Monday was always Peter's busiest day of the week. He was in the middle of his thesis work, and spent a good portion of every Monday in the laboratory at the college. Sometimes he would close himself in the spare bedroom of the apartment, which had been converted to an office/workout room, and agonize over notes and just how he would ever finish said thesis by the deadline, which was still five months away. The afternoon would be consumed by a meeting at the Daily Bugle, where he would be reminded by J. Jonah Jameson just how big of a piece of shit a portion of New York thought his alter-ego to be, followed by assignments to catch more photos of said piece of shit because they were what kept people subscribing.
Peter hated Mondays.
This Monday, Peter woke to the sound of Wade singing "I Put A Spell on You" (the Hocus Pocus version) in the kitchen. The scent of fresh muffins and the backup chorus from another raspy voice pointed out that Wanda was there, and more than likely the Deadpool Twins had been up for at least an hour or so. Peter got out of bed and sleep walked to the kitchen, where Wade greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a travel cup of coffee with two sugars, a shot of vanilla and just the right amount of whipped cream.
Peter looked up and smiled, and relished the sort of shy look that Wade gave him. It reminded Peter of the first time they'd spent the night together, when Wade finally removed his clothing so Peter could see his body in all its scarred glory. Wade was actually blushing a little bit, and Peter couldn't stop smiling despite the fact that he was dreading the day ahead.
Wanda handed him a muffin and pushed a chair out from the table with her toe. The muffin was streusel topped. Peter was pampered, and he knew it.
After drinking his coffee and feeling slightly more alert, Peter asked, "What are you two planning today?"
"Call of Duty," Wanda answered. "Nothing says sibling bonding like first person shooter tournaments."
Wade stood behind Peter, rubbing his shoulders with his big, warm hands, and said, "Might head down to Agency X. Introduce Wanda to my clone and the rest of the crew."
Peter nodded. "Awesome."
Sometimes, Peter was jealous of the abundance of downtime Wade had between jobs. But really, he shouldn't be. More than once-practically every week-Wade told him to quit his job at the Bugle and just focus on his thesis, that Wade had more than enough money to pay the bills and with all the work he was getting from SHIELD, those funds were not going to dry up any time soon.
Every time, Peter told him no. There was always something about work ethic, and doing his part, and purpose. However, those reasons were becoming less and less convincing. Especially when Wade kept rubbing that spot between his shoulders that made Peter's body turn into jelly.
Then there was the fact that Peter couldn't stop thinking about last night, and was in the mind set to continue Wade's experimentation. Younger Peter Parker who had nothing on his mind but sex and shooting webs would have grabbed Wade and pulled him into the nearest private space. But Adult Peter Parker had a slightly stronger sense of obligation. Lab time was not cheap or easy to find, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his life taking Spiderman selfies.
But he really liked the thought of taking a Sex Day. Kind of like a sick day, but with more orgasms.
So, after another muffin, Peter got dressed in his least ripped pair of jeans and Doctor Who t-shirt with a rainbow Dalek on the front which was topped with a plaid overshirt. He slipped into his Converse, grabbed his shoulder bag, and put on one of Wade's hoodies to use as a jacket since the weather was supposed to be chilly.
Wade and Wanda went down to the street to wait with Peter for a cab. Though he was probably trying to restrain himself, Wade was being exceptionally touchy-feely, always keeping some part of their bodies touching, stealing quick kisses, or a not-so-discreet hand on Peter's butt. The cab arrived, and Wade and Wanda wished him a good day, with Wade promising Thai food for dinner.
Peter decided that this Monday was going to be a good one.
It was the longest Monday in the history of Mondays.
There were issues at the laboratory stemming from some undergrads who had started a small chemical fire early that morning. The lab was closed off due to the cleaning crew, and the entire building smelled like burned chemicals. Thus, Peter texted Tony Stark to ask permission to use the equipment at Stark Industrial to go over his latest data. Tony wasn't responding, which wasn't really a surprise considering their small altercation Saturday night. Peter went to the library to work on his paper, only to find most of the computers were occupied and he had somehow managed to forget his laptop charger at home.
Wade was his only relief from the feeling of wanting to choke random people. As soon as Peter told him the kind of day he was having, Wade started sending pictures of baby animals interspersed with ass-selfies and random texts about the snack food industry. Apparently, the Deadpools had started the morning by going to Agency X with Bob, only to be disappointed to discover that Alex Hayden was out on a job. Really, Wade was happy about this turn of events, since it was Wade who had put Hayden through a rigorous fitness routine to get rid of the excess bulk left from his monkey-treat addiction. When Peter first met Hayden, he didn't believe that the man was Wade's clone. But once he lost the weight, it was absolutely undeniable.
Sandi painted Wade and Wanda's fingernails, and they ended up going to lunch with her and Inez.
The day didn't get better, though. Especially once Peter got to the Bugle and saw the front page of Sunday's paper. It was a picture of Deadpool and Spiderman sharing a mask-covered kiss surrounded by the fires left by Jack O'Lantern's bombs. The caption read, "Lunatic Lovers Level Downtown Block".
Wade and Peter had a rule about newspapers: they didn't buy them or read them. This was for their own mental health (Peter included). It was bad enough to work for his worst detractor, it was another thing entirely to actually pay to read the garbage he published. The article attached was enough to make Peter's blood boil, and he again debated if quitting his job would be for the best. It certainly was tempting in that moment.
And then there was the problem that Wade had stopped texting. Really, it shouldn't have bothered Peter, considering that the last text he received was Wade telling him that he and Wanda were heading back to the apartment to start their Call of Duty marathon. But every time he looked at his phone and saw a distinct lack of messages, Peter got a nagging feeling that something wasn't right.
Peter suffered through the meeting, spending most of it writing notes back and forth to Jan Parsec. Jan was an advice columnist, and she and her wife Tara had gone out to dinner with Peter and Wade a couple times. She was silently planning a small protest because of the article featuring Deadpool and Spiderman, via her secret (successful) blog called, "Under the Tights", which focused heavily on NYC's superhero population. Normally, Peter would be smirking about her desire to interview the now openly out masked men, except for his message-less cell phone.
As soon as the meeting was finished, Peter gathered his things and grabbed a taxi home. He sent Wade a text, telling him that he was on his way. Again, there was no response. Probably just dead battery, Peter imagined. Or he's too wrapped up in the game. Wanda cut off his hands for some reason or other. Wade inspired people to be homicidal with him at times.
Peter arrived at the apartment to find the door securely locked, which was seldom the case if Wade was there. It was so rare that Peter had to pick the lock because he'd left his keys that morning.
Inside, everything looked normal. The breakfast dishes were done, leftover muffins sitting in a bowl on the table. Well, normal considering there was nothing normal about Wade not being home when he said he was going to be home. True, Wade could get distracted by a shiny wrapper dancing on the breeze, but if he said there would be home, he was home. Unless he got called away for a job, but even then, Wade would tell Peter what happened and where he would be.
No. This wasn't normal. Peter wasn't psychic, at least not in the Xavier's School version of psychic, but he trusted his instincts. Wade would call it feeling a great disturbance in the Force. Either way, Peter had a bad feeling about this.
"I'm just having a shitty day," Peter said to the empty apartment. If he thought hard enough, Peter could recall a couple times when Wade had forgotten plans and ended up snoozing in an alley. It was weird when it happened, and it had not happened in a very long time. Wade would make some excuse about chasing a purse thief and having a post-victory siesta. But that was back in the beginning of their relationship when Wade kept calling Peter "Toby Mac" and making references to their readers.
Really, Wade had changed a lot since they went from friends to lovers to excessively more than just boyfriends. Wade didn't argue with the voices in his head as much, except when he was agitated about something. And his memory was sharp. Wade could recall the most insignificant conversations that they had, a fact that made Peter both amazed and sad. Amazed because Wade always remembered every little compliment and smile. Sad because Peter had spent so many years treating him so badly, even if Wade claimed that all was forgotten in that department.
Peter called Wade's cell, and felt the knot of worry grow when it went straight to voicemail again. There were plenty of real world, not death and dismemberment reasons for that to happen, like subways and the meat department at the local grocer. Peter tried to focus on those things, but he still couldn't get past that nagging feeling of impending doom.
So he started calling those who had seen Wade that day, starting with Bob. It rang three times, and went to voicemail. Leave a message after the Hail Hydra. Peter waited for the beep, which was actually an electronic "Hail Hydra", and left a short message for Bob to call him back.
His next call was Agency X. Sandi answered with their customary greeting, "Hayden Cleaners, where we clean up your dirty business."
Most people needed to know the pass-phrase to get any kind of service from Agency X, other than a really bad maid that didn't know the first thing about cleaning bathroom showers. It was a code that changed on a regular basis, known only to people who tended to hire mercenaries and paid a retainer fee. Wade had the codes stuck on the refrigerator door with a Batman magnet.
"Okie dokie, Loki chokie," Peter said flatly. The codes were always something silly.
Sandi's voice went from chipper secretary to mercenary dispatcher. "Is this concerning wet work or espionage."
Peter cleared his throat, and said, "I'm looking for Wade."
"Sorry, we don't have anyone on our roster by that…"
"This is Peter," Peter said, frown on his face and in his voice.
"Oh!" Sandi's voice brightened. "Wade needs to put your phone number on the approved list. That would make things much simpler."
Peter shook his head. "Yeah, I guess he should. Anyway, is Wade still there?"
"He left after lunch," Sandi answered. "He said he was heading home to kill innocent tweens with Wanda. She's a peach."
"I'm here and he's not, and he's not answering his cell," Peter said, more worry in his voice than he wanted. "Bob's not answering either."
"Bob is still here at the office," Sandi said, her tone a bit more serious. "Are you sure he didn't just step out?"
Peter had to bite back a rude remark. "I know him."
"If you want, I can track his cell phone? Wouldn't take five minutes to pinpoint his location," Sandi offered.
Though it felt like something a creepy obsessive boyfriend would do, nodded then remembered he was on the phone, and said, "Yes. Track him."
Peter liked Sandi for the most part. She was sweet and pretty, and had terrible taste in men. At least that was Peter's opinion; he never liked Tony Masters and kind of wanted to break his skull mask on several occasions. But, considering that he and Wade had battled it out a few times, he probably had no room to talk. Tony Masters was probably a very nice man to people he actually liked and wanted to have sex with.
With a heavy sigh, Peter dropped down onto the sofa. The place didn't even smell like Wade had been there at all, which was probably because he had cleaned that morning before he left. Wade had his own scent, something that was kind of hard to define for people who had never smelled him. And Peter had slightly elevated olfactory senses. Nothing like Logan and his perpetual sniff testing, but still. His nose knows things too, dammit.
A couple minutes later, Sandi said, "Looks like he's in an alley on 10th Street? I'll text you the address."
Peter was about to say something only a very annoyed boyfriend would say when his phone beeped, alerting him to another call. He glanced at the screen, seeing Wade's face, and let out an audible sigh of relief. To Sandi, he said, "Wade's calling. I'm sorry I bothered you."
"It's no bother," she said sweetly, adding, "Thank you for choosing Hayden Cleaners."
Peter laughed, then hit the answer button and was still laughing as he said, "You are going to laugh so hard at me when I tell you how worried I've been, you bastard."
"Peter?" came Wanda's voice. She sounded scared, which made Peter's laughter die in his throat.
He sat up straighter, his heart suddenly pounding. "Wanda? What's wrong? Where are you?"
She let out a sound that was a mix of a sob and a growl, as she said, "I just woke up in an alley. I've been shot, and Wade… Wade's unconscious. I don't know what happened. I don't know where I am. My head...everything's spinning. I can't fucking keep my eyes open."
Peter's vision was starting to blur at the edges as his pulse accelerated. "It's okay, Wanda. Okay? I'm on my way. Just stay where you are, stay on the phone with me, okay? Wanda?"
Her voice was shaking as she said, "Okay."
Peter kept talking to Wanda as he grabbed his Avengers communicator and sent a text to Steve with the address and what he knew of the situation. Wanda's breathing was labored, and he was pretty sure she was hallucinating or maybe dreaming, because she kept talking to Nate. Wanda was still talking to Nate when Peter dropped down from the rooftop and landed beside her.
Wanda's eyes were dilated to the point only a sliver of gold bordered her irises. Her sweatshirt was riddled with holes, obviously gunshots. Wade was laying in a heap against the wall beside her, and judging from the drag pattern in the dirt, Wanda had pulled herself over to him. It was like someone had thrown Wade there. He was unconscious, naked except for his Spiderman underoos, and his chest was covered in blood from where he had been shot multiple times, though the wounds were closed and healed.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Peter asked, his voice stronger than he actually felt. For a moment, he didn't think Wanda was going to answer. Then when she did, it made Peter's skin crawl.
"Nate...It was Nate. I saw him."
