Author's note: Had such bad luck around writer's block. Computer died, internet got shut off, a mess of stuff that just... made writing impossible to handle. I wrote this in chunks, but I finally got it to come together.

Chapter summary: Peter seeks Wade out again and everybody gets a surprise.

Chapter 18: Warfare

The kiss had been a stupid idea. It had been a stupid idea because he had wound up doing exactly what he was worried about and spent the whole night thinking about it. Part of it had been a test, to see if he really, actually had those sorts of feelings for Wade. Turns out he did. Thinking about what they'd done made Peter's face, ears, neck, and chest burn with a flush, and his fingers trembled over the letters on his keyboard.

He finished his paper close to midnight, remembered he had leftovers, nuked the hell out of it to make it edible (still tasted good, huh), and then pulled on his costume resolutely. If he spent two hours on patrol tonight, got back in decent enough time, fell asleep instantly, and didn't wake up, he could get as much as three whole hours of sleep before he needed to get up and shower. Just enough to get REM sleep and help him be awake and alert in time for class. Fun stuff, that.

By the time Saturday night rolled around again, Peter was barely scraping by on fumes alone. After getting home from class, he pulled on his Spider-Man suit with as much energy as one could muster on seven hours of sleep over the past few days and multiple all-nighters that week. He was exhausted, he was starving, and he knew there was only one thing he really wanted. He considered the swing over as part of his daily round, and he felt like he was in a soft bubble, underwater, as he knocked on the window he was above. Everything felt slow, felt delayed, and it was like his brain was surrounded by cottonballs, every thought having to really struggle to actually get to him. He also felt the bone-deep ache of having been awake far too long.

Wade opened the window for him, and Peter practically fell onto the carpet. "What the hell happened?" he demanded. Peter appreciated the concern, even if he didn't have the ability to explain the entire list that lead up to him coming here.

"Tired," he mumbled as he tugged off his mask and dropped it onto the floor.

"You look like shit," Wade replied as Peter leaned forward into the Merc's immediately-offered hold.

Peter grunted, agreeing with that. "Feel like it, too," he said, and he melted into the warmth of Wade's body.

The sensation of strong arms around him made him feel like it was all worth it to get here, to practically crawl his way into this embrace. He wanted to sleep with the comfort of someone there, to wake up to the only real good in his life right then. It was funny, really, because if anyone had told him a few months ago that this was where the two of them would end up, he'd have laughed himself sick. There hadn't been even a single hesitation when he'd sought comfort in his mind, which had supplied the name 'Wade', and here he was. The smell of the apartment was what clung to Wade's clothes, and it was what his shoulder had smelled like when they'd gotten close nearly a week before.

The older man helped him over to the couch, and Peter was asleep before he even realized he was fading.

He came to curled up and warm under a blanket on Wade's worn-in couch, something he'd gotten somewhat familiar with when he'd messed himself up with stress and passed out. What struck him immediately was how awake and alert he was. He felt honestly rested for the first time in… more fingers than he had to count on, and he pushed himself up on his elbow. "What time is it?" he asked with a slight slur to his voice, and he rubbed the back of his finger over his eyes, knocking out the hardened gound that gathered there. But Peter didn't see Wade anywhere in his immediate vision. He also smelled something familiar, and the memory of his aunt running around and trying to Pledge all of the surfaces before the guests came for the holidays jumped into his mind. He sat up and glanced around, seeing that the garbage had been taken out of the trashcan, and everything that had spilled out or never made it in in the first place had been cleaned. There were grocery bags sitting around on the floor in a cluster, obviously having just been brought home, and an air-freshener had been plugged into the wall socket.

What in the world...?

Movement was coming from the bathroom, and Peter frowned as he combed his fingers through through his sleep-pressed hair. "Wade?" he called, and he heard a bang, like the poor man had just stood up really quick and brained himself on the sink. Peter winced. "Sorry," he added, and he hoped it hadn't hurt too bad.

Wade's head stuck out of the door, and he had on a hairnet on and rubber gloves. "Shit. We woke you up, didn't we? I knew Yellow was singing too loud, I fucking told you-! And you know what, I don't need your sass right now, young man!" Wade waved his dish sponge around in the air, flinging water and suds onto the floor.

Peter shuffled himself around and got to his feet, and he stepped over to the other man, reaching out to calm his actions down. "I couldn't hear any singing, and no, nothing woke me." Then he peeked around Wade, into the bathroom that smelled like he hadn't diluted bleach anywhere near enough. "What... are you doing?" he questioned, his tone wary.

Wade huffed and glanced over his shoulder, putting the back of his hands against his hips, arms akimbo. "Well, it was gonna be a surprise for you, since you keep coming over - figured if you were gonna make it A Thing to keep showing up, I might as well get my ass in gear and clean, you know?"

Peter blinked a few times before reacting, and he slumped a little to the side, and then looked around at the apartment. From what he could see, even without vacuuming, things really were far different from the first time he'd ever woken up here. He was startled when he turned his head back, about to comment on the gesture, and Wade pressed their mouths together instead, but parted quickly.

"Just for you, Sugar Cube," he said cheerfully, booped Peter's nose with a gloved finger, and then sauntered his way past the still mostly-costumed Spider-Man and over to the kitchen counter against the wall. "You want anything to eat, bee-tee-doubleyuu? I grabbed snacks and shit."

Peter was still stuck on the unprompted kiss, and he rolled his lips inward on reflex to wet them with his tongue. "I, uh, yeah?" he answered dumbly. For some reason, even though he'd been thinking about it, and been missing it, the physical contact and affection from before still felt a little like a dream.

"I got chips and popcorn and a bunch of candy. It's gonna go out of stock soon, because of a certain upcoming holiday. I've been hoarding the good stuff," Wade went on, pulling down a large brown back of assorted chocolates, completely oblivious to Peter's state. "And I like you so much that you can even have some of the Reese's and I won't demand payment."

Peter, who was trying to get his reeling mind back in his skull, rubbed his palm along the side of his neck. "You know I'm broke, so you wouldn't be getting much, anyway."

Wade tossed the bag to him, and because he had left the rubber gloves on, the smell of cleaning product lingered on the plastic for a few seconds. "Payment don't gotta be money!" he chirped and walked past the brunet back into the bathroom. "Also I bleached the toilet so that's all nice and clean. Be proud of me."

Peter's expression faltered and he looked into the bathroom with a frown. "I'll be proud of you when you assure me there wasn't urine anywhere near the bleach," he said, and even though he was overwhelmed by the chemicals in the air, he had to admit that the bathroom no longer looked like something out of a horror movie. The tiles were actually white and the grout between them was no longer brown or black, the mirror was still broken, but a drawing of a happy face was taped up over it, and the blood was gone from the sink and the surrounding spaces.

Wade went quiet. "Uh," he drew out, and glanced down at the toilet. "Before I answer that, could you elaborate?"

Peter's shoulders sagged and he stepped his way back out into the living room. "Ammonia and bleach makes chloramine, Wade."

Wade's face remained mostly unresponsive. He must have heard that word while he was in the army, but it looked like it was lost somewhere in his mind.

Peter groaned and rubbed his hand over his face. No wonder his eyes were burning so badly. "It's a gas they use as a weapon in war."

Wade silently reached over and flushed the toilet.

Peter made his way back to the couch and sat down on one of the cushions (since the other had the bundled blanket on it) as he eyed Wade, who at least looked guilty. "Anything else I might accidentally make that could kill a person while I'm cleaning?"

Peter opened the pumpkin and bat-decorated bag and pulled out a simple Hershey's bar. His mouth was already salivating at the thought. God, he was hungry. "Other than tripping hazards, probably not," he admitted and took a bite of the chocolate. It tasted heavenly. "See, the main reason that bleach is such a problem while, say, kids peeing in a swimming pool isn't, is because of the amount of chlorine used, and it has to be a much more concentrated amount for the mixture. Usually a flushed toilet doesn't have enough for it to really be much of an issue, but if the toilet wasn't emptying correctly, which is a problem with cheap toilets (one reason being they have such thin pipes, which is why they clog often, too), or it wasn't flushed before cleaning it with the undiluted bleach, the ammonia starts to break down over time, and the levels of-"

Wade lifted both of his hands up and turned, showing he had absolutely no idea what was being said. "Dude, your nerd-talk is going over my head, and I'm not gonna lie to you and have you thinking you should just Science at me because you think I understand it."

Peter shut up, and his face tinted red as he ate the rest of his chocolate. Wade seemed to realize that he'd been a little rude and he came over, taking off the rubber gloves and tossing them off to the side and onto the tile floor nearby. "But I appreciate you doing it. Makes me feel like you think I'm a person," he said, and that was an unexpected moment of emotional openness that neither of them was ready to have out so suddenly. "And you saved me from gassing us both to death."

Peter's lip quirked, and though he was still flushed, he shrugged. "It probably wouldn't have been that bad. Just causes nausea and eye irritation when it's such a small amount." Then he made his hands busy by digging around for a second piece of candy to shove in his mouth and stop him from rambling himself into an embarrassed hole. "I just kind of get really into talking about that stuff," he added, his words a little bit mumbled. It was because he knew the information and the how and why of it, and he wanted to impart that knowledge.

A quiet chuckle pulled up out of Wade's throat and he leaned on the arm of the couch. "I'll be sure to remember that talking about piss gets you excited."

Peter's face scrunched up, and he looked disgusted. "You know that is not at all what I just said." Why did it always come back to potty humor somehow?

Wade leaned over and bumped shoulders with Peter to show he'd been joking. Mostly to erase that confession out of the brunet's mind. "So what're you doing for Halloween?" he asked, and he took a handful of candy out of the bag and dumped it on his own lap.

Peter leaned his head back and shrugged. Wade had already asked him this before, and his answer was the same. Nothing exciting. "Patrolling," he said. "The killer clown threats are still pouring in," he sighed.

Wade rolled his eyes. "Patrolling ain't fun, though. You're not gonna at least hit up one party?" he asked with his mouth full.

An eyebrow raise was the response to that. "Are you?" Peter shot back.

Wade stopped chewing for half a second and then shifted in his spot. "You know, it's impressive how few questions people ask about strangers showing up and wandering in their house when they're in a costume." He swallowed. "Really, they should be more savvy to that kind of shit - like, have they never seen a single horror movie?"

Peter set the bag between them. The air-freshener was too strong and he was starting to get a headache, but he didn't have the heart to tell Wade about it. "So you just sneak into people's houses?"

Wade waved a bare hand at Peter and shook his head. "Nah, no sneaking involved. They open the door, I walk in and eat their food, and then hit on the cute guests."

Peter's chest tinged with a strange feeling before it faded. Wade, at least, didn't give him time to figure out what that had been, before he added, "Well, now I got my own cute guest to hit on." When Peter met eyes with him, Wade was grinning like a fool. "And let me tell you, your ass is seriously the best out there. And those legs! Oh, you could wrap those thighs around my face and I would die a happy man."

Peter's face darkened with blood again and he looked back to the candy bag. His hands were shaking slightly, and his chest was tight again, but this time it was different. It wasn't a twinge of disappointment this time.

When he didn't reply, Wade quieted down, and he dropped his arms that had been thrown in the air in what looked like praise towards some deity. "Hey, uh... I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?" he asked, and his voice was very sober compared to what it had been.

Peter opened his mouth to inhale a slow breath, and then he tried to come up with the words to explain this. "It's not..." He trailed off, and he realized that, while he could talk about chemistry all day and night, he couldn't come up with basic words to form a coherent sentence about his feelings on this matter. "It's not that," he said. His fingers twisted the empty wrapper in his lap and he inclined his head slightly to the side. The fact that he'd only napped was starting to come back to him, and he felt a grogginess setting in. He sighed and closed his eyes and shook his head.

Wade did make him uncomfortable, but the discomfort was his natural mental reaction to being complimented. Low self-esteem, bullying, and a hefty guilt-complex did that to a person. But it was more than that. He was happy that Wade found him attractive, and it made him feel special when he had the time to sit around and think on it, and fight back those initial negative thoughts. But that wasn't the core of the issue - not to say that there was an issue, just... this definitely needed to be talked about, and honestly sooner was better than later.

"I don't really..."

Okay, this was beyond frustrating. He was supposedly so smart, and his current vocabulary apparently consisted of around fifteen words total.

"I don't really get it."

He glanced up at Wade, and the other man was frowning, looking away with his gaze fixated on the wall. "You don't get that you're hot?"

Peter pursed his lips. "Well, yes, that, but I meant..." He sighed again. "I don't get sex appeal."

A long silence passed between them, and Wade finally turned back and eyed Peter. He really looked confused.

The brunet shook his head and he set his forehead in his hands. "I don't feel... I don't feel sexually about people. I just never really have." This was humiliating to admit. He found people attractive - but he realized in high school that it was... definitely not the same kind of attraction other people felt. Other boys. Other girls. He had never looked at anyone and thought about wanting to have sex with them. He didn't get it. He knew something was wrong with him, that something about him was broken. He'd hoped he was just a late bloomer, but the urges never set in. Eventually he'd looked it up online, about a year ago, and... he wasn't alone. So that made him feel somewhat relieved.

But it didn't make him feel less broken.

"I'm sorry," he said, and his voice pitched a little with emotion there. He felt like he had somehow lied to Wade about what dating meant for him.

He felt the warmth of Wade's hand and sensed the presence of it, but it never touched him. "Like, you've never wanted to have sex...? Ever?" Wade asked, and he sounded like he honestly wanted to understand.

Peter nodded. There were a lot of technicalities about that, like how he had wondered about it, tried to like the idea, but he just... it wasn't him. He couldn't force it, no matter how much he tried. Touching himself felt amazingly good, and it wasn't something he really shied away from, but it was like it there was a disconnection between the act and actively craving sexual intimacy with another person.

Wade took his hand back and looked a little bit blown away. Surprised. Confused. Sad...? "Wow," was all he said.

Peter awkwardly reached back and set his hand on Wade's after a hesitation. "You can still touch me. I don't dislike it." He actually felt scared now that after everything, this would be what pushed Wade back away. He didn't want that. He didn't want them to break up after only just getting together. But really... if he and Wade wanted different things out of a relationship, couldn't see eye to eye, then logically breaking up wasn't a bad idea. It just strung. A lot.

Wade threaded their fingers together, seemingly consoled by this information. "So does it make you uncomfortable when I make comments about your body?"

Peter didn't immediately respond, but after a few seconds he shook his head. "No. I just don't get it." He hated repeating the same phrase over and over, but he didn't know how else to say it.

Silence spanned out between them, but it was broken by Wade suddenly standing up and stretching, making an effort to groan and sigh as much as possible as his joints cracked. "Welp, this is definitely new. But you're not, like, freaked out by people making advances?"

Peter watched him move. "Not when it's you," he admitted. He felt hope bubble up in his gut.

Wade was thrown off of his attempt to distract from the somber mood, and was left blinking a few times at Peter. Then he smiled, and his blue eyes were really quite beautiful. "So you still wanna date this mouthy idiot?" he asked, and he directed his thumb at himself.

Peter nodded. "As long as you still wanna date this... whatever," he said and motioned down at himself.

"Then I don't see a problem," he said, and Peter actually felt a little like he wanted to cry. His eyes were burning again and he was taken aback by how out of nowhere the prickling tears were. Wade interrupted those thoughts and waved his hand at Peter. "And 'this... whatever' is my fucking cute-ass, smart-ass boyfriend."

Peter got up and stepped over to Wade, setting his hands on the other man's naked chest and leaning up for a kiss. It stayed chaste, if only because he'd never kissed any differently and had no faith in attempting to try now, but that was another worry for another time. He was liking Wade more and more with every meeting, and it had never ceased to surprise him when he thought about it. Maybe it would become normal for him one day. "Says the 'mouthy idiot' who tried to wage chemical warfare on us by cleaning the bathroom." Something like that kinda made a person doubt how trustworthy Wade's opinions were.

Wade snickered. "Hey, idiot was in the title."

Peter set his forehead against the other's neck, enjoying the body heat. He felt comfortable. He felt safe. "Thank you," he said, and his voice was barely above a whisper.

"No problem, Baby Boy."

To be clear: Peter's on the ace spectrum, but he's not sex-repulsed.