I Think I Might've Inhaled You

by SordidDetailsFollowing

Peter has enough problems with high school, his internship, and his arachnid alter ego. Throw in a merc with a mouth covered in unfairly sexy red spandex, and things get a little crazy. Wade just wants to eat tacos, listen to bad tween pop music, and participate in some soft-core torture and murder. When a certain little spider swings into his life, things get complicated.

14. And I'm Not Here, This Isn't Happening

Wade

[White]
{Yellow}

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[You kissed Peter.]

{OH MY GOD SWEET TITTIES ON WHITE BREAD WE ALMOST FUCKED SPIDER-MAN!}

[You kissed Peter Parker and then turned around and lied to your boyfriend about it.]

{WE ALMOST FUCKED SPIDEY JESUS FUCKING CHRIST}

[Is that how you're going to make it work? By lying to your itsy spider boy-toy?]

{WHO GIVES A FLYING FUCK WE FINGERED SPIDEY AND HE GAGGED ON OUR COCK AND OH MY GOD I'm getting hard right now, aren't I?}

"Uh, guys? Could you knock that off? You're not even on topic here." He could deal with his guilt and crippling self-doubt later; there were more important things to worry about right now. Wade sat perched on the edge of his couch, hands clenched into fists on his knees as he watched the news banner running across the tv screen below live footage of the bomb squad working in Times Square. He'd let Spidey go home (albeit rather reluctantly) about an hour ago. There was a chance he hadn't seen the news coverage yet, but there was no doubt they'd keep running the story all day tomorrow, so Spidey was gonna see it all eventually.

{Yeah, but the readers want to know our reactions to stuff like that! They're kind of obsessed with us, you know.}

[I just think it bears repeating: you're doing a shit job in this 'relationship,' if that's what it is. I'm pretty sure kissing other cute boys and hiding it goes against relationship rules.]

Wade gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore the boxes, trying to focus his attention on the more immediate problem. As he watched, CNN flashed a content warning for graphic images before replaying the cell phone footage of Spider-Man slamming the Green Goblin into a wall, punching him several times, and tearing off his mask. The frame froze on the blurry, bloody face that was revealed, and it was recognizable even through the bad video quality.

"And there you have it." The news caster's voice echoed hollowly through Wade's apartment. "New York's own billionaire CEO Norman Osborn has been unmasked as the Green Goblin, a villain who has terrorized the city three times over the last month." The shot cut to news footage of the Green Goblin flying over the Brooklyn Bridge, dropping pumpkin bombs on the stopped cars below. "We still don't know when, how, or why Mr. Osborn took on the identity of Green Goblin. Nor do we know why New York's masked vigilante Spider-Man, who has never killed before according to record, decided to take his life earlier tonight."

More cell-phone footage flashed across the screen. He watched with narrowed eyes as Spider-Man leapt away from the webbed-down goblin, flipping out of the frame right before the hover sled flashed across the screen and skewered Norman Osborn on two long, thin blades. He seized once, then went still, face slack and eyes blank. "Now we see Spider-Man coming back to the scene." The anchor's voice narrated over the video as the red and blue-clad hero stumbled into the shot and moved to Norman's side. "It seems as though he is trying to make sure that Norman Osborn is dead." Wade growled under his breath, skin crawling with uncomfortable anticipation as he watched Spidey start to move around the hover board, looking for a way to pull it out. "We can see him pressing something on the side of the Goblin's glider, ostensibly setting the bomb just before…" The voice trailed off, waiting for the fireworks to start on screen.

Wade flinched as he watched himself, a blur of red and black, tackle Spider-Man out of the way right before the entire screen erupted in pixilated orange and yellow. Screams could be heard in the background, and whoever was holding the cellphone seemed to drop it. The image went black before cutting back to a well-groomed lady sitting behind a giant desk in a tasteful suit jacket. "Fucking idiots." He grumbled, not listening to the bullshit she was spewing even though he really liked her choice in lipstick shade (Ravish Me Red by Revlon).

{Yeah, like why would Spidey, our Spidey, wanna blow up a dead baddie? Clearly he was already un-alived before that pretty little explosion.}

[Not the point. Didn't anyone notice the flashing red light on the back of the sled? It started before Spider-Man even touched the thing. Not to mention the beeping. Though I guess that couldn't be heard on the film by Mr. I-still-own-a-flip-phone-in-2017.]

"People are so fucking stupid, I swear." Wade threw his remote half-heartedly at the tv. "Doesn't anyone know Spider-Man at all? He doesn't kill people. Ever. That's like his MO."

[Except this time he did.]

Wade gritted his teeth. "No. He didn't. The Goblin did that to himself."

[You think Spidey will see it that way?]

Wade whipped a knife out of his belt and stabbed it into the couch cushion beside him, wrenching a long, jagged gash into the upholstery. "I'm gonna fucking kill every single reporter that calls Spidey a murderer."

{Oooooh, yes! Finally some real fun! Oh, it's been weeks, Wade, weeks… We're really overdue for a good killing spree. Mm, I can already smell the sweet scent of blood spurting from arterial wounds!}

[Oh yeah, that's a fantastic idea. That won't make Spider-Man look bad at all. The media is talking shit about him? Oh, no problem. His insane mercenary boyfriend will just murder them all. If they even figure out it's you, that is. They seem to be idiots, so it's more likely that they'll just think Spidey did the dirty work himself. Congrats, Wade! You've managed to turn the world's purest hero into a hated murderer all by yourself!]

{Wow. You really do fuck up everything you touch, don't you?}

"Shut. Up." Wade pushed himself up off the couch and paced towards the kitchen, leaving his trench knife stuck in the cushion. He searched for a distraction. Food, beer, something to keep himself busy since Spidey had gone home to his daytime life and there was nothing Wade could do about it until tomorrow night. If he could do anything at all.

His fridge was empty. The cabinets, too.

[You should really make a trip to the grocery sometime.] White suggested, his tone misleadingly light.

{Nah… Wade doesn't like to do that.}

[Why is that again? Oh yeah. Because wearing his suit and mask freaks people out.]

{And showing his disfigured skin makes people sick!}

Wade braced his hands on the countertop, leaning heavily against it as he squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall forward. "And no one should have to be subjected to that shit at the fucking grocery store." He whispered to himself.

[That's right.]

{No one wants to look at your disgusting face while they're buying food.}

[I bet Spidey wouldn't either. He'd be repulsed if he saw your face.]

Wade shook his head, choking back a whimper. "He's seen my skin… He doesn't care." He protested, though his voice was weak, his tone flat. He knew it was a different story to see it on his face. To see the extent of the damage, the corruption and ruin done to the one part of him that was supposed to look human.

[Even if he meant that, it won't be true. Even if he had his cock buried in your ass, if you took off the mask there's no way he wouldn't puke all over you.]

{And that is not one of our many kinks…}

[No one could ever stand to look at your ugly, miserable face and still want you. No one.]

Wade took a shallow, shuddering breath. "Peter did."

[What was that?]

He took another breath, forcing himself to raise his voice above a small, broken mumble. "Peter did. He saw my face but he… He kissed me anyway."

[I'm sorry. Are you using the child that you cheated on your boyfriend with to make your point?]

{Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe Petey-Pie is the one we should be shacking up with! He was always such a sweet little thing. Those Bambi eyes, that ass…}

[Well, it's too late now either way. You think Peter is ever going to want to talk to you again? After you shut him down like that?]

"We had to." Wade explained hoarsely. "He's too… We could never. Too good. We'd fucking ruin him."

{Yeah, but did you have to be so mean about it? You left so fast we didn't even get to find out what freaked his fluffy little bunny tail in the first place.}

[Yesss… That's right. Parker was scared of something.]

{He came to you for help.}

[Do you think someone hurt him?]

"No. No no no no no…" Wade stood up straight and pressed his fists to the eye patches of his mask. "He said no."

{Maybe he was getting some unwanted attention. Like that time we had to rescue him from that bar? Man, those wolves wanted to snatch him right up like the tasty little morsel he is.}

[Do you think he was raped?]

Wade put a fist through a cabinet door, his chest heaving as the wood splintered around his knuckles. "Shut. The fuck. Up."

{Maybe he was in trouble, and you left him there.}

[Maybe he got hurt after you left him. Because you didn't help him.]

{Maybe it's your fault.}

Wade stomped out of the kitchen, ignoring his burning throat as he grabbed Bea and Arthur from the floor and slung them onto his back. He had wrenched the door open and was tearing down the hallway in less than three seconds, paying no mind to the sound of nighttime news still blaring from his apartment.

{Wait, where the shit titties are we going?}

"To check on Peter." Wade growled, taking the stairs three at a time.

[Oh good. Sounds like a great idea.] The flat sarcasm oversaturated White's words.

{Aw… I'm disappointed. Been a while since we played Russian Roulette with a full chamber.}

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Stalking isn't cool, kids.]

{Sure it is! Totally cool! Like smoking cigarettes and getting piercings in weird places.}

"It's fucking hard during the daytime." Wade complained as he leapt across yet another alley and jumped off the railing of a fire escape to hook his fingers over the edge of his next rooftop. He grunted as he hauled himself up and over, rolling through the landing so he could leap to his feet and keep running. At least his parkour skills were getting a brush up.

[Maybe someone shouldn't have worn their supervillain costume out during morning rush hour.]

{Hey, we're not a supervillain! We're a lovable antihero. Just take a look at our comics.}

"We didn't have time to change." Wade reminded them as he ran close to the edge, peering down onto the crowded sidewalk to catch a glimpse of that beautiful brown hair. He couldn't lose him. Not since Peter had taken the wrong subway and it was clear that he was not going to school this morning. That gorgeous head took a left turn at the next intersection and Wade pulled out his grappling gun, hoping that no one in the sea of taxicabs would look up as he swung over the bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Yes, he was stalking Peter Parker. Yes, he knew it wasn't really a moral thing to do. But if you added up all the bad things Wade Wilson had ever done, stalking a sixteen-year-old boy couldn't even be called the tip of the iceberg. So, you know, don't worry about it.

He'd camped out on the roof across from Peter's bedroom window last night. Yeah, again, Wade was aware that that was totally creepy and wrong and blah blah blah whatever, but he had to check if the kid was alright.

Peter had been sitting on his bed. Not sleeping, like most normal kids would be by four o'clock in the morning on a school night. He'd just been sitting there, in his adorable pajama pants and Calvin and Hobbes t-shirt, staring at the wall for far too long. It had been dark in his room, but Wade hadn't had much trouble seeing Peter's wide my-mother-just-got-killed-by-a-hunter-and-now-I'm-drowning-in-chocolate-tears eyes through his handy-dandy binoculars.

{See! We're always prepared for a little light stalking. Winky face.}

[To be fair, we used to take mercenary jobs that required quite a bit of surveillance work, so the equipment was already at our disposal. And also, please never say winky face again.]

{Winky face. Poop emoji. Eggplant emoji.]

[No.]

Peter finally lay down on his bed almost an hour later, but Wade wasn't sure if he actually slept. He had no idea why the kid was up in the middle of the night, looking shell-shocked as fuck, but it put Wade on edge. Whatever had happened was bad. Really bad. And it must have been whatever had rattled him the previous afternoon, because this couldn't be about Wade. No way. Sure, maybe Peter had developed a tiny little crush on the older guy he'd met at a nursing home because he'd saved him from that scary bar in Queens or something, but it didn't mean anything. Wade didn't mean anything to him.

So he stayed there for what was left of the night, watching Peter's room through his stalker-oculars and trying not to listen to all of the gruesome scenarios White and Yellow thought up to explain the strange behavior. A little before seven in the morning, May Parker came in through the bedroom door. She and Peter shared a long, tight hug before disappearing into the rest of the apartment. It made Wade's fingers tingle with discomfort, because it wasn't a normal good-morning-sunshine hug, if there was such a thing. It was a hug meant to comfort.

What had happened to make Peter and May need comfort?

And that's how Wade ended up following Peter across town at eight in the morning. He needed to figure out what had happened. Where he had failed to protect the one completely innocent thing in his twisted nightmare of a life.

{Maybe it's the drugs.}

"You think Peter is doing drugs?" Wade flipped off the edge of one roof to land on another ten feet below. "You're even crazier than that cuckoo bird with the coco puffs."

{It's always the drugs. You'll see.}

[Um… guys? I think we figured out where your little side pet is going.]

Wade slid to a stop on his current roof and peered around the edge of a billboard into the street below. Peter was heading straight for an extremely fancy apartment building; the kind where each resident has their own floor. The building looked vaguely familiar, and after a moment Wade remembered why that was. He hissed in anger.

It was Norman Osborn's apartment building. He'd scoped it out when he found out that shit stain was behind the new and improved Weapon X program. His only regret was not sneaking in and slaughtering the bastard in his bed; it would have saved Spidey a lot of trouble, not to mention Wade was pretty disappointed that he hadn't been able to make Evil Scientist Osborn suffer before he breathed his last breath (though stabbed by his own fucking hover thingamajig was a good way to go).

[He ran right back to his pretty boyfriend, didn't he?]

Wade's hands clenched into fists as he watched Peter slide inside the glass-paneled lobby on the first floor and proceed towards the elevators with nothing more than a polite nod towards the security desk.

{He must come here a lot.}

[See, he wasn't losing sleep over you! He was crying over his boyfriend's daddy.]

{And his boss!} Yellow added helpfully.

Wade grunted in dissatisfaction and paced across the roof for a better position. If he could just get the angle right, he'd have a direct view into the Osborn's penthouse… And… Yep, there it was. A lavish living room, kitchen full of stainless steel appliances, and one window over a spacious bedroom trimmed in greys.

{Oooh, fifty shades?}

"You wish." Wade pulled out his binoculars, realizing with only a bit of chagrin that this was the most he'd used them all month. He couldn't see anyone at the moment, but this had to be where Peter was headed. It made his stomach churn.

{Why would Peter kiss us if he has a rich, attractive, successful boyfriend already? Was he trying to use us for something? Because damn, I would totally not care as long as it got us a piece of that luscious teenage ass.}

[Again. Not that I care, but have you forgotten Spider-Man?]

{No fucking way! Gosh. But there's nothing wrong with wanting two people at the same time. The Mormons do it!}

[Right. And they're the epitome of acceptable behavior.]

"I'm getting sick of your sarcasm." Wade snapped. As much as he didn't want to be defending Mormons for fucks sake, he couldn't handle the never-ending criticism. He got it. He knew this was fucked up. He was fucked up. Being constantly reminded of that wasn't going to change anything.

[Hm. Looks like somebody struck a nerve.]

Wade ignored him, focusing his attention through the binoculars as someone moved through the kitchen and into the living room, where the elevator was located. Wade felt himself tense as he recognized Harry Osborn. His face was pale, his usually impeccable hair a bit of a mess, his eyes red. He was wearing pajamas. "Can't even get dressed on a school day morning…" Wade muttered venomously.

{Dude. His dad just died.}

"Yeah, his psycho, experimenting on humans and trying to kill Spider-Man dad. If anyone deserved to get stabbed and blown up, it was him."

{True dat. I was just kidding with the whole sympathy thing.}

[Wow. You're so funny.]

"Would you shut it?" Wade hissed, muscles trembling with anxious tension as he watched the elevator doors slide open. Peter stepped out. He had dark circles under his sorrowful eyes, and he was biting down on his lower lip in that adorable, nervous way that Wade loved so much. In the next moment, he had thrown his arms around Harry's shoulders and was holding him close, letting the older boy bury his face in that slender, beautiful neck.

Wade felt sick.

They stood there for a long time. Way longer than a casual hug between friends would last. At some point, Peter started stroking Harry's hair, and Wade felt like his blood was boiling.

{Let's kill him.} Yellow suggested, tone flat with anger. {Come on, it would be easy! You wouldn't even need a rifle from this distance. Just use Betty.}

[Great idea. I'm sure Peter wouldn't be at all traumatized by having his boyfriend's brain matter sprayed all over him.]

"Shut the fuck up." Wade couldn't stop staring. Even as he shook with barely repressed rage, pain and frustration, he had to keep watching. It was like a car crash, or a really good torture scene; he couldn't look away.

Eventually they broke apart. Peter held on to Harry's hand, though, and Wade held his breath as the two of them disappeared past the kitchen, only to reappear after a few moments in Harry's bedroom.

In Harry's fucking bedroom.

The Osborn heir (well, CEO now, as soon as the board voted him in) immediately crawled into bed and curled up on his side, a pathetic ball under a downy grey comforter. Peter sat down on the edge of the bed and continued to pet Harry's dark hair off his forehead in slow, comforting strokes. The bitter taste in Wade's mouth only intensified, coupled unpleasantly with this deep, aching emptiness stabbing through his stomach.

Occasionally, Harry's shoulders would shake gently beneath the covers, but mostly he was still. After a few minutes, Peter got up. He walked to the wall of windows. He closed the drapes.

[Well. I guess Peter thought of a better way to comfort his boyfriend.]

Peter stayed there all day.

Wade stayed there too, contemplating the pros and cons of tasting the sweet metal barrel of his Beretta M9.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[Are we going to talk about Oscorp?]

Wade grunted as jumped, caught the bottom of the iron ladder, and began to ascend the side of the building. He was not in the mood to deign White with a verbal reply.

{You spent the entire day outside the Osborns' personal penthouse and you didn't even kill the evil offspring!}

"Peter was there." He didn't bother to point out that he wasn't even sure how guilty Harry was. The kid worked closely with his father at the office, Wade knew that much. It was likely that he knew some of what was going on there, and that was enough for Wade to pass judgment on him. But none of that mattered when killing the little shit would hurt Peter Parker, one of only two people in the whole world that Wade couldn't stand to harm.

[You hurt them both, anyway. You're very good at that.]

"I know." Wade paused to rub wearily at his eyes through the mask, wishing he could take the damn thing off. As much as he loathed exposing himself, even in the privacy of his own home, the leather and spandex got really uncomfortable after wearing it for hours on end. And fuck was he tired. Not that he needed much sleep, or could get much even if he tried, but it had been a long time. Even for him.

[But seriously. What are you going to do about Oscorp?]

{Yeah, are we finally gonna blow up the building? Because I really wanna try out those new detonators Weasel bought off the Russians.}

Wade didn't answer. He was too busy imagining all the hot, beautiful, sickening sex Peter and Harry could have had during the six hours and twelve minutes they stayed in Harry's room with the curtains closed. The boxes had been happy to help him come up with scenarios until now.

[Earth to fucking Wade. Why are you such a distractible idiot? We need a plan.]

"Hate plans." He muttered as he climbed.

{Yeah, plans suck Kanye West's balls!}

[Jesus Christ, you're both useless.]

It didn't take too long for Wade to reach the roof of the Hilton Hotel. When he climbed over the side, he immediately spotted Spidey sitting on the opposite edge, shoulders slumped and feet dangling over the open air. He approached slowly, knowing the hero probably wasn't in the mood for any obnoxious singing or inappropriate jokes. To be honest, Wade wasn't much in the mood for those things either. He expected some indication that Spidey knew he was there, but he didn't move an inch as Wade crossed the rooftop. That wasn't a good sign, since he was sure the boy's 'spidey sense' or super hearing would have alerted him to Wade's presence.

When he got close enough, he could see a newspaper held in Spidey's lap. It was the Daily Planet, and the front page showed a blurry photo of Spider-Man webbing the unmasked Green Goblin to the wall. The headline read 'Spider Vigilante kills Norman Osborn, CEO of Oscorp.' Wade hissed under his breath as he dropped down to sit beside Spidey.

"Don't read that shit." He commanded, reaching out to tear the paper from red gloved hands. Spidey let it go easily, fingers slack as Wade tossed the idiotic publication into the street below. The pages separated and blew apart on the way down, raining bullshit over the city.

{Have we talked about how much I really wanna kill J. Jonah Jameson? Because I do. I wanna tear his throat out with a nail file.}

Spidey just shrugged weakly. "It's true." He muttered.

Wade turned to stare at him, incredulity clear even through his Deadpool mask. "It's not, and you know it. The green bastard did that himself. He tried to stab you to death, then blow you up! Come one, Spidey. That's not on you."

"I webbed him there." The hero's voice was full of guilt and self-loathing, and a flash of fear made Wade's chest feel tight for a moment. Spidey couldn't really believe that, could he?

Wade took his face gently but firmly between his hands and turned him so they made what passed for eye contact through the masks. "Stop that." He ordered, voice hard. A small tremble ran through Spidey's body. "This is not your fault, okay? You didn't make Norman Osborn turn into a supervillain."

[Nope. You did that! By failing to destroy all the data from your alma mater.]

Wade swallowed. "You didn't make him go after you like a crazed bloodhound. And you definitely didn't make him try to kill you. He did that." He jostled Spidey's head once, lightly. "Got it?"

He could hear Spidey's breath hitch on the inhale. "I guess."

Wade sighed, letting his hands trail down over a slender jaw and neck, settling on two slim but muscled shoulders. "How's your rotator cuff?" He asked more softly, running his fingers lightly over the injured arm.

"Fine." Spidey was looking down at the street again.

"Is it really?" Wade asked, because he probably shouldn't be swinging around on webs if he didn't have full use of his shoulder.

"Mhm."

Wade stared for a few more moments, trying his best to see through the inscrutable webbed mask to the expression underneath. Was he really… sad? About Norman Osborn? The Green Goblin? His death should be a relief, not a source of regret (unless what you regret is not being able to kill him in a slower and more painful way).

"Baby boy?" Spider-Man's diffuse attention snapped onto Wade in an instant, and Wade resisted the small shudder of arousal beneath his abs. "I know you, uh, have that whole 'no un-aliving' hero policy thing going on, and so even though it's totally not your fault the Goblin died, I get it if you mistakenly feel guilty or something. But, um…" He looked searchingly into Spidey's blank white eye patches. "You're not actually upset that he's dead, right?"

Spidey went rigid beneath Wade's touch, and the sudden wave of agitation he sent out made Wade's fingers itch with the need to hold a weapon of some kind. "Of course I am." He spoke through gritted teeth, the words clipped with tension.

{Uh… I'm not the only one who's confused, right?}

[You're always confused.]

But Yellow was right. Wade was perplexed; why would Spidey be upset by this? He no longer had to fear for himself or his family. His whole life could go back to normal now. Or, what passed for normal in Spider-Man's life, at least. That had to be a good thing, right? "But Spidey… He deserved it." Wade stated simply.

Spider-Man tore himself away and was on his feet in less than a second, his chest suddenly heaving as he glared down at Wade. "No." He argued, and although Wade could tell he was struggling not to yell, he wasn't having much success. "He fucking didn't. No one deserves to die, Wade. No one."

{Oh, fuck no. He did not just say that.}

Anger sparked hot and bitter on Wade's tongue. "You're not stupid enough to seriously believe that."

"Yeah, apparently I am!" Spidey spat back, throwing his arms in the air as he turned to pace away.

Wade leapt to his feet. "You can't argue with me that rapists and human traffickers, pedophiles and the Hitlers of the world don't deserve an early meeting with Lady Death, for everybody's sake."

"I could." Spidey whirled back around, practically radiating fury. "But that's irrelevant. Norman Osborn wasn't any of those things."

Wade glowered. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

{Is he fucking kidding? That sack of shit was most definitely evil. As evil as they fucking come.}

Spidey was shaking his head. "He did bad things, sure. He was… disturbed. But he wasn't irredeemable. He hadn't passed the point of no return."

Wade couldn't believe what he was hearing.

[To be fair…] White spoke up reluctantly. [He doesn't know about the human experimentation.]

{Oh, yeah. He doesn't, does he? Why haven't we told him about that?}

"Didn't want to add to his worries." Wade muttered distractedly. Maybe if he told Spidey the full extent of Norman's indiscretions, the hero wouldn't feel so bad about his death. "Look. Spidey, baby." He carefully reached out to take one trembling hand, pulling the tense little body a bit closer to him. "You don't have to feel so bad, okay? There were, um, some things I didn't tell you, because I didn't know they were related to the Green Goblin."

[Yeah, and how you missed that I have no idea. It was so obvious. Didn't you hear what Weasel said the green serum did?]

{Hey, now. You missed it too, Mr. I Know Everything.}

Spidey was looking at him a bit warily, but at least his trembling had died down, and he allowed Wade to pull him back to sit on the edge of the roof again. "What kind of things?" He asked.

"Well, um…" Right. How much should he tell, exactly?

[Oh, I think Spider-Man would love to hear about how you slaughtered all those scientists, strangled them with their own intestines and slit the proffered throats of those pitiful science experiments. How you painted the Oscorp labs red.]

{You think he would? But he was just talking about how people didn't deserve to die…}

[Seriously, how are you this dense?]

Wade shook his head a little, silently urging the boxes to shut the fuck up so he could think. He'd tell Spidey everything he knew about Osborn, he'd just leave out the slicing and dicing bits. "Right, so… I kind of investigated Oscorp a while ago. I heard they were doing some not so great things with, um, old Weapon X stuff. Which I thought I had wiped off the face of the earth, but apparently not."

[Idiot.]

"You're the idiot. Anyway. I took a peak at Oscorp's secret little science experiments, and turns out they were picking up right where my dear old creators left off." Wade tried not to let his tone turn flat and bitter, but it was a losing battle. "Had a whole host of unwilling prisoners. Torture chambers. Evil science experiments. The whole shebang."

"Oh my god." Spidey sounded shocked.

[I don't know why he would be, knowing what Norman Osborn tried to do to him.]

{Our sweet little spider baby is too forgiving!}

[Yeah. Look how he is with you, Wade.]

"But, why? What were they trying to do?"

The question pulled Wade from his thoughts, and he responded automatically, voice bleeding with scathing disgust. "Does it fucking matter?"

Spidey flinched back slightly, his hand twitching in Wade's gentle grip. "I mean… No. Not really. I just… Wanted to know."

Wade sighed, deflating a little in the face of his lover's hesitancy. "Sorry, Baby Boy. I'm just, uh… A little sensitive when it comes to human experimentation."

"I know." Spidey's voice softened, and he raised his free hand to cup Wade's jaw against his palm, fingertips curling over one rough cheekbone. "I'm sorry."

Wade leaned into the touch, chest aching with relief he hadn't know he'd been seeking. "S'okay." He mumbled, taking a moment before straightening up again. "They were, uh, trying to make some sort of serum. Like a drug that gives you superpowers, but not permanently." He watched Spidey's head tip sideways in interest, and he quickly shot down any questions the curious spider might have been tempted to ask. "I don't know any more details than that, really. No idea how the shit worked, but I guess it did. That's what Osborn was taking, to make him so strong and fast and whatever the fuck else he was."

"Deranged." Peter supplied, understanding blooming through his words. "That's why… That's why he was so, you know, unhinged. The serum must have been affecting his mind somehow."

Wade frowned. "How do you know he wasn't always like that? It takes a pretty fucked up mind to want to use human beings as lab rats."

{Yeah. Like fucking pansy ass dickface ball-sucking Francis.}

"From what I know, Norman Osborn was always a very tightly controlled man. He was extremely intelligent and strategic; he had to be to build the second biggest tech company in the world. But the Green Goblin was… Completely out of control." He looked out over the city. "Maybe Norman did always have the capacity for evil in him. But I think taking whatever drug he cooked up made it a whole lot worse."

Wade shrugged half-heartedly. "Yeah, maybe. Or maybe he was just a batshit murdering psycho." He squeezed the hand he still held, dwarfed inside his own. "It doesn't matter. Either way, he was way over the line. Past redemption. Bad to the bone. All that good shit. So you don't gotta feel bad about him dying, okay Spidey-Babe? No one's gonna miss the bastard."

Spidey shook his head, shifting away from Wade to pull his knees into his chest and wrap his arms around his legs, curling into a ball. The position was an unusually vulnerable one to see Spider-Man in, and it made that terrible fear and worry stir in Wade's stomach again. "He had a son." The hero said, words muffled against his knees where he hid his face. "Someone will miss him."

{Jesus Christ with a hacky sack now Spidey's worried about Harry Osborn? God I fucking hate that stupid Burberry model kid and his stupid pretty face and his stupid perfect hair and nice body.}

[I'm confused, Yellow. Do you want to kill the Osborn kid or fuck him?]

Yellow paused to consider, and Wade had to choke back a growl. {Kill. Definitely kill.}

Wade placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on Spidey's lower back. "I'm sure even his son is better off without him. A person like that doesn't deserve to breath the same air as someone like you, Spidey."

That spider mask whipped up to face Wade. "How can you say that?" His words were distraught.

Wade stiffened in surprise. Why was he angry? Wade had been trying to comfort him.

[And clearly, you suck at it.]

{You just make everything worse.}

"Um…" Wade wasn't sure how to answer. "Well, see, my mouth just kind of opens and then my tongue is moving and words, they just sort of come out like –"

"Stop it!" Spidey snapped, his body radiating tension once again as he moved away from the mercenary's touch, and the knot forming in Wade's stomach tightened painfully. "You don't have to be such a dick about it."

[Wow. You can't even comfort your so-called boyfriend without making him hate you.]

{Fucking hell Wade, why did you have to fuck this up too?}

Wade licked his lips nervously, hating the panicky, anxious feeling that was starting to make it a little harder to breath. "I'm… Sorry?" He didn't know where he'd gone wrong, what he was apologizing for. He'd been sure that Spidey would feel better if he knew what that Norman's death was no loss for the world, but it just seemed to have made everything worse.

[You always make everything worse.]

{You're fucked up.}

[A failure.]

{Wrong.}

[Broken.]

{Fucked in the head.}

[That's why you can't help Spidey. You can't even understand his pain.]

{You're a fucking psychopath.}

[Death isn't a Bad Thing to you.]

{It's a Good Thing.}

[It turns you on.]

{You sick bastard.}

[You disgust Spidey.]

{Scare him.}

[He hates you.]

Wade found himself hunched over, his breath coming in short, labored huffs as he clutched at the sides of his head, the clamoring inside his mind drowning everything else out. But then there were hands laid gently over his, fingers trailing down his shoulders, gripping onto his arms. A sweet voice saying his name over and over, like crystal and rain water. Calling him back to the surface.

"Wade. Wade! Wade, it's okay. Wade."

He gasped, yanking himself back to reality as he straightened up and let his hands fall into his lap, heart pounding as he struggled for control. "Shit. Fuck, sorry." He grunted in frustration, fists hitting uselessly against his thighs. "God, why do I have to be so goddamn… Fuck."

"Sh…" Spidey grabbed hold of his hands and stubbornly worked his fingers apart until they could be held more comfortably. "You're fine, Wade. I'msorry. I'm being really unfair. I'm just… Upset. But I shouldn't take it out on you." He leaned forward, nuzzling into Wade's shoulder. "Are you okay?" He asked, and Wade imagined that he could feel the warmth of his breath through thin spandex and worn leather.

He turned his head slightly, calming down as he leaned over to press a soft kiss to the top of Spidey's head and take a deep breath of his clean, sweet scent. "Yeah. I'm fine, Baby Boy."

[And now he's the one comforting you. Pathetic.]

It was pathetic, wasn't it? Desperate to find some way to make his boyfriend feel better so he wouldn't be a complete and utter failure (any more than he already was), Wade pulled one hand free from Spidey's to dig into a pouch on his belt.

"Nope, not that one." He muttered, feeling the heavy, comforting clink of loose bullets against his fingers. He tried one pouch over. "Bingo." He pulled out a heaping handful of crinkling wrapped candies and held them out Spidey. "Want a mint?" They were peppermints, all red and white (not spearmint because that shit sucks balls), the kind you might pick up on the way out of a nice-but-not-too-nice restaurant.

Spidey stared down at the offering, speechless for a moment, before he laughed softly. The sound was like music to Wade's ears.

{Even better than Sarah McLachlan. He has the laugh of a fucking angel… And the ass of a Greek god. Damn.}

[It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness.]

"That's why you smell like peppermint." He chuckled, delicately taking one single mint from Wade's palm and holding it up in front of his face, like he was examining it. "And taste like it." He murmured, so quiet that Wade almost didn't hear him.

{Is it working? Are we making him feel better?}

"I… Think so." Wade whispered, watching Spidey's mask carefully. He didn't look at the mint for long, but curled his fingers around it, keeping it even if he wasn't eating it right now. Wade felt a hopeful smile twitching at his lips.

"Why do you have so many?" Spidey asked, the hint of curiosity faint but still present in his voice. "Do you eat them a lot?"

Wade shrugged, letting the rest of the mints spill carelessly from his open palm all over the roof between them. "I buy them in bulk." He admitted. "I'll suck on 'em if I have to stay still for a long time. Y'know, if I'm staking out a building or something."

[You mean a mark. No need to sugar-coat it; why don't you tell Spider-Man the truth? I'm sure he'd love to hear it right now.]

"Oh." Spidey let his mint fall down among the others, lost in the scattered sea between them. Wade deflated a little, but tried not to let his disappointment show.

{You freaked him out again. That's just great. Why can't you keep your big mouth shut for once?}

Before Wade could work himself up trying to think of a better way to improve Spidey's mood, the hero's head cocked to the side, his masked gaze going distant in a classic 'I hear something with my super-hearing' look.

"What is it?" Wade asked quickly, perking up as he went into ready mode, eyes already scanning the surrounding area for any potential danger even though he knew whatever Spidey was hearing must be too far away to see.

Spidey hummed in concentration. "Sounds like a… Jet. But quieter."

Wade narrowed his eyes at the horizon.

{Is it SHIELD? I fucking hate those cocksuckers.}

[Yes. SHIELD sent a jet plane after us in the middle of New York City. Of course not, you imbecile.]

"Worse." Wade muttered, jaw clenching as he caught sight of something small and red making its way towards them over the cityscape. Spidey climbed to his feet, clearly having seen the same thing, and Wade quickly followed.

Within a few seconds, Iron Man was swooping towards them, slowing down as he passed over their heads and straightened out, his hand and foot propulsors leveling with the ground and lowering him down with a loud whoosh of air. He hit the rooftop with a metallic bang, and Wade drew Betty from his hip. He couldn't help it.

"Wade." Spidey scolded quietly, one hand landing lightly on his forearm. Wade pouted, but he slid the gun back into its holster.

[How fucking whipped are you? I'm disgusted.]

He could draw and shoot in less than a quarter of a second, anyway, so it didn't really matter if he held the weapon or not. He just liked to look intimidating.

"Spider-Man." The giant robotic suit greeted Spidey, filtered voice almost eerily similar to the Green Goblin's distorted nightmare tone, but recognizably different as Tony Stark's world-famous amber tenor. A turn of that flat robot head gave the distinct impression that Stark was casting a disapproving look towards Wade. "Is this asshole bothering you?"

Wade gritted his teeth, but forced out an obnoxiously cheery tone as he raised his right hand to wave enthusiastically. "Hey Iron Balls, how's it hanging?"

{Balls… Hanging. Ha! I get it. That's funny.}

The hero beside him was not so upbeat. "No, Mr. Stark. He's not." Wade couldn't help the swell of affection he felt as he glanced sideways at Spidey's determined jawline and tensed shoulders.

{It's not like we'd expect him to stand up for us to Tin for Brains. He's got to build his hero cred, y'know? Pretending not to know his morally ambiguous mercenary boyfriend is probably par for the course.}

"He's too nice for that." Wade murmured under his breath, still in awe of the kid's never-ending goodness.

"Fine. Well, I hate to interrupt this little rooftop party," Stark sounded like he would enjoy nothing more in the whole world. "But I need to speak to you." His face plate shot a pointed, if somewhat blank, look in Wade's direction. "Alone."

[Time for the heroes to talk, so you're obviously not welcome.]

{Because we kill people!} Yellow elaborated brightly.

Wade gave off an exaggerated eye roll. "Alright, alright. I get it. The hero club is now in session. I'll get out of your hair." He took a step backwards, towards the edge of the roof. "I'm busy anyway. Y'know, things to maim, people to kill. Just don't vote on naked Thursdays while I'm gone, because I have a PowerPoint presentation that's definitely gonna knock your socks off."

He was ready to go, leave them to it, really he was. But Spidey's hand found his forearm again, stopping him with nothing more than a gentle touch. "No. He stays."

Wade's gaze snapped towards the web slinger, jaw falling open in surprise. Righteous determination was etched in every line of Spidey's body, and if they hadn't had a witness, Wade might have fallen to his knees and asked to suck that amazing, incredible, glorious hero off right then and there.

{Hey, we don't mind an audience…}

"Stop messing around." Iron Man stepped forward menacingly, his tone annoyed even beneath the flat affect of mechanical production. "I said I need to talk to you."

Spidey's jaw only tightened, and Wade grinned shamelessly, knowing his spider stubbornness was flaring up. "And I said, he stays."

Iron Man stared at Spider-Man. Spider-Man stared at Iron Man. Wade watched the showdown with rapt attention, finding the situation entirely more gleeful than was appropriate. After a few tense, drawn out moments, Iron Man looked away with a choked sound of disgust.

Wade cheered. "Yeah! Suck on that, bitches! Deadpool gets to stay in the clubhouse!"

"Your charity case can stay." Stark conceded grudgingly. "But you better keep him on a tight leash." He raised one glowing hand, palm out towards Wade. "Or I won't hesitate to blast him into so many pieces, it'll take days for him to grow another body."

{Are we a charity case?}

[Obviously.]

"Ha!" Wade leaned forward on his toes, crowing obnoxiously. "Joke's on you! It only takes me a few hours to grow back from eviscerated little bits! This one time, I got blown up by a land mine 'cause I was trying to play soccer with it, and there were pieces of me scattered over a hundred yards but it still only took –"

"Pool." Spidey stopped him with a stern word, and Wade's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth on teeth.

"Sorry, Spidey. I'll be good." He mimed zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key.

Spidey crossed his arms over his chest, taking a step forward to put himself between Wade and the billion-dollar man. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

Stark let out a long sigh, his visor flipping up to reveal tired eyes and his douchebag goatee. "You weren't, uh, where you were supposed to be today, kid. I went looking for you."

Wade looked curiously at Spidey, but he just shrugged. "Yeah, I skipped school. Had some stuff to deal with."

Stark's disapproving dad frown was pretty good, even Wade had to admit. "You can't make that a habit. Routines need to be kept; if anyone –"

"Is that what you came here to talk about?" Spidey interrupted, clipped words a shocking departure from the usual respect and reverence that Wade was used to hearing in his voice when he talked about the great Mr. Stark.

There was a beat, then Stark's dark eyes narrowed. "No. You know what I came to talk about."

"So get on with it."

Another long-suffering sigh from the Iron Giant. "Why didn't you call me for help?"

Spidey went stiff beside him, and Wade's warning system immediately buzzed in the back of his head.

{Pooly Sense!}

[No.]

"I didn't have time." Spidey muttered.

"Bullshit. I told you to call if you ever got in over your head. You shouldn't be handling those things on your own, kid, it's not –"

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold up." Wade stuck out one hand, palm out, and planted the other on his hip. "Are you implying that the amazing Spider-Man couldn't handle one little deranged supervillain? Because clearly, he handled it just fine."

{Well, he needed you to save him from that ridiculously obvious bomb – seriously authors, you couldn't do any better than that?}

Wade turned his head to the side to hiss under his breath. "Well I was there, wasn't I?"

[Only because you hunted him down.] White reminded. [He didn't call you, either.]

"Deadpool." Spidey scolded, a harsh edge to his tone that had Wade's skin prickling with anxiety. He crossed his arms over his chest and pressed his lips together in a tight line, fighting the urge to keep arguing his point.

"Listen to your keeper, Wilson." Stark sneered. "The grown-ups are talking now."

Wade bristled at that, bitter acid flooding across his tongue. His name wasn't the best kept secret in town, but it wasn't exactly common knowledge, either. Of course Tony Stark would have the resources to access any and all files on Deadpool (and there were many, kept by a variety of top government and criminal organizations), but his use of Wade's given name was definitely a low blow among the masked community.

{Fucking shoot his face off. It's right there, wide open! We could totally put at least three rounds in his forehead before he'd have a chance to blink.}

Spidey literally stepped in before Wade could react, moving more solidly between he and Iron Dick. "I didn't even know if you were in town." He told Stark, continuing their conversation (if you could call it that). "And it was a… time sensitive situation."

Starks eyes flashed with annoyance. "I was. I would've come. And even if I hadn't been around, I could've sent someone, or at least one of the suits."

"He doesn't need your help, dickwad." Wade couldn't help but interject, his blood practically boiling with hatred for the entitled billionaire jerk-off. "He handled it."

"Not well." Stark snapped.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Wade crowded up against Spidey's back and his fingers twitched towards his hip holsters, the itch for violence crawling across his skin. He was a full head taller than the young hero, so he glared easily over him at Iron Man, lines of his body gone sharp and menacing.

"Deadpool." Spidey turned half-way to place a restraining hand on his chest, pushing him back several inches with no effort at all.

{Damn, that's hot.}

"Back down." Spidey commanded. "He's right."

Wade's gaze snapped to his face. "What the fuck? He's not. He's a fucking idiot." He glared at Iron Man again, anger burning hotter with the knowledge that he'd managed to convince Spidey, perfect wonderful pure Spidey, that he'd done something wrong here. "You're a fucking idiot. If you don't fly your fat metal ass back to your big phallic shaped man-palace right fucking now, I swear to all the gods I know I'll tear your fucking –"

"Wade." Spidey hissed sharply, curling his fingers around both katana straps and jostling him backwards. "Stop it." Wade went still, the words dying in his throat.

{Shit. Look what you did now. You embarrassed him in front of Iron Maiden!}

[Not like we could expect any different… Wade can't act like an adult to save his miserable life.]

"Look." Stark had a sneer on his face again, like he was looking at a particularly nasty insect. "As much as I enjoy being yelled at and threatened by an unhinged sociopath with the intelligence and maturity of a five-year-old, how about we continue our conversation without the loser?" He waved a dismissive hand in their direction. "Tell your pet to get lost."

Spidey made a sharp noise of displeasure and turned back to face Stark, hands curling into fists at his side. "He's not a sociopath, or stupid, or a loser." His tone left no room for negotiation, and his fierce defense of Wade caused a pleased sort of warmth to bloom in his stomach. "He's not my pet. And I said he stays. Deal with it."

{I wouldn't mind being Spidey's pet… Crawling around on our hands and knees and barking like a good dog. We could be ready to present whenever he's feeling frisky and all he'd have to do is pull out our dog-tail plug and sink right in. Mm…}

[You would be into pet play, you sick fuck.]

{Isn't everyone? Oh my god. Can you imagine a little spidey-kitty? Oh my gooooood holy fuck he'd be the cutest damn thing since Puss 'n' Boots, NO, even cuter. Holy shit we need to get on Amazon and order cat ears right fucking now. Two day Prime delivery. Click!}

[We need to get you on Adderall.]

Iron Man looked incredulous. "I seriously don't get why you let him hang around. I was willing to let it slide when I thought you were just trying to be nice, get the big bad mercenary to reform and quit killing. But it looks like the opposite is happening, kid. You need to be careful."

Spidey crossed his arms over his chest and Wade could see his muscles quivering with tension. "Deadpool has nothing to do with my mistakes."

Wade stared between them, realization creeping through his mind like a virus.

{Are we rubbing off on Spidey? Making him not as good of a hero?}

[Of course we are. I warned you that would happen. Our crazy rubs off on everything we touch, contaminating everyone. Poisoning them.]

"Are you sure about that?" Stark was giving Spidey a hard, searching look. "All your problems seemed to start just after you met him. And I know he was there last night."

{That's true… Is it possible that we're responsible for all this shit?}

"Guilty by association is not a fair evaluation." Spidey ground out through a tight jaw.

Iron Man stared for another long, silent moment. "Fine." He turned one wrist towards his face to check some sort of read out on a small screen built into the suit. "We can talk more about that later. I hope you're not planning on patrolling tonight." His voice carried a casual warning, an implication of expected obedience.

Spidey shifted slightly on his feet. "Of course I am. Crime isn't going to stop just because I'm going through a crisis."

Stark glared in warning. "That's not a good idea, kid."

"I'm not a kid. I can make my own decisions." The anger was laced through Spidey's words now, and Wade's heartrate kicked up a notch, hyping up for a fight.

{You go, gurl.}

Stark stepped forward, closing the space between them. "You are a kid. And that suit is a privilege, not a right. If I need to take it back until you can learn how to be responsible, I will."

Wade could see Spidey trembling, retort on the tip of his tongue, but he interrupted before they could get into a real argument, pulling the attention to himself. "Back your ass the fuck up, Iron Giant. You're not taking anything from anybody." He didn't need to push Spidey out of the way; he just glowered at Stark, intentions clear as crystal by the threat in his words.

"I made the suit." Stark stated haughtily, as if that justified him acting like he owned everything in the whole goddamn world.

"Hip hip hurray, motherfucker. I made this suit but that don't mean shit. It wouldn't matter if ten underfed kids in Taiwan made it; it's mine because it's mine. Are you Spider-Man?" He left a moment of silence suspended in the air. "No. So it's not yours."

He could see Stark grinding his teeth together from feet away, the exasperation written clearly across his features. "You could argue that." He finally managed. "But it doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't be patrolling for a while." He refocused on Spidey, who seemed to have relaxed incrementally once the threat of having his suit taken away was no longer viable.

"People still need my help." He argued, always the hero.

"You've seen the news." Stark said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Whether it's true or not, you've seen what they're saying about you."

He watched Spidey's shoulders tense even more, misery and anxiety washing over him in almost palpable waves. "Fuck the news." Wade spat, unable to take the sight of his sweet little spider so burdened by those assholes' insignificant opinions.

{Yeah, fuck 'em! And slice 'em up. Spread them out in itty little bits and pieces across the studio walls, turn on the cameras… Damn, what a show that'd be.}

Iron Man continued on, ignoring his outburst. "The people won't trust you now."

"Fuck the people!"

Both heroes turned to look at Wade, and he could imagine Spidey's expression matching Stark's unobscured look of utter disbelief and disgust.

[Not the right thing to say, Wade. Your lack of self-control never ceases to amaze me.]

But he couldn't stop himself, spurred on by the awkward silence hanging in the air between them. "Who cares what anyone thinks? Spidey can do whatever the fuck he wants, because he's a hero. He does good, so people's stupid little opinions don't mean shit."

"Being a hero doesn't give me a free pass, Pool." Spidey disagreed gently.

Iron Man bowled over the younger hero's words, arguing much more viciously. "Public opinion matters. If you had an ounce of intelligence in that screwed up head of yours, you'd realize that a hero is much less effective when people don't trust him."

[That's true, moron.]

{You really are fucked up, aren't you? They'll never let you be a card-carrying member of the club at this rate.}

Wade's jaw clenched and unclenched, anger like a hot poker in the back of his throat. He deflected. "How come you assume all heroes are male, Iron Asshole?"

Stark threw up his hands in irritation. "Jesus, you're such a psycho I can't even talk to you!"

{Limit reached.} Yellow snapped.

Wade pushed Spidey out of the way and drew his highest caliber gun. He had it pointed at Tony Stark's face in less than a quarter of a second, just as promised. A full half second later, Iron Man's face plate snapped back into place and one glowing, revved up arc reactor palm was pointing straight at him.

"Go on." Iron Man's distorted mechanical voice taunted him ruthlessly. "I'm dying for you to try. I would love an excuse to blast you out of existence and spare the world your miserable presence for a few hours."

Wade's trigger finger twitched with desire, but he held himself in check. There was no way he would risk a bullet ricocheting off that stupid impenetrable suit and hitting any part of his precious spider.

"Stop it, both of you." Spidey's voice cut through the tension between them, heavy with disappointment, and Wade's stomach sank like a rock. He lowered his gun.

[You just can't stop fucking up, can you? All you do is cause him trouble.]

Iron Man did not lower his hand. "Leave town, Deadpool." He ordered. "I don't know why you're still here, but it's been long enough. Move on. You've caused enough trouble."

Wade swallowed back a bitter taste, and for a moment, he wondered if Stark was right. Maybe he was just a burden to Spider-Man. Maybe he should step back, give him some space.

But then Spidey moved back between them, all of his beautiful righteous anger directed at Iron Man, for Wade. "I think you should go, Mr. Stark." His voice was hard. "I'll take tonight off and think about what you said. Now please leave us alone." And just like that, Wade remembered why he would never leave unless Spidey sent him away. Because he was beautiful and strong and perfect and for some reason he wanted Wade around. Wanted to be with him, and Wade was far too selfish to ever walk away from that.

Iron Man stood frozen for a moment, then he lowered his arm. "Fine." Even through the voice filter, his tone was stiff and brisk. "I'll speak with you later." Not lingering any longer, he pointed his palms towards the ground and took off, his jet propulsion leaving little streaks of blue behind as he sped off towards the city lights.

"Bye, Anthony!" Wade waved after him. "Baby bye, bye, bye. Bye, bye!"

{Couldn't pass up a little *NSYNC, although I'd rate your enthusiasm at a four out of ten}

There was a moment of silence as the sound of Iron Man's flight faded into the distance. Wade watched Spidey, wary of his mood after that tumultuous rooftop meeting. "You okay?" He asked hesitantly.

Spidey sighed. "Yeah." He didn't sound all that okay, but the tension was draining from his small body as he stepped in close to Wade and let his forehead rest on his chest.

Wade gladly wrapped his arms around the hero's shoulders, holding him close as relief coursed through his veins. "Good." He murmured, feeling himself relaxing too as Tony I'm-a-Dick Stark moved farther and farther away from them. "Wanna patrol, then?" He asked after a minute of quiet embracing.

Spidey shook his head, keeping his face pressed against Wade's body. "No." He muttered. "Mr. Stark is right, even if he was a jerk about it."

Wade frowned. "He wasn't right, Spidey. The city needs you, whether they know it or not."

"Maybe so." He responded tiredly. "But I should probably let things settle down for at least a night or two, or I might cause more harm than good." He shifted to wind his arms around Wade's waist, pressing just a bit closer, and softness bloomed in Wade's chest until he was completely unwilling to argue with his sweet little spider.

"Okay." He acquiesced, siding one palm slowly down the line of Spidey's spine until his hand settled over his lower back, fingers caressing the gentle curve at the top of his perfect ass. Spidey hummed, a soft little sound pressed into the leather over Wade's chest, and tenderness so fierce and powerful that it made his throat close up seized Wade in a steely grip, stealing his breath away.

{Love.} Yellow sighed dreamily.

White made a nonverbal sound of disgruntled disgust.

Still in the grips of whatever strong emotion had him nearly close to tears, Wade tipped his head down to press his lips to the top of Spidey's head through their masks. Spidey made another quiet noise of contentment, breaking Wade's heart even more, and leaned back to meet him half-way. He detangled one hand to move their masks out of the way, gentle and unhurried, and the ache in Wade's chest intensified. When their mouths met, slow and comforting, the tenderness deepened into something more heated.

{Mm. We like this, yes we do.}

Wade parted Spidey's soft lips with his own, deepening their kiss with careful intensity. Spidey slid one hand up to curl around the back of the mercenary's neck, holding him close as their tongues met and moved together with warm, easy chemistry. Wade let his hand slide lower, cupping Spidey's ass and squeezing, little tendrils of arousal quickly spreading through his body.

Spidey pulled back a little with a small, precious gasp, breaking the depth of their kiss to peck gently at Wade's lips instead.

{Aw, no, keep going! Sex always makes people feel better, right? We can at least comfort Spidey this way.}

Spurred on by the desire to make his boyfriend's night a little better (and, let's be honest, by the desire to get some), Wade nipped sensually at Spidey's luscious bottom lip, sliding his other hand from his shoulder blade down to his hip, and pulled the hero closer as he pressed one heavily muscled thigh between his legs.

Spidey shuddered, his hand clenching around the back of Wade's neck, but he pulled back again, mouth open as quiet breaths rushed in and out. "Wade…" He murmured, a quiet warning. But the sight and sound of his name on those lips, wet and glistening, breathless, sent heat and need curling through Wade's stomach.

"Sh, Baby Boy." He murmured back, scraping his teeth across the curve of his jaw and trailing kisses down his beautiful neck. "I want you to feel good." He tightened his grip on that sharp hipbone, swiping his gloved thumb lower over the thin fabric of Spidey's suit, and pressed his quickly hardening length into the line of Spidey's thigh, muffling a quiet hum of appreciation in the juncture of his shoulder.

Spidey squirmed, a choked moan escaping his parted lips, but in the next moment he found Wade's shoulders with his hands and pushed him away, separating them. "Wade." He repeated, tone gentle but firm. "I don't, um… Mm." His tongue swept over his lips, an entirely too distracting motion. "I don't want to, right now."

Wade blinked at him, arousal draining from his body as quickly as the shock and shame rushed in. "Oh." Shit. Wade dropped his hands like Spidey had burned him. He backed up a step. Two steps, just to make sure. Fuck.

[Way to go, creep. Pushing yourself on him again, when he doesn't even want you.]

"Sorry, it's just…" Spidey wiped the back of one hand across his mouth. "I'm just… Tired. I feel…"

Wade shook his head quickly. "No, no. It's fine. Totally fine. No explanation needed. I'm sorry I… Yeah. Sorry." Bitter guilt and self-disgust gathered in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him.

"You don't need to be sorry." Spidey offered kindly.

[Yes, you do.]

Wade nodded distractedly, stomach churning at the realization of his carelessness. Of course he shouldn't assume that Spidey wanted him all the time.

{I suppose it would take a certain kind of mood to be able to get it up for you…}

"Right. Yeah. Well, uh…" Wade remembered that his mask was pushed up and hurried to yank it back down, covering his repulsive skin. "You should, probably, um, go home and get some sleep then."

Spidey nodded slowly, gazing down at the ground for a moment. "Yeah. That's probably a good idea." And he did sound tired. Exhausted, really. He took a small breath before stepping close to Wade again and leaning up to press a kiss over his masked cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." He murmured.

Wade nodded in silent agreement, keeping his hands safely at his sides until Spidey stepped away again.

Spider-Man hesitated at the edge of the roof, glancing over his shoulder at the frozen mercenary. "Goodnight, Wade."

"Night." He managed, raising one hand in a motionless wave, and watched Spidey swing away into the night.

The silence was deafening. But not for long. Never for long.

[Jesus you're disgusting. Can't help yourself, can you?]

{Spidey's always so fucking hot… It wouldn't be such a big deal if we just went ahead and took what we wanted every once in a while. He's nice, I bet he wouldn't mind!}

Wade stared at the ground, willing himself not to puke. He didn't want to have to pull up his mask.

[Sure, Yellow. You always have the best ideas. Rape? Why not. Just add it to the list of relationship transgressions; you've already checked the box next to cheating!]

{You think Peter would still let us get inside his tight little jeans if we dropped by his place tonight?}

"Stop it." Wade choked out, turning to head for the fire escape. He needed to get home before the boxes got out of control.

{Oh, lighten up Wade. I'm just putting words to your desires! You know you want to, so you might as well just give in.}

[You might as well. Let go. Lose control again. Spin out.]

{Come on, it'll be fun!}

[Then you won't have to feel guilty every time the itsy spider whispers sweet nothings in your ear. Because he won't. Ever again.]

{You're gonna fuck it up eventually. Might as well do it the fun way!}

[Then you can leave town. Stark was right; all you do here is cause trouble.]

{It's what you're best at! Might as well embrace it.}

[Might as well let yourself be the monster you know you really are.]

{So come on… Let's head to Peter's, hm? See what he's up to. Get a taste of that luscious, sweet young ass… Tear him up, lick the blood from his abused hole… feel his delicate paper white neck caving in beneath our hands, see those gorgeous big brown eyes streaming with tears while we –}

Wade didn't wait until he got to one of his safe houses. He didn't take the chance. In an alley-way a block and a half away, beside a dumpster, he ate a bullet and blew out his cerebellum and occipital lobe.

When he woke up four minutes later, back of his head matted with blood and bits of bone and brain matter, he made sure to aim through the forehead to get that extra minute, minute and a half of blissful dark nothingness.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Song Credits:

Title:
How To Disappear Completely - Radiohead
Lyrics:
In the Arms of an Angel – Sarah McLachlan
Bye Bye Bye - *NSYNC

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo