and warm smile when he sees him.

This has to be a hallucination. I have to still be dead. He thinks as he stares at that expression that cannot be real.


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