Shortly after 7am, Wade, Peter, and Wanda joined Phil Coulson and Steve Rogers in Steve's office to exchange information. Wanda filled in the blanks where Wade had become unconscious. Thanks to Wade's cell phone, SHIELD and the Avengers had tracked down the location where Wade and Wanda were taken. It was an abandoned clinic, recently abandoned considering the amount of blood to be found. Some of it was Wade's. Some of it was Wanda's. A lot of it was from other mutants. There were no bodies, no scientists or doctors. No fingerprints. It was obvious that the place was set up to be used and abandoned, but by who was a mystery.

The only clue was Stryfe, a man who was supposed to be dead many times over. A man who should have been erased from history and existence in some distant, distorted timeline that was collapsed and rewritten when Cable and Stryfe plummeted through a time vortex on the Moon.

Coulson hummed, looking down at his tablet before saying, "There have been reports sporadically of mutants being taken, most of whom have the same drugs in their system as found in yours. Until this time, we've had no leads on locations." He gave a Phil Coulson smile, which was barely a twitch of the corner of his mouth, and said, "I know this was unpleasant, but your experience may be what we need to get to the bottom of this. The last thing we need is another Weapon Plus."

"No argument here," Wade said with a frown.

Wanda asked, "What about Stryfe?"

"That is...a bit more difficult." Coulson drummed his fingers on his knee, gathering his thoughts. "As it stands, we have no evidence to back up that Stryfe is alive at all, other than the word of two individuals who were under the influence of very powerful drugs." He held up a hand to stave off any remarks, and continued, "That does not mean he is not present. Doesn't mean he's not a threat. We just don't know what to look for."

Steve cleared his throat. "I know you've requested to speak with Logan. Right now, he's out of the country dealing with some...uh...family issues."

"Daken?" Wade asked.

Steve smiled, but didn't remark, then said, "Scott Summers will be in the city in a few days, and might be more useful, considering that Stryfe is a clone of his son."

"Fuck that," both Wanda and Wade said in flat unison.

"If you want to talk to him about it, go ahead," Wade continued. "But he and I don't exactly see eye to eye, and that has nothing to do with his annoying laser vision. Trust me when I say that if I'm involved, he doesn't give a shit."

"He can be somewhat difficult to deal with," Steve said with a stifled laugh.

By the end of their small confab, the general consensus was to be vigilant, but try to continue life as normal. Neither Wade nor Wanda were to go anywhere alone, and any suspicious activity should be reported immediately.

As Wade and Peter were standing to leave, Steve shook Wade's hand, and said, "Remember, the meeting is tonight."

Wade's brow furrowed, then his eyes brightened. "Oh. Yeah. Support group for wayward villains."

Steve nodded. "I know this has been a rough couple days, but I still would like you to attend."

"Ah, hell," Wade said, lazy smirk on his lips. "This is nothing."

Peter slipped his arm around Wade's waist, and Wanda led the way out of the building. The ride home from the Tower was silent, except for the occasional snores from Wade. Peter could tell Wanda was exhausted, too, by the darkness around her eyes. But it was obvious she didn't want to sleep by the startled way she sat up every time her eyes were closed for more than a few seconds.

Peter, who was jammed between the two Deadpools, nudged Wanda with his elbow. "Is everything okay?"

"Not really," she answered with a shrug. "But it's not every day I get kidnapped. At least, not anymore. And not…"

"By a Nate lookalike?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Well, there's that."

Peter studied her a moment. There was something about the set of her jaw, the slight crinkle at the corner of her eye, things that on Wade's face meant he was hiding something. Peter asked, "Did something else happen?"

"Nah," Wanda said, looking out the window. For Peter, it might as well have been an admission, but he wasn't going to push it. If she wanted to tell him, she would. He'd learned the hard way that pushing Wade to tell him anything was as effective as trying to smash a brick wall with a sack of cotton balls.

They arrived back at the apartment a little before noon. Wade went into the kitchen to make some lunch while Wanda called Bob. Bob showed up a few minutes later, out of breath, his face beet red from running. He immediately went to Wanda, who hugged him around the neck and petted his sweaty hair. The two went to the corner of the living room to sit on Wade's gigantic beanbag chair. It was actually kind of sweet the way Bob submitted to Wanda's petting, like he was a human-shaped cat.

After eating a quick lunch of sandwiches, Wade and Wanda both fell asleep on the couch. Their heads were resting against the back of the sofa, mouths open, snoring softly. Peter went to the kitchen to wash the few plates and clean up the breadcrumbs. Bob assisted in straightening the table.

When he continued to hover, Peter asked, "Something on your mind?"

"Yes," Bob said softly. He peeked into the living room, then said, "I'm worried about them."

Peter sat in one of the kitchen chairs, sighing heavily. "So am I."

For a while, Peter couldn't get past the fact that Bob was an agent of Hydra. But after a while, Peter realized he was just a regular guy who happened to lack any kind of direction in his life. He needed someone to tell him what to do and think, and he looked for anyone who would do that. First, Hydra was the answer. Then he met Wade, who in so many ways abused the poor guy. That parrot suit… Now, he was the favorite minion of everyone at Agency X.

Really, Bob was a pretty okay guy. He was spineless to the point Peter wondered how he could walk upright, but he wasn't inherently evil, he didn't torture kittens, and he genuinely cared about Wade Wilson. Now, it was obvious he cared about Wanda, too.

"Mr. Wilson used to disappear a lot," Bob said after a lengthy silence. He was picking at the label on his bottle of water, frowning. "He'd be in the middle of a mission, and he would vanish. Or he'd call from strange places and be angry because he couldn't remember how he got there." Bob's frown deepened. "I always thought it was because of his mind, you know?"

Peter nodded. Wade had issues. It wasn't a secret. The voices in his head, though absent more often than not, were a factor in his life. Sometimes Wade would have lengthy conversations with himself, laughing at his internal jokes and sometimes becoming violently angry. A lot of those issues seemed to smooth out just by having someone else with him, keeping him grounded in the moment.

Of all the things that Wade struggled with, the most prominent was loneliness. Once Peter understood him, could really see just how lonely and lost the man was, Peter had direction when it came to dealing with Deadpool. Friendship came first. Peter would make sure to find Deadpool at night, ask the merc to help him patrol. Sometimes Peter would help the merc tracking a quarry, all with the goal of keeping the body count down. Amazingly, with Peter around, Deadpool wasn't as trigger happy.

It was hero worship, Peter discovered. Deadpool absolutely adored Spiderman and desperately wanted the webslinger's approval. He wanted to be like Peter. In the end, that was what made Peter reveal his identity to the merc; he was uncomfortable being put on a pedestal like that. Peter was no angel; he didn't deserve to be looked at like some kind of perfection to strive toward.

There were setbacks and lapses. There were times when Peter almost gave up on Deadpool being anything but a mercenary. But Peter didn't give up, and Wade kept trying. Somewhere along the way, the merc became a fixture in Peter's life. He was someone to relax with after a rough battle, someone to joke with on a shitty day. Then out of the blue, Peter realized that his feelings for the merc strayed far out of the realm of friendship and into territory he never imagined would be occupied by Wade Wilson.

Now, it was hard to imagine life without him. Losing Wade would feel like losing an arm or a leg; sure, Peter could go on living, but life would never be the same. This experience felt like a close brush with that terrifying reality. The fact that some faceless asshole could come in and scoop Wade up, take him away to some shithole clinic to do god only knows what to him… It made Peter furious.

"You want to stay with us for a bit?" Peter said after a prolonged silence. "We'll convert the office into a bedroom or something. I know that you and Wanda kind of have a thing, and I would prefer keeping her close."

"We don't really have a bedroom 'thing', Mr. Parker," Bob said with a smile. "Although if that were to happen, I would probably be the happiest man on planet Earth."

Peter laughed, and said, "Yeah. They kind of have that effect, don't they?"

Bob shrugged. "Wade changed my life. Before he came along, I didn't know what it was like to have a friend."

"Didn't he shoot you?" Peter said, his brow scrunched.

Bob nodded. "Yeah, but what's a couple bullets among friends?" He laughed, absently rubbing his shoulder before adding, "Somebody's gotta watch out for them, though. I think we do a pretty good job."

"You are one of a kind, Bob," Peter said, unable to keep from laughing.

Without further conversation, Peter got up from the kitchen table and went to the living room where he scooped Wade off the couch and carried him bridal style to the bedroom. He placed him on the bed, removing the merc's heavy boots before tucking him under the blanket. He was just about to go out to the living room to figure out how to reorganize the office when Wade grabbed Peter's hand.

"Stay," he said sleepily.

Peter only took time to kick off his tennis shoes before sliding under the covers behind his merc. Wade wiggled back against him and Peter's arm secured him in place, his fingers idly stroking the rough, hard planes of the merc's muscular stomach. Peter nuzzled into the nape of his neck, kissing the knob of bone.

"I'm sorry about all this," Wade said softly.

"Don't," Peter said firmly. "You didn't do this. You didn't ask for any of this."

Wade sighed. "Still. I haven't even been home a week, and…"

"Stop." Peter sat up, rolling Wade onto his back to look him in the eyes. "I don't just love you when things are easy." He kissed him, punctuating the statement before adding, "Get that through your thick skull. I love you, Wade Wilson."

Wade nodded, trying his best to not tear up. It didn't matter how long they were together, Wade doubted he would ever get used to being loved by Peter Parker. Really, he didn't want to get used to it. That would mean that it had become common and expected. He might not appreciate the sweet smiles and subtle gestures. There was nothing, not one thing, common about being in love with someone like Peter.

Then Peter was kissing him, and all of his thoughts dissolved into a blissful haze. There was nothing better at calming the static in Wade's mind than the slow brush of lips and sweep of tongue. Everything felt light and good because Peter was there, touching him, worshiping him like he was the worthy one. It never made sense. It would never make sense. But Wade wasn't going to complain, although he almost did when Peter got up to close the bedroom door all the way.

Any protest vanished when Peter took off his clothes. Wade did the same, and soon they were skin to skin and everything in the world felt better. Peter straddled him, rubbing Wade's broad chest, trailing kisses down the merc's neck, nipping at his collar bone. Wade's broad hands kneaded Peter's ass.

"We need to be quiet," Peter whispered. "Don't wanna disturb our guests."

Wade hummed. "Could be a challenge."

Peter smirked. "Maybe I should just let you sleep."

Wade pooched out his lip at that concept, then bit his arm to stifle a moan when Peter gripped his cock. Peter's hand moved slow, his thumb stroking over the head then brushing over the Wade's clit on the down.

"You were so amazing the other night," Peter whispered into Wade's ear, making the merc shiver. "So goddamn beautiful. I haven't been able to get that out of my mind."

"Kinky little spider," he breathed. Wade's hands tightened on Peter's shoulders, focusing very hard on not making a sound. And for Wade, that was a challenge even when there wasn't a tight hand stroking his cock. It became even more of a challenge when Peter's hand was replaced by his mouth. Wade had to grab a pillow to keep silent. It felt so good, Wade was shaking. Then Peter shifted above him, and Wade realized that Peter had a bottle of lube in his hand.

"No way I'll stay quiet if you fuck me," Wade said almost desperately.

Peter grinned. "I know, baby. That's why you're gonna fuck me."

Wade whimpered. He gripped Peter's cock, and the younger man's face went slack as he slowly worked himself open in time with Wade's stroking. Once he was stretched and ready, Peter slicked up Wade's cock, and Wade had to think of Hulk in a bikini to keep from making a sound when guided him inside.

Keeping silent made everything feel that much more intense. Every motion was accompanied by soft gasps and hisses, mostly quieted by breathy kisses and lips bitten to the point of bleeding. It felt like something teenagers would do in fear of waking disapproving parents rather than two adults in their own bedroom.

And it was absolute torment having Peter on top like this. Just watching the way his perfect body moved, the way he arched his back, the way he clenched around Wade… It was almost too much to take. It was too much to ask him to be quiet when faced with the blissed out look in Peter's eyes, the heat and tightness, the sensations that made everything in his body tingle and beg to release. Though he fought it, Wade could hear his breathing getting louder, a voice carrying the edge.

Peter was getting close too, though he was managing to keep the volume down. He was shaking, little tremors going through his thighs as Wade stroked his aching cock. Wade's thrusts became erratic, and he bit Peter's shoulder to stifle the moan that accompanied his orgasm. Peter was a second behind him, splattering Wade's stomach in white.

After a quick wipe down with Peter's dirty t-shirt, they nestled back under the covers. When they were just about to drift off to sleep, Wade's cell phone chimed. Peter grabbed it, and he snorted a laugh when Wade showed him the message.

Minion: I give it an 8.3. Love, Wanda. PS: Your bed squeaks.