Daddy Issues, Pt. 1
Gwen wasn't wholly sure why she was getting dressed-up when there wasn't actually anyone to impress.
Maybe because it felt respectful.
Maybe because getting ready kept her busy and distracted.
Whatever the case, she'd curled the blonde hair that hovered over her shoulders, and she had on a bit more make-up than usual. Even though it was stupid; even though it didn't really matter.
It mattered.
She blinked at her reflection a few more moments in the mirror, where she stood in a bra and underwear. She dusted fingers over a splotchy bruise over her ribs, which was still a little sensitive but was already fading and would probably be gone by the time she went to bed. Things had been a little rough the night before, and she'd stayed out longer than usual. She had almost stopped by Wade's to see if he was home -there were a number of other things he might be up to at 2:00am that she didn't want to consider - but had decided against it on the way over.
Gwen had ultimately wanted to be alone.
She knew she was being a wallowing asshole, but she'd embraced it for the night and stayed home tired and sore and sad.
She turned from the mirror and plucked the black pants from her bed to step into and shimmy on. There was a dress tossed on the end of her bed, too, though she'd decide to leave it. She didn't wear dresses all that often, and her dad had never seemed to know what to do with her when she wanted to embrace her more girly side anyway. Pants and flats would suit just fine.
Not that she was sure that he was actually "watching over her" or that visiting his grave to "talk" to him even made any sense whatsoever. But it did feel ...right. Sad but also nice at the same time.
She did like the thought of him watching her and knowing her though. Like maybe it would make up for the way she'd been kind of an asshole after her mom died. Like maybe he'd see her and understand what her secrecy and sneaking had been about. Like he'd see her allegiances and how she spent her nights and be proud of how she'd pulled herself together.
Her phone pinged while she was reaching for her shirt, and she almost ignored it.
She had been screening contact attempts from friends. Well-meaning friends who knew the anniversary of her dad's death because they cared about her and they'd cared for him, too.
So she picked up her phone because she felt bad for being reclusive. Even if she assured Mary Jane that she didn't need company, the other girl would understand and kindly let her be like she had last year. Or maybe she and Betty would show up at her apartment anyway, like the year before that, but they'd only come for a hug and to drop off some food. She didn't have to all-out hide -melodramatic much?
But it wasn't either of her oldest friends shooting her a supportive text. 'STARK' lit the screen when she tapped it.
...did he know what today was? That probably shouldn't be shocking.
But the text she opened just said: 'Tower.'
Shit.
Right now? Why? Was New York really going to fall to pieces today?
Or maybe they wanted her to hop on a jet with them for some even bigger issue ...that happened now and again and was exhilarating (not to mention still flattering to nab an invite).
But right now?
She wanted to stamp her feet childishly, but the impulse was fleeting. Morbid as it may be, her dad wasn't going anywhere.
If he had been there, he would've understood. Of all people, the man who'd pulled long shifts at the precinct, missed tournaments and teachers conferences for work, and who'd come home after particularly bad shifts just to sit down and immediately fall asleep even if she wanted help with homework ...he would get this.
While she shucked her dress pants and scrambled into her suit, she realized life had really come full circle.
Only she crawled out of windows instead of driving squad cars.
She made good time to Avengers Tower, scaling the glass sides by shooting webs progressively higher and leaping upwards-she found crawling the whole thing more tiring. She then nimbly hopped the railing of Stark's penthouse patio, as this was the entrance that she found garnered the least attention.
Gwen came and went fairly often at the tower, though not as much as she once had. If it wasn't immediately Avengers related she'd come through the front doors like a normal citizen. Otherwise she had permission to enter this way to avoid waiting on elevators.
She thought she'd died and gone to heaven back when Stark had first started granting her these liberties. She had idolized him from a young age like any budding nerd, always tuning-out her dad's grumblings about his pomposity. When she'd developed her abilities - thank you field trip to labs where test subjects clearly weren't tracked closely enough -she'd devoted even more attention to him.
These days, she is incredibly grateful to him, and she knows damn well she owes him. Stark had helped her immeasurably with her suits. She never would have managed the updates she had now without him, and that had saved her a lot of pain ...maybe even saved her life. She would always be in his debt for that. Plus, he had kept her secrets when he first found her, and he really had given her some good advice when she was a bit younger and a lot more reckless and angry. He'd been condescending, about it, sure, but the right content had been there, and she'd needed to hear it.
But ...she had tamped-down her hero worship over time. She wasn't stupid, and she knew no one could live up on a pedestal like that forever - not even the famous Iron Man. So she wasn't mad or anything, not really. Real life just wasn't fantasy.
Tony Stark was a good man, but he was a little too smart for his own good and his ego showed it. He was brilliant and powerful and hardly anyone told him no. He'd seen too much and done too much, so to hell with it. He probably deserved the chip on his shoulder. But all of that genius allowed him tunnel-vision, which might be why he still tended to think he could micro-manage her. He'd seemed to miss that Gwen had been holding down her Spider Woman gig for years now. She'd grown up and could make her own decisions without him.
But she was grateful. Definitely grateful.
She would - and did - drop everything to help him and the team.
It was just that she had come to understand the reality of him now, and she accepted it. Deep respect without idolization was possible.
Gwen padded across the sleek balcony patio toward the tinted, automatic doors that would lead inside. She hoped she wouldn't startle Pepper by letting herself in, but she knew that JARVIS would tell her where to meet everyone so she'd only be there a moment.
However, when the glass doors slid open she saw she didn't have to ask the trusted A.I anything. Most of the crew was gathered right there in front of her. Tony Stark looked perfectly at ease, as did Steve Rogers, Agents Barton and Romanoff, and also a man she's never spoken to but has seen: the recently found and re-homed Winter Soldier.
She stopped near the portable drink cart by the doors that she knew for a fact was often put to use during get-togethers out on the patio. She knew because she had been invited to such gatherings. And, yes, partying with The Avengers was still a supper cool reality that sometimes made her laugh and pinch herself ...but what the fuck.
"What's going on?" Gwen took in the room and tugged off her mask, her breathing just a little uneven from the climb.
She saw Natasha cock her head curiously but thought nothing of it. She was busy trying to figure out why she'd been summoned without explanation if there didn't seem to be an emergency.
"Good of you to join. Want a drink?" Tony offered, noting where she now stood.
"No."
"Fine," he held up hands in mock-surrender at her clipped response.
"...did I miss something?" she scanned the room again and then reached into the mesh, double-lined pocket at her thigh for her phone.
Nope, there was no further information in the text that she'd missed.
"Yeah, the proper dress code," he continued, clearly somewhat amused.
"We just wanted a hand," Steve interceded.
"Oh...okay..."
"Yeah, come on and get comfy," Clint suggested.
He was slouched lazily on the couch, no tension or alarm anywhere to be seen. Whatever they wanted clearly wasn't that big of a deal.
"I'm good," she insisted, voice still clipped and annoyed.
She felt like she was being placated; was bad news coming? And why was Mr. Winter Soldier just standing around staring? What were they all doing?
"We didn't mean to put you on-guard; everyone's fine," Steve continued, verifying what she was already figuring out herself. "We just wanted some help around here. We thought maybe you could train with Bucky."
He gestured to his silent friend. Old friends, she'd been informed. Real old. Sergeant James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes. Right. She'd been downloaded.
"What?"
"We've got a lot going on still tracking Hydra personnel and artifacts. Thor's even coming back soon," he sighed. "He's," -he glanced at his pal, who wasn't bothering to speak up himself just yet -"hesitant to join-in on all this right now...and you're one of the few people actually strong enough to train with him..."
"Which is a statement I don't resent at all," Clint droned sarcastically from his seat.
Captain America was calling her strong! That stroked her own ego nicely.
Except that it also fell flat.
"I'm sorry; I'm sure you're nice," she waved a hand at the man in question, then turned back to Steve with narrowed eyes. "Is this a babysitting gig?"
"No," Steve answered.
But Tony said "yes" at the same time.
"Tony," Steve groaned.
"What?" he threw his hands up. "Barnes isn't ready to return to the big leagues again yet, but we also don't want to leave him alone to his own devices all the time ... ..someone's gotta keep him company."
"I can't believe I came here for this..."
She wouldn't cry there. Nope.
Sure wouldn't.
"I'm sorry; were you busy with your second rate newspaper?"
This was one of Tony's favorite gripes, for he couldn't fathom why she'd declined to work for Stark Industries and was, quote, squandering her potential instead.
"Jesus, Stark," Clint slumped further into the couch to settle-in for the usual bickering.
Natasha, as per, was a bit more attentive.
"Where were you going today, Gwen?" her smooth voice slid into the argument.
She'd already assessed the younger woman's appearance, and saw that even though her mask had toussled up her curled hair and marred her make-up job, she'd clearly put more energy into her appearance than usual for something (probably) other than shits and giggles.
"Nowhere."
The way her back went rigid belied this statement, but Natasha just gazed steadily at her. She could wait her out; she'd gotten the truth from more well-trained individuals.
"A date?" Tony laughed, though he tried to stifle it and waved his hands in apology. "Sorry we interrupted. Sorry."
Gwen's blue eyes tore from the red-headed spy to glare at Stark.
"Bye"
"No," he chuckled as she turned. "Stay for that drink. We owe you..."
He had drawn nearer and was reaching for tumblers on the shelves next to her. She shot her hand out to cover the glass he was going for before he even laid a hand on it.
"I already said no."
He rose an unamused eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, covering the Black Sabbath t-shirt. He was the picture of unimpressed, and not that long ago this would've crushed her. That's not what she felt just now, though.
"You sure about that, kid?" his voice was more brusque and business now. "Seems like you could stand to unwind..."
"Jeeze..."
"Maybe you've been staring down back alleys and mom n' pop shops a little too lo-"
"And what the fuck is so wrong with that?" she shouted him down and kicked the drink cart in front of her out of the way hard enough that it slammed into the wall and broke, most of its contents crashing to the floor.
The room shifted into attention while glass tinkled to the floor, and Gwen knew immediately that she should be embarrassed ...but she wasn't. That had felt good.
And she wasn't specifically trying to scare Stark, but she had to give him credit for not stepping back or even flinching. His only visible response was to tick his chin up a little higher. A little haughtier.
"Trust me, I know you're working on global peace level shit and it's amazing; don't I come every time you call?" she thrust a finger at - but not into - his chest. "And I know everything I do is street-level to you, and a waste of my time ...but it matters. If it's not Hydra or SHIELD or whatever you're cooking up in here, then it's not on your radar. But it matters to me, and I'm pretty sure it matters to parents who can buy groceries for their families because I found their mugger and gave them their money back. And it matters to the lady who didn't get raped last night because I got to her in time. It's not alien technology, I know that, but it's real."
His shoulders lost some tension but Stark otherwise didn't acknowledge that she'd spoken. He didn't scoff or argue back, which, to be honest, she'd been expecting.
"Seriously?" she shrugged out her hands.
This was suddenly anticlimactic, and the adrenaline that had surged with her anger was already fading. Again, she knew she should probably be embarrassed - she usually wasn't prone to tantrums. Today, though, her emotions were raw and right on the surface, and he'd poked.
Always poking and prodding.
He'd wanted her to be friendly neighborhood Spider Woman years ago when it had suited him, but now he didn't see it anymore.
"I think you made your point," he responded, tone now devoid of mockery. "Anything else you wanna break? Pepper said I have too much shit."
His concession sucked the wind out of her proverbial sails. Maybe she did want to break more shit, but she wouldn't.
"Sorry about that," she glared at the drink cart as if it had gone all kamikaze completely of its own accord.
The rustling of clothing to her right might have been inaudible to someone else, but she heard it. She also felt the air shift with movement behind her.
Gwen twisted and caught Steve's wrist before he could grab her shoulder. He didn't yank away or continue trying to press forward - because of course he didn't - but he looked sorry. Worried.
She dropped his arm without attitude.
"See you guys."
"Gwen," Natasha's voice stopped her short of the door's sensors.
Turning, she saw the spy was seated on the same chair arm as if she'd not reacted to anything - perhaps she hadn't. Clint, in contrast, had sat forward and watched her now, too.
Her fingers tightened on her mask, feeling an impulse to hide just like Wade.
"Where were you going?" she asked again.
But Gwen wasn't going to cry there. She'd already decided that.
So she did pull her mask on and walked back out to the patio and scaled the ledge to drop out of sight. The freefall caught the air in her chest, letting her pretend that was why she was holding her breath.
She stopped her descent by webbing a window and then let her momentum carry her into a swing to head home.
"Well," Natasha broke the silence left in the penthouse in the younger woman's wake.
"I'll say," Clint stood and stretched.
"You could've left her alone, Tony," Steve scolded quietly.
"Yeah, thank you, Captain Obvious," he snapped and was distracted enough that he didn't acknowledge Clint snort at his easy joke. "JARVIS, do some digging."
"Leave it, Tony," Steve was more exasperated this time.
"No. C'mon - you, too, I guess, RoboCop," Stark waved everyone toward the elevator, passing the now-useless drink cart as he did. "Housekeeping will get that..."
X
When Gwen returned to her room everything was just as she'd left it. She shed her suit and plucked up her dress pants to slide back on while she blinked away tears.
Why did she have to deal with this today? Steve had found Bucky 'Winter Soldier' Barnes weeks and weeks ago - they could have reached out at any other time. Hell, she was pretty sure that on an average day she would have jumped at the chance to spar with someone so infamous. She had, of course, seen the footage of him duking it out with Captain America in D.C. She didn't live under a rock; it would have been sweet to face off with him.
But today it was a nuisance at best and an insult at worst.
"Back alleys and mom n' pop shops," Gwen muttered to herself once she was dressed and stomping down the stairs of her apartment building to head back outside.
Stark sat up in his stupid tower -okay, fine, it was an awesome and advanced tower - but did he ever look out the damn window and realize there were people out there on the streets struggling just to get by? Alien invasions were obviously important, but that wasn't the only threat in the world.
She balled her hands into fists and shoved her way out of her building to find and wave down a taxi. She needed to forget about Stark. He was back in his penthouse, not here. He was not her concern.
The quiet taxi ride sobered Gwen up some. By the time they reached the cemetery she had calmed significantly. Of course that just left her to be sad again, but even that felt more manageable and controllable than her anger had been.
"Thank you ...Dopinder," she spotted the small ID hanging on the rearview mirror when she reached forward to hand the driver some money.
"Of course, Miss. Do enjoy your day."
That was sort of a funny thing to say to someone getting dropped off at a graveyard, but he was just being polite so she muttered a customary "you too" and climbed out.
Gwen knew the way from the road where she'd asked to be dropped off, and the cool breeze was actually quite nice. But it did mean she had her head down and so didn't realize right away that she wasn't the only visitor.
Clad in coats and sweaters against the chill, ginger-haired Mary Jane Watson and Betty Brant, looking chic and expensive like she always did these days, were waiting on the uneven path near her dad's grave stone.
When she realized who it was and why they were clearly there, she teared up.
"Hey, G," Betty stepped right up and pulled her into a hug.
"Hi ...how long have you guys been here?" she checked once she stepped away.
"A bit," Betty answered vaguely, which probably meant quite a while.
"We know you probably wanted to be on your own, so we don't have to stay," MJ explained, looking a little apologetic.
"...no, it's nice," Gwen admitted.
And tears were spilling-over from her eyes, but that was alright. There weren't facades of strength here; hell, these two didn't even know about the other half of her life. They only knew Gwen Stacy, their childhood friend. Betty and MJ had known her from the beginning. They'd known her mom before she was sick, and they'd hung out with her at the Stacy's house and then in their apartment once they'd downsized. Each girl had attended the funerals of both of her parents - one planned and processed for with hospice workers, the other much more full of numb shock - and cried with her and sat with her ...and, okay, yeah, tried to drink it away with her, too.
MJ held her in a hug, too, rubbing her back lightly, and then they walked closer to George Stacy's grave. They were quiet a while and then swapped a few stories and even laughed, which was therapeutic to Gwen; she hadn't really smiled today. They talked about him busting them trying to sneak out during sleepovers, teaching them a little self defense, picking them up from play practice in his squad car to embarrass them, and then, eventually, to reminiscing about him and her mom together.
Once the tone came back down from quiet giggles and eye rolls, MJ and Betty shuffled away back toward one of the paths snaking around the graveyard. They promised not to leave - they wanted to give her a ride home - but they gave her the privacy she'd been looking for earlier.
"Hey dad," Gwen nudged the gravestone with her toe, feeling just a little silly like she always did. "Turns out your right; Stark's a little pompous sometimes," she chuckled humorlessly. "... ...I guess I've gotten myself in some shit..."
That had been her dad's favorite way of minimizing things at work: "Just some shit, Gwen."
"It's okay, though ... ...I'm okay ...I think you'd agree..." she frowned thoughtfully.
It wasn't the first time that she'd wondered what he would think of her alternate life. He had never fully approved of Iron Man, for instance. Not because he wasn't grateful for the good he'd done but because he had proved himself ungovernable. 'What if he changes his allegiances, huh; what then? ' 'What about these nut-job copycats he's inspiring? We're all screwed if one of them comes strutting down Broadway.'
He might've thought the same kinds of things of Spider Woman, but she was also trying to clean up the streets and he would've liked that. He'd grown up in and policed the same city all his life ...she liked to think he'd have appreciated the help.
"It's not easy, though," she murmured. "...but I guess you knew that. I get it, now..."
And she hadn't, before, which was always hard to admit. She had been young, though, so she was sure her dad had understood, that he hadn't really blamed her.
She just blamed herself.
She had been so angry when her mom was sick, and then her powers had popped-up and she'd run off to do her own shit ... ...she hadn't made it any easier on her dad when she could have.
"Sorry," she whispered.
She stuck around a little longer, not really talking aloud but thinking of what life might be like if he was still around. That was a pretty deep hole to dive down - for instance, would she ever even have become Spider Woman? - but she tried to keep it light, thinking about having him and her mom over to her apartment, grabbing lunch with him when she was on break, bugging him for an exclusive interview for the paper...and her mom probably would have egged that on with a laugh. Little things she definitely would have taken for granted.
She hung around until she started to get a little too cold. It was to the point of uncomfortable, and it also made her take pity on her dutiful friends.
"You were right; they're the best," she watched the two other woman chatting some distance away, arms crossed against the chill and shifting from foot to foot.
Her parents had liked them. Her dad liked to joke that it was just because they weren't boys, but he'd had a soft spot for them and always let them make themselves at home with the Stacys and asked after them if he hadn't seen them in a while.
"Are you hungry?" Betty asked once she'd said her goodbyes and come to join the ladies. "Or you wanna go straight home?"
"Food's good; I could eat a horse..." Gwen patted the stomach she had neglected to feed today.
Betty the vegetarian tutted at that.
"Well I want sushi," MJ decided.
Gwen did like sushi, but she also thought briefly of smothered nachos and burritos with Wade. She even wondered about begging off from a nicer meal with the ladies to see if Wade was around so they could lounge around together, but she dismissed that just as quickly.
She didn't see the girls enough as it was, and maybe she spent too much time with Wade, anyway. There were other friendships in his life, after all; she couldn't hole up with him all the time even if she wanted to.
And she didn't want to.
That would be ...too much.
He was just good company.
But so were MJ and Betty.
"Let's go," she approved.
Betty gave the all-clear, too, since she could easily find some options there for herself. They piled in MJ's car and took off to one of her favorite spots, where they reminisced and caught up over a narrow table and modern white plates. They even fit in a cocktail or two. It all turned out to be so painfully normal that Gwen almost didn't want to leave. And they did stay for quite some time, but MJ had her back to her apartment once it had grown dark.
She considered calling it a night, then, but pulled her suit and mask on out of habit anyway. It would be nice to just take a deep breath and look out at the cityscape; she only hoped it would be a quiet night.
A couple hours later, Gwen was sitting on the corner of the roof at Midtown High, dangling her legs lazily over the edge. It had been a quiet night so far, but if the quiet crunch of dirt behind her was any indication, that was going to change.
She knew the gate, though, and wasn't alarmed; she just kept watching the nearby streets.
"You have some hot friends, Blondie," Wade's voice sung across the rooftops.
That did surprise her.
"Huh?" she looked over her shoulder at the red-and-black merc approaching with a pizza box in hand.
"Tall redhead; bodacious chick with the really short hair. Some guys think that's androgynous, but I don't mind. Either of them up for a threesome?"
"Ew ...and what?" she processed what he was saying. "What were you doing today? Were you...at the cemetery? Or Kazu's?"
"I staked-out the cemetery," he confirmed and sat the pizza beside her on the ledge so he could pull the box open.
"You what?" she blinked at him.
He paused in the act of rolling up the bottom of his mask.
"Uh ...was I not supposed to?"
Boundaries. Riiiight.
"No, I mean it's okay ...I just didn't know..."
"Well it's called being covert, Princess," he went on in pulling his mask up so he could start eating some pineapple and olive pizza. "Help yourself to some grub...anyway, your friends showed up so I figured they had you covered."
"I meant I didn't know you even knew about..."
"Your pops?" he cocked his head curiously. "You've mentioned it and the time of year ...I had to look up the date and where he was, but I know how to google, ya know."
"Wade..."
"Not that I'm a stalker or anything," he defended himself around a mouth full of cheese.
"Wade," she started again and threw a hand over his mouth.
He just continued to chew.
"That was really sweet."
"Ugh," he took a step back in disgust.
"Don't argue with me," she poked hard at the kevlar of his chest.
He grunted and took another large bite.
"Eat up," he gesticulated at the pizza she hadn't touched yet. "If I eat it all on my own, I'll feel like a pig."
"You are a pig," Gwen pointed out and scooped up a slice of her own. "Here," she patted the bricks next to her.
Wade hopped up to take his place next to her, kicking his feet back and forth cheerily as he did so. Gwen scooted toward him so their sides were flush and began plucking the pineapple off of her pizza to place onto what was left of his slice.
"You have to eat your fruit to have a balanced diet," he scolded.
"I'd rather have meat on my pizza"
"Oh I've got some meat for ya," he growled in her direction.
Gwen knocked his shoulder with her own and munched on the black olive pizza while he went on and on about the balance of salty and sweet. She'd heard it before, so she didn't bother to chime in with her preference for classic spicy and cheesy; she just let him go. It was kind of comforting after a hard day
She didn't exactly remember when this thing had become more comfortable than furtive and sneaking over the last year or so. They'd been relieved to reunite and had fell easily back into flirting and fucking around with Weasel at Sister Margaret's. Gwen had half expected Wade to make a move like he had back in the day -not that she was conceited or anything, but she was older and more put together than she had been back before becoming Spider Woman - and had been a little relieved with the idea; they trusted each other and it would be a nice stress relief even if he was still reeling over Vanessa. Except he hadn't gone past flirting because he had not wanted her to see him, so she'd had to do some of the pursuing until he was convinced she wasn't pretending or pitying. Only then had he dove-in head first with his typical 110% enthusiasm.
She'd almost had buyers remorse, unsure whether something like this with Deadpool was the least bit wise or sustainable. And maybe it really wasn't, but she trusted him and that went a long way. Maybe she would regret it some day, for he so precariously straddled the line of right and wrong that a strong breeze might blow him the wrong way, but not yet. Today she was happy ...with whatever this was.
She finished her less-than-satisfying slice and then pulled her feet up to sit cross-legged there on the ledge. Wade leaned across her to snag the pizza box back so he could keep eating, and he didn't mind transferring hands when she ducked to rest her head on his shoulder.
"Did baby girl have a long day?" he teased, though he already assumed that it was true - maybe he should've picked up a pizza he knew she would actually like.
"Mmhmm ... ... and I missed you," she told him quietly like she wasn't sure if it was precisely true.
But she'd said it.
Hells yeah she did ...let's not ruin it.
He paused for a beat and then raised his arm to curl her shoulders.
"Guess I shouldda come out at the cemetery, but I didn't know if your friends would be able to hang..."
"Yeah, that probably would've been hard to explain," she sighed, then tensed. "I just mean ...they don't even know about all this," she straightened up and pointed at herself.
"I get it," he tugged her back against him.
Even if those chicks knew their friend was the one swinging between building to fight crime, he was another pill to swallow entirely. He wasn't as well known as her or the Avenger dweebs, but he was fairly infamous, too. Even if he met some of her friends as just plain old Wade Wilson, that brought its own load of shit of scars and explanations. No! They don't get to see.
In summary, he didn't exactly make great first impressions ...or sometimes second or third or fourths, either.
He was pretty sure the Avenger nerds didn't even know the extent of their relationship. Gwen was much more of a prude than he was himself, so he couldn't see her detailing their escapades . Sex-capades, ammi right?! He didn't have a problem with that, but he was sure she'd get shit for it.
Can't trust him. Not true.
Dangerous. Fair assessment.
Mercenary. Well, duh!
Unpredictable. That was true enough, too.
Point being that she already got these lectures from Tin Man and Co. just by admitting they palled around together from time to time. If they knew the extent of things, they'd probably be worried for her sanity.
Which was something he'd wondered before, too. Goddamn angel that she was, she was out of his league. She might not see it, but he was resigned to the fact that one of these days she'd figure it out and be done fucking around with him. He consoled himself with the fact that she'd probably at least have the grace to feel a little bad about it.
So he was just tucking away any affiliated emotions and hanging on for the ride while it lasted.
"Rude," he muttered when she rose a hand to peel a black olive off of his pizza and nibble it herself.
She didn't respond and twisted where she sat to drape her legs over his knees. He spared a moment to wonder what someone would think if they looked up to see this, but he knew that people were hardly ever paying proper attention to their surroundings.
"Wanna head back to my place when you're done?" Gwen spoke up. "I don't think I've got it in me to stay out too late today..."
"You got it, Spidey, he nodded and shoved the last half of his slice into his mouth.
"It didn't have to be this second," she chortled.
"Shud uf spefidied," he tried around a mouthful, then chewed quickly. "Should've specified," he repeated thickly before catching some cheese trying to escape .
"Gross," Gwen shoved herself away from him and got up.
"I liberated a car in Hells Kitchen to get here; want a ride?" he gallantly offered.
"I've got a ride ...maybe finish that monstrosity on the way over," she turned her nose up at his pizza.
"You're so second-class..."
"Yeah, yeah..."
Gwen did a back handspring off the roof, but Wade has seen the wind-up so he didn't flinch at the action. Score.
X
She beat him back to her place, of course, but then they slid in a movie and bummed around into the night since she was used to being up late and he just didn't sleep much.
She was even more talkative than usual, so he just let her go until she talked herself out. She filled him in a little more about the friends he'd spotted her with, assuring him beyond a doubt that there would be no threesomes. Killjoy. She even told him about her argument with Iron Douche; she seemed to be regretting it a bit, but he'd assured her that she shouldn't have to feel bad unless she'd thrown him from his balcony. Even then it would be questionable, as far as he was concerned. He had also made a mental note of Stark's sin against her so that he'd remember it the next time he saw the billionaire. Might just have to be sooner than later...
And then -oooooh then - she was riding him on her couch. Wade hadn't planned to even sniff in that direction considering the day she'd had, but they had kissed and kissed some more, and then she was straddling him and telling him to take his pants off, so he wasn't going to say no.
Wouldn't want to be rude!
"What do you want, baby?"
It was pretty clear what she wanted, but he asked because he felt like he should be doing more. Of all the days for her to be on top; he'd have thought that after a bad day she might just want to lay back and get eaten out all night.
Ohhhh ...I'll put a pin in that idea...
"Just this," she moaned and then ducked-in to kiss him.
Well, then, who was he to complain? So he didn't. He just dug his blunt fingernails into her spine and scratched along her back while she rode him languidly there in her living room. She wasn't talking anymore, so he stayed uncharacteristically quiet even though there was plenty he wanted to say about her hips and her chest and her ...well, he'd just file each thought away for later.
Because it didn't matter right this second ...
"Fuuuuuck," he had trouble staying mum when she was coming atop him.
The way she gasped sent chills down his spine and straight to his dick. He took the initiative, then, to hold her still and fuck up into her a little harder until he groaned and relaxed limply into the cushions, too.
"One of these days," he grunted once he had his breath back and could stand and scoop her up with him. "I'm going to make you carry me to bed..."
"I totally could," she grinned and gave his chin a gentle bite and let her teeth scrape the skin slowly.
Wade snorted.
"Yeah. That's what I'm saying; why am I doing the heavy lifting all the time?" he crawled onto his knees on the bed and dropped forward so he could just immediately nuzzle his head into her chest. "I'm a modern man; I can be carried bridal style over the threshold."
"Anything you want," Gwen sighed, still a little blissed-out.
Wade popped his head up straight away.
"...you know that's the most dangerous thing you could say to me, right? Ow! Spiders aren't supposed to pinch, they bite -ow! Alright, alright, I'm sorry..."
They laid quietly for some time, Gwen's heart slow and steady in his ear. That's a nice sound; maybe the nicest. Hard to say...
"Move a minute..." Gwen finally asked after some time.
"I'm comfy," Wade complained and turned his face straight down into her chest, this time for cozy rather than sexy reasons.
Gwen tapped-out on his shoulder anyway and gave him a nudge so he would roll off. He flopped to the side and watched her wander anyway into her bathroom. When she reemerged she didn't come straight back to bed; she fetched a t-shirt and then her laptop from the breakfast table before returning to sit against the headboard.
"Late night Amazon shopping? Kindda cliche, I gotta say..."
He hopped up from the bed and took his own bathroom break, though he was happy to remain naked when he came back out.
"C'mon whattcha doin? Good spiders should be sleeping," he hopped back onto the bed to sit beside her.
"I'm not tired..."
"...I'm not going to internalize that to relate it in any way to my sexual prowess," Wade muttered, half to her and half as a reminder to himself.
"Good," Gwen snorted. "You shouldn't. I'm googling myself ..."
"Hottttt!" Wade cheered.
"Cut it out ...I like to keep a beat on what's out there on Spider Woman. Sometimes the Avengers or X-Men, too ... ...and you."
"Well let me know if they're saying anything good about me," Wade requested, though he didn't really care.
He plucked each hand of hers off the computer, then dropped them and rolled down the bed towards her feet to pull the blankets off.
"...do I get to ask what you're doing?" Gwen raise an eyebrow at him but a grin was tugging at her lips.
Perfect.
"Inspecting," was his unhelpful answer. "How come you have nail polish stashed in the bathroom? You never have nail polish on..."
Gwen laughed.
"Never isn't quite right. I do sometimes..."
"Hardly," he argued back. "So why not? I know you're bendy enough to reach your toes."
Gwen pretended she didn't blush.
"A manicure seems like a waste of time since I would just mess it up working, and I guess I don't wear a lot of sandals to think about my toes..."
Wade huffed and then rolled off of the bed again to go rummage around in the bathroom. He came back with red nail polish.
"Seriously?"
"Uh-huh ...go on. Keep googling all of your friends. Budge up a little, though..."
Gwen tucked up her knees a little bit so her feet could rest further up the bed. Then a perfectly naked Wade Wilson flopped back down, hunkered closer to her feet, and, tongue between his teeth, he began to carefully paint each of her toenails.
"...I wish my phone wasn't in the living room," Gwen peered over the top screen of her computer towards him.
"No selfies," he snapped. "Live in the moment."
So she did.
It was a strange ending to a unfortunate day... and why did she even like it when Wade blew softly on her toes after painting them?
"You sleepy yet, Beauty?" Wade asked when he crawled back up to the head of the bed.
"Nope."
"Find anything good on there?"
"Nah, not much..."
"Alright, gimme ...i'll show you what's actually good out there..." he yanked her computer into his own, still naked, lap.
"I don't really feel like watching porn right now, Wade..."
"Right now? So you're saying that maybe later is fine?" his head ticked up in attention.
"Maybe," she waggled her eyebrows at him.
"...noted," he quipped and turned back to the computer. "No porn, then ...just my top favorite youtube videos..."
He caught her surprised look and shrugged.
"What, you don't like getting lost down a deep, dark youtube hole?"
"Of course I do," she shifted toward him to see what it was he was going to choose.
"Good. So me first. Then your turn."
"Sounds fair."