Chapter Seven

Two days, four hours after the disintegration

Peter was getting tired of walking.

Sure, 'Pool was nice to talk to, and cuddle with at night, but the fact was that putting one foot in front of the other was monotonous, especially when he was watching the sand to follow the undisturbed footprints. A windless wasteland had its benefits, at times.

Both Spider-Man and Deadpool were elated when they saw the distant figures resting on the horizon.

"Angel, lemme give you a ride! Let's run to them!" The merc had taken to calling Peter that after being stoned, and Spider-Man wasn't complaining.

"Okay!" Peter hopped onto the anti-hero's back, looping his arms over their shoulders. Their strong arms kept his legs from slipping, and the mercenary began sprinting towards the group ahead of them. Deadpool let out a joyous yell as the pair barreled to the group, and they skidded to a stop right in front of Groot.

"I am Groot!" Yelled Groot.

"He says you frightened him. Welcome, Deadpool, Spider-Man. What brings you here?" T'challa asked.

"Fury kicked me out," the merc said, their smirk visible through their mask. "And Spidey was dumb enough to come with me!" They smiled proudly.

"Fury was a real jerk," Peter supplied. "He drew his guns on us, and then told me to leave Wade alone because they kill people."

"The stress must be taking its toll on him," Vision said sympathetically. "But that is no excuse for the actions you described. You were right to leave, Peter." The cyborg looked at the pair levelly. Spider-Man smiled, relieved.

"How are the others?" Wanda said. She looked much better than before, confidently holding Vision's hand.

"Strange is worried, too, but he won't admit it," Peter slid off of Wade's back and stood next to them. "Starlord is getting back on his feet a bit, and Bucky and Mantis are just quiet. There's still so much grief."

"And Maria Hill is a bitch," Wade added unhelpfully.

Wanda snickered, but Vision's mouth was set in a line.

"How are you two feeling?" T'challa asked gently.

Peter responded with "I've been better," at the same time that Wade said "Just dandy, Cat-Boy!"

T'challa grinned, and even Vision had to crack a smile.

"Making love always diffused the tension for my wife and I," Drax said casually. "Have you-"

"No, actually, it's not like that!" Squeaked Peter, who was blushing furiously. He glanced up at Wade, whose grin was huge.

"Well, I don't know about that, Babe-" they teased.

"Wade!" Peter was about to die of embarrassment.

"Maybe some lovemaking would-"

"I don't want to talk to you right now!" Spider-Man's voice was ten octaves too high, and he left quickly to go clear his head. Everyone was laughing, now, except Drax, who apparently didn't understand any basic humor or sarcasm.

He walked away from them all until he couldn't hear their voices, but so that he could still see the figures. Maybe it was time to get these feelings sorted out. His face felt hot, and even though he wasn't thirsty, he wished he had water.

Peter sat in the warm sand and began piling it in a big mound. Or, he thought, he could just keep the confusing feelings bottled up until they burst. That seemed like the more attractive option, at least for now.

Spider-Man punched the sand and made a significant dent. He pulled his mask out of a pocket and put it on for the first time in two days. Maybe he should keep his guard up with Wade, just for a little while. Peter let the sand run through his fingers, trickling onto his lap. Who knows what Wade felt about him? Were they really just friends? Could they be anything more? Did Peter want that? He didn't know.

A few things were holding Spidey back from really liking Wade. They killed people, for one. And although Peter had said earlier that it didn't matter, he knew he was lying. The thought of Deadpool actually shooting someone, or using their katanas was horrifying. And they killed for money. It was an ethical dilemma, really.

The second thing was the scars. It wasn't that Spider-Man minded them, per say, he just hadn't seen them, except for on Wade's chin. The mercenary was incredibly self-conscious about them, and Peter couldn't help but fear the worst. What if the ones on their chin were smoother than the others? What if Wade never wanted to change in front of him, or wear anything but a full body suit?

The third was the fact that Wade was not mentally stable. Hell, the merc had voices in their head. What if they did something because "White" or "Yellow" told them to? What if they killed someone, or killed Peter, or hurt themself? That was a scary thought.

The fourth thing was that Peter had no idea how old they were. Spider-Man was only 18. Legal, he thought snidely, but would that be enough for Wade? Would it be enough for himself?

Peter supposed the last item on his personal list might be solved if he merely asked the merc how old they were.

He sighed.

"Why do you kill people?" Spider-Man asked the cloudless sky. "Why does anyone kill people?" Peter flopped onto the sandy mound he had previously made and closed his eyes. "I think I like you anyway," he said slowly. It felt so good to talk, to get it out of his system. "You're so-"

He heard a crunch of sand under a boot, and his eyes flew open. He turned quickly to see Wanda, his blush rising to his face. Peter was glad, once again, for his mask.

"I didn't mean to snoop," she said, holding her hands up in defense. "I just wanted to check on you, to see if you're okay."

Peter stiffened, but his Spidey-sense wasn't acting up, so he knew Wanda wasn't a threat. "Um... how much did you, um, hear?"

"Enough to know for sure that you like Deadpool," she paused. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell him."

"Them," he murmured.

"Them," she corrected. "Do you want to talk about it?" He very much wanted to talk about it.

"I-um, sure, I guess." Peter tried not to sound too eager.

"Okay," Wanda said calmly. "What's bothering you about it?" She came over closer to Spider-Man and sat on the sand in front of him.

"Well, you know, they're older..." Peter was going to take advantage of this free therapy session, goddamnit.

Wanda laughed. "Age gaps don't bother me. Vision is technically three years old."

"Really?"

"Yep. You're eighteen, right?" When Peter nodded, Wanda continued. "And Wade is, what, thirty-ish?"

"Well, I actually haven't asked..."

She laughed again. "You should work on that."

"I know."

"I'm sure its fine, anyway. What else is on your mind?" Wanda said kindly.

"They have voices in their head, and they kill people for money," Peter blurted out.

"The stone used to talk to Vision all the time, Spider-Man," she said carefully. "It didn't make him any less of a partner."

Peter was quiet for a moment. "But Wade's voices tell them to kill people."

"You're afraid they'll hurt you?"

"No, no," Spider-Man said quickly. "I don't know what I'm afraid of."

Wanda hummed in contemplation. "I think that you don't have much reason to believe that the voices have much of an impact on Deadpool's violent tendencies."

"You're probably right," Peter said softly.

"But it's still scary," Wanda added.

"Yeah."

"It was scary to me because I couldn't help Vision. I couldn't see the enemy. I couldn't fight it for him. Does that make sense?"

It made a lot of sense, Peter thought. He nodded.

"I just had to accept it. The voice was his fight, not mine," Wanda stared at the ground. "I wish I could've helped, but I just couldn't."

"Yeah."

"You've sort of reached the end of my expertise. Vision was never a mercenary," she said, somewhat apologetically. "But if I were you, I would talk to him about it."

"Them," Peter muttered.

"Did I say 'him' again? I'm sorry. Them."

"Thanks for the advice," Spider-Man stood up, and Wanda did the same.

"Any time, kid," she smiled at him, and they both began walking back to join the others.