IMAGES/ART FOR THIS FIC IS ALL ON AO3.
THIS STORY HAS A PLAYLIST: copy/paste link without spaces [ open . spotify playlist / 4L9y3NSNAxZ6ayDhDJrLAv ? si = 2bbfbca1443f446f ]
WARNINGS: Some blood and gore and Deadpool typical stuff.
But can they be mine?
Peter felt anger flare up inside him, making every sore muscle in his body tense, but hot on the heels of his anger were the contradictory emotions of relief and happiness, and it was very, very confusing and frustrating. Because he wanted to be angry, just angry, nothing else! So he told himself that, that he was angry and only angry, as he turned fully, facing the doorway from across the room, just waiting for Wade to say his name, or to come looking for him in the apartment. He didn't yet know exactly what he would say or do, but whatever it was, it wasn't going to be pleasant for the merc! He definitely wasn't about to just be accepting of whatever nonsense excuse Wade had that time! No way, no how...
…
"..." Peter's frustrated, angry frown changed into one of confusion, his fists unclenching slowly, when only silence followed in the long seconds that ticked by. Thinking about the silence, he realized that after that last thump, he hadn't heard any other sounds. But someone, who he just knew had to be Wade, had entered his apartment through his lounge window. Or, or was he wrong? Was it not Wade? But who, or what, else could it be though? Nothing threatening or dangerous obviously, since his spider sense was quiet-
" I never thought I'd...missss, uurghmmmiss you, half s'much as I do. " Peter's frown slowly disappeared, his eyes widening when he heard Wade singing, or trying to, but it was very noticeable that his voice...his voice was slur-, " Annn'a never thought I'd feel this -" a grunt followed, cutting him off, and Peter started frowning again. Was Wade drunk? "...sss'way, way I feel ha'bout chu'hmgh. " his voice was very weak though, faint and slurred an-
In the next second, when Wade broke off into a harsh cough that included a disturbing, bubbly, gurgling sound, Peter felt his stomach sink and then knot up anxiously because Wade didn't sound okay!
Anger momentarily forgotten, Peter quickly crossed the room to his door, his fists clenching again from stress, because Wade sounded like he was in pai-
" S'ssoon as I wake up, ever-eeee night, eree day, " Peter rounded the doorway corner, immediately looking to the window through the relative dark, " Ah'know s'you I need, ta'take the blues s'way..." and he instantly spotted Wade, watching with wide eyes as the man coughed again. And it felt like his own chest spasmed sorely with how Wade's whole body jerked limply with the cough, followed by the same gurgling sound, as if his mouth, his throat, was clogged with blood. The sound made Peter's stomach turn over, heavy with sudden anxious nausea. But the shock of seeing Wade like that left him standing frozen, just staring at where the merc was laying propped low and crookedly up against the wall beneath the open window, body seemingly limp, his legs splayed and his head hanging down.
A shaken breath rushed out of him abruptly, when Wade's physical state started to properly sink in, his body unfreezing enough for him to take slow shock-dazed steps toward Wade while tracking his wide eyes over the older super. He could see that Wade was in his Deadpool suit, which even in the moderate dark looked damaged, filthy and disturbingly shiny and wet in many places. And with his head hanging down, Peter couldn't see his mask's eyes, but his body hadn't moved again since he'd coughed, so Peter wasn't even sure he was still consciou-
He faltered in his steps just short of reaching Wade, breath catching in his chest when he noticed a dark, thick smear of blood, thick enough that it was slowly dripping, staining the window ledge behind Wade's head and shoulders, as well as several bloody smudged handprints on one side of the window frame. Wade's name was on the tip of his tongue when he opened his mouth, but it got stuck in his throat and a strained noise was all he managed. His throat hurt when he made the noise, and he realized he was holding his breath, and then he realized his eyes were burning and his legs and hands were starting to shake. And Peter had seen so many badly injured people in his super-heroing life, but unlike how he'd always rush forward to help a stranger, he once again felt frozen, stiff and stunned and terrified, because he'd never seen Wade injured before, and his heart felt like it was being squeezed in his chest because Wade was so, so still, and there was a lot of blood, and it was like he was de-
" Mus' be luv, luvf..." the merc's weak, slurred continued singing snapped Peter out of his shocked stupor like a searing hot slap across the face, and he suddenly felt a wave of incredulous anger flood his system, because it was not the time for the idiot to be singing!
His body was no longer frozen then, but he was incredibly tense as he rushed to Wade, no more frightened hesitation in his movements when he dropped to his knees on either side of one of Wade's splayed legs...but his left knee slipped when it touched down and he had to reach out to steady himself quickly, one shaky hand grabbing the windowsill beside Wade's hanging head, the other landing on Wade's chest.
Peter's breath caught again when his hand settled with a patting, slick sound on Wade's chest, where the spandex felt rough and damaged and slippery, and he knew immediately it was blood under his palm. It also registered then that he'd kneeled in blood, the copper smelling substance still a bit warm and smearing stickily under his bare knee. His eyes became properly wet then, the intense smell of blood assaulting his senses at the same time as his emotions went haywire, making him blink rapidly, his breathing accelerating. He held himself very still when he glanced down to see the small pool of blood under the leg he was straddling, where the merc's kneecap looked like it'd been shot, the material of his suit's kneepad split open to reveal the mangled sight of flesh and a slow seeping well of dark blood.
Tracking his wide, wet eyes further and further up revealed several more bleeding wounds, and more and more, and Peter unconsciously tightened his grip enough to crack the wooden windowsill when he realized that Wade's sui-...no, not just his suit, Wade himself , was a mess of blood and wounds. So much torn up material and wounded flesh, wounds all still slowly bleeding out!
Despite feeling like he'd just been winded, Peter found his voice, and the first thing he said was,
"Wade?" on a strained, hoarse breath, his entire body starting to shake as he raised his head to look at Wade, and then all at once panic set in, "Oh my, go-oh God, Wade! Wade, w-what the hell! Wade!" he was shouting with a shaking, raised and pitching voice as he balanced on his knees more steadily in order to lift his hands, hovering them over Wade...but he didn't know what to do! He felt totally lost and stressed and miserably worried, panicking over whether to shake Wade, or move him or call an ambulance! He had no idea! And even though the rational part of his brain tried to remind him that Wade wasn't normal and that Wade couldn't die, he could feel himself beginning to freak out in earnest. Because there was a lot of blood and it was all Wade's, and there were too many stressful feelings racking though him for him to not freak out, not when Wade, he was-
Peter jumped when Wade's body twitched once, suddenly, his stomach tensing and twisting from the unexpected shock of it, and then his stomach turned over with a wave of nausea when he saw some blood spray out from the back of Wade's head onto the windowsill. Peter could only breathe through the nausea, the accelerated sound of it too loud in his own ears, but the shock of seeing the blood spray made him act on what his personal feelings were screaming at him to do, that was, to touch Wade. So he moved his trembling hands to gingerly hold Wade's masked face on either side, cradling his head. And his hands met more cooling, thick, sticky blood there as he tipped the merc's head back, needing to see if Wade was conscious,
"Wade?" his tone was soft but somehow too loud at the same time, "A-are you- are you, oh," voice trembling, face twitching with the need to cry as he saw Wade's mask's eyes were closed, "Oh God, you're not-, Wade, plea-!"
"...mus' be luvf, luh..ft..." Peter startled again, a quick jerk and intake of breath, his heart rabbiting when Wade continued to sing. But that time it didn't anger him, it only distressed him even more, having watched blood bubbles form on the surface of the mask around Wade's mouth as he'd spoken.
"Wade, are you awak-"
" Nof-thin' more, nos'thin'liss, " Wade's voice was slurring far worse, but his mask's eyes opened very slightly, revealing the eye slits, and Peter blinked out a few tears then, saying,
"Wade, t-talk to me please, I..." but he cut himself off when he saw that the eye whites were also stained with blood.
Peter's mind reeled for a dizzying moment, his stomach and body shaking with emotion and tension just seeing the state Wade was in. But he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain the man was probably feeling. Was that what it meant for Wade to be unable to die? Did he suffer through the pain of wounds that should render someone unconscious or kill them, just waiting for them to heal!? And was it supposed to take so long to heal? Did Wade always go through this? Was that why he shot himself in the head when he wanted to escape? Was it easier, faster, less painful? How was that a way to live? How hadn't he lost his mind!?
Peter was barely holding back from properly crying by that point, and he had to mentally remind himself a few times over that Wade couldn't die, he could not die, he wasn't going to die .
Slowly shaking his head and feeling sick and miserable and distressed, he rubbed his thumbs along the sides of Wade's masked face, fingers flexing gently into the material,
"Wade, please tell me what I can do, what do I do to hel-" he cut himself off again, watching with an ache in his chest as the bloody mask material stretched around Wade's mouth, like he was smiling, but Peter could tell by the slow scrunch of his brow that he was in pai-,
" Love'ss the beessst. " more blood bubbles formed, and Peter choked on a sob as he squeezed his wet eyes shut, gritting his teeth against his own pained and angry emotions. Wade sounded so faint, like he was fading, and his head felt heavy, as if it'd just loll limply the moment he let go, and Peter didn't-
Peter snapped his eyes open when he felt something shift, a movement. Wade moved! He gasped in an uneven breath at feeling something brush his knee, and his gaze dropped to watch as Wade's right gloved hand slowly rose to be level with his face. Peter held his breath next, his eyes crossing, when Wade extended his index finger weakly to touch the tip of his nose. And despite the blood he could feel under the light touch, Peter was about to smile, but then he heard the sound of a gross squelch, right before Wade's hand fell awa-
No...no! It fell off! Wade's hand didn't fall away, it fell OFF!
Peter felt his face go cold as he paled and made a sound of genuine alarm, followed by a breathy muttered stream of ohmygod's when he quickly let go of Wade's head to lean back, away from the bleeding stump of the man's wrist, which was still held up, right there below his nose, oozing blood and with stringy, fleshy parts just sticking out and dangling! It was exposed muscle, tendons, veins, skin and the sharp broken edges of the bone, all clearly visible. Peter was very close to hyperventilating right then, stomach roiling, heart hammering, and when Wade's forearm lowered weakly, Peter numbly followed it with his eyes until it settled, limp against his midsection. He was frozen again then, staring shocked down at the stump bloodying up his T-shirt, but he was also hyperaware that the hand had hit the top of his thigh when it fell, leaving smeared blood there too, before it thudded to the floor softly. And he could still feel it touching him where it had landed beside his knee...but...wait, no.
No.
It? The hand? It wasn't just some random hand! It was Wade's hand, Wade's hand that had touched him several times before, intimately, warm and rough and wonderful, now laying severed and separate from the merc's body. Peter zoned out for a moment, his focus tunneling in on the bloody wrist stump...
...but between one wide eyed, twitchy blink and another, he started to frown, because he noticed that the flesh inside was moving very, very slowly.
Sound filtered back in then; the thump of his heart in his chest, blood rushing in his veins, too loud in his ears along with his breathing. But Peter felt his wavering shock start to recede, some relief trickling in at realizing that Wade's wrist stump was trying to heal, his mutation was working!
It was slow, but it was working!
"Hea-you're healing, Wade, you're- but," he glanced down at the fallen hand laying upturned on the floor, "wh-why-, is it supposed to be so sl-" he looked at Wade's face then, and immediately blinked out a few tears, his face scrunching into a sad self-angry frown when he saw that after he'd let go, Wade's head had dropped forward again.
Clenching his jaw, Peter took in a deep breath through his nose before reaching his hands out to cradle and gently lift Wade's head again, ignoring the blood smearing under his hands and mentally scolding himself for being so scared and skittish, like he was some kind of novice when dealing with gore.
Purposely taking deeper, more steadying breaths, he firmly told himself to get his shit together! Sure, it was not a normal situation and Wade was hurt really bad, but Wade was not going to die! He was still alive, but he was in pain, and Peter needed to handle it. He had to do something. He had to help somehow! So, feeling only marginally less panicked and still very stressed, Peter continued to breathe shakily, but in a steady rhythm, as he looked over Wade's various wounds again. He had a lot of wounds, and from what Peter could tell, it was mostly from being shot at, and through violent wear and tear to his suit and body. The worst ones he could easily make out, the ones that were bleeding a whole lot, consisted of the merc's shattered knee, a large hole-like wound in his left side and another to the side of his chest, his severed hand, and two large gashes, one on the right side of his neck and the other on the same side, but on his head, above his ear. If he had any broken bones, Peter couldn't immediately tell, but for the moment he needed to do something about the ble-
" How can'ih be tha'we can, " Peter startled again, eyes snapping to Wade's face when the man started up with more slurred singing, " ssssayssso mush withow' wurs? " his jaw and cheeks shifting under Peter's shaking hands. Peter swallowed another sob at the broken sound of Wade's voice, and at seeing more bloody bubbles, and he took in a deep sniffing breath through his nose before saying,
"Wade, stop, okay, please? Jus-" exhaled the same breath, shuddering as it left him, "if you can talk, just tell me how I can help you." because he didn't understand why the man was still singing, but not talking!
His voice sounded wrecked and he seemed totally out of it but he was singing?! Like a faulty record! Peter felt his emotions welling up again when Wade still didn't answer, showed no response, no understanding, causing Peter's pseudo-calm to shatter, his chest and throat tightening quickly all over again. He just had no idea why Wade wasn't responding to him but kept singing. Was his brain dama-
His mental fretting was cut off when Wade moved again, lifting his bleeding arm away from Peter's midsection, raising it, then slowly bending it more at the elbow, before making a weak gesture with the bloody stump just above his own slouched shoulder. Or was it meant to be toward his neck? Peter frowned, confused and unsure of what Wade was doing...was, was he trying to show him something?
Emotions still teeming, Peter swallowed sorely and tried to focus on what Wade was doing, watching as the merc struggled to keep his stump there, above his shoulder, weakly moving it again. Peter tried to consider what he'd be doing if his hand was still attached. Maybe he'd be pointing to something? Or, or maybe trying to touch or grab at something?
"Whah? What is it? Wade..." Peter breathed out as he moved a little closer on his knees, before leaning the weight of Wade's head more into his right hand, and using his other to feel over the side of Wade's neck with careful, trembling fingers. He encountered more blood, and what felt like grit and damage to the material of the suit, but he kept feeling over the top, then front and finally the back of Wade's shoulder, nudging his bleeding forearm aside gently as he went. In the end, Wade's arm slowly lowered and Peter felt nothing that gave him any clue to helping Wade.
Peter cursed softly in frustration, sniffing before huffing out a tense breath as he clenched his hand into a fist where it was still settled on Wade's shoulder, his other hand still cradling Wade's face as he shook his head miserably,
"Wade, I don't know what yo-"
" Bless'oo en'...bless'me. " seriously?
"Wade." Peter said his name emphatically, voice cracking a bit, stomach clenching,
" Bless'a birs', en'tha beess. "
A few full tears slipped from his eyes then, as a feeling of defeat settled over him. Peter was so sick of that feeling, of defeat where Wade was concerned, and he was also so sick of crying, but he couldn't help it, he just felt so useless . He and Wade had never talked about his healing factor in any detail, and so Peter was left feeling confused and at a loss.
But instead of freaking out any more, he just gave in again to what his personal feelings were urging him to do. He moved closer on his knees first, then sat back on his legs before he gently shifted his hands to pull Wade forward, so he could hold him, thinking resignedly that maybe he should just stay with Wade through it, just stay with him until he healed. Because he wasn't going to die, he was...
Peter blinked rapidly when, having cradled the merc's head against his shoulder, he could then plainly see that there was a knife handle sticking out the back of Wade's head! Which meant the blade, the entire friggen' blade, was jammed into Wade's brain!
"Oh, oh shit, oh my God," his stomach turned over again, shock and stress and panic, "th-that was what, was that what you- you were..." he muttered absently, eyes wide again as he glanced from the knife handle to the blood spray on the window ledge, "Oh God, I'm so dumb." he whispered to himself, making a frustrated face and feeling like an idiot for forgetting Wade had a wound on the back of his head. He'd seen the blood spray from there himself!
There was no time to get mad at himself about it though, not when he realized that Wade probably wanted him to take the knife out, which...wow, ugh, Peter felt super nauseous again. He never wanted to pull a knife out of anyone, let alone someone he loved, but he was also determined to help Wade in any way he could. So, still breathing heavily, still shaking, he said,
"Oh-okay, okay, I can do this." telling himself the same thing mentally, "I'm gonna' t-take it out, Wade, okay? Just hang in there..."
Wade's response, or perhaps just the fault in his brain, was more singing, now muffled into his shoulder,
" Huv' got'oo be ner yooh, ef'ree nigh', ef'ree day, " and Peter just swallowed down his nausea and ignored his tears as he steeled himself to do it. Pushing up to balance on his knees again and holding the back of Wade's head gently with his right hand, he wrapped his other hand around the handle of the knife, breathing in and then breathing out,
"Okay, ready..."
" Ah coont' be'hapeh," he gave one firm, easy tug, "any otha' wa -" and Wade's singing cut off abruptly into silence.
And God, the sound . A sickening sticky, squelching, cracking sound. And then the squirting gush of blood that rushed out, wetting his hand before he'd pulled away, and staining the wall and window ledge even more, and then seeing how long and sharp the blade was...
Peter opened his trembling hand to the side so the knife fell to the floor; he hadn't wanted to hold it for a second longer. And then he just kept breathing, and breathing, trying to calm down, trying to settle his stomach, still holding Wade's head to his shoulder as he carefully wound his other arm around Wade's broad back. But through his brief peak of nauseous panic, it took a few seconds for Peter to notice something was different, something was off...and with renewed cold dread filling him, he realized it was that Wade's head on his shoulder felt limp, like, as in, dead weight.
Dead weight.
Suddenly everything seemed really, really quiet, too quiet, even more so than it previously had, even in between Wade's pained singing from before it hadn't been so unnervingly quiet. But Wade wasn't singing anymore...he, he wasn't...
Peter focused then, straining to listen carefully, because before, he'd been able to hear very quiet, shallow breathing from Wade, but just as he'd worried, as he listened specifically for it, there was nothing . He couldn't hear anything anymore.
"W-wa-Wade?" he whispered, eyes widening, more tears gathering as he looked down at the bloody, bloody windowsill, absently squeezing Wade a little tighter to him, his heart hurting for how hard it was thumping in his chest. Peter had already been shaking, on top of feeling lightheaded and woozy and not doing well after weeks of feeling so low, and then seeing Wade in such a state, but unbelievably, it had just gotten worse, so much worse, because it seemed like Wade was dead ...
...was that poss-...was Wade dead!? But Wade couldn't die!
"Wade, Wade, pl-please, please s'not funny, Wade...I- can, can you, you can keep singing, okay...Wade, pleassse..." his voice was pitching, watery, and he was feeling terrified all over again. And he wanted to keep clutching Wade to him, but he knew that wouldn't help him. So after a few long seconds, he forced himself to pull back, moving his sticky hands to take a hold of Wade's head, in order to lift it off his shoulder. But he'd only just about gotten a grip with his trembling hands when Wade jerked suddenly with a gasp, jolting backward into the wall behind him harshly, and at the same time completely scaring the hell out of Peter, who's heart leapt up into his throat from the shock, face paling and head spinning as well as he froze with his hands still held up, wet eyes wide.
Peter remained stunned, watching as Wade sat leaning back against the wall for a moment, breathing loudly and heavily, his mask's white eyes open but eerily unanimated as his head listed to the right side. Then, abruptly and violently, Wade shook his head side to side, much like a dog would do, sending some blood flecks spraying around.
Peter felt some hit his face, but he barely blinked.
Wade however, seemed to finally focus, his mask eyes no longer unanimated, settling on Peter's face with surprising directness considering there were no pupils. They locked gazes that way and held it for a few long seconds, before Wade's mask's eyes widened, brow scrunching as he blurted,
"Pe-Peter, Peehter, fuck, I'm ssso sor-, so fuhkin sorreh." and his speech was still slurred, still forming blood bubbles on the mask, his voice was still a pained rasp and there was still blood everywhere, and there were still so many holes in Wade's body and his hand was still lying off to the side and Peter knew more tears were trailing down his face and he just couldn't help flinching when Wade raised his stump, as if he'd intended to touch his face.
His flinch made Wade flinch, and only then did the merc seem to notice he was missing a hand, his mask going eerily blank again while Peter started to breathe more heavily, finding his voice to ask,
"D-did you jus-just, die?" his entire body, and his voice, still shaking.
Wade looked at him again, white eyes still wide, and then he looked away, head shifting as if he were glancing around for something; presumably his severed hand. Peter just watched in silent shock as Wade ignored his question, then eventually spotted his hand, and then he tried to move his other arm to reach for it, only to realize he couldn't because his arm didn't respond. It was still limp, probably bro-
Peter flinched again when Wade forced his arm to move, jerking it once harshly at his shoulder, and then again, and again, each time the sound of his bone snapping back into place followed, very loud in the quiet room. And when Wade, breathing tensely, finally spoke, finally responded, he said,
"Just gimme' a sec to pull myself togehther here, Pete." in the same raspy, pained voice, but less slurred, and with a forced chuckle tacked on to it...
...like there was something to laugh about, something to make jokes about, like absolutely anything about the present situation was funny .
Peter's temper made an abrupt ascent then, static noise whooshing through his ears briefly as every other emotion he'd been feeling was smothered by the heat of his anger as it soared , making him yell,
"ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW!?" and it was Wade's turn to be startled, the merc jerking back in surprise, hitting the wall again, freezing with his right hand held in his left, eyes wide. And Peter was just so furious and freaked out and confused and his chest hurt so much that he kept yelling, "DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST DIE ON MY GOD DAMNED SHOULDER AND NOW YOU'RE JOKING ABOUT IT!?" voice pitching and cracking a bit with the force of it. He never did have the voice for shouting, but Wade had pushed him to his limit.
Wade's masked face scrunched up slowly as he lowered his hands and arm, and there was some tension in his jaw as his gaze dropped to look at his severed hand. He sounded genuinely contrite when he said,
"Sorry, Peter, I'm so used to it," but Peter didn't care how sorry he sounded or how sorry he was, he was pissed , "I just-"
"You're used to it?!" he yelled some more, and it wasn't as loud as before, but his tone was angry enough that Wade instantly went quiet. Peter's other emotions started to bleed back in then though, because hearing Wade say he was used to it was so horrible! He'd just witnessed the man he'd fallen in love with, die , and then Wade was joking about it because he was used to dying ! What the actual hell! " I'm not used to it, Wade!" he continued shouting, eyes dead set on the whites of Wade's, "I don't want to see that, I don't ever, ever want to get used to seeing you die!" he leaned in closer to Wade, balancing on his knees as he got right in Wade's face, "I don't ever want you to die !"
Despite being a large guy, Wade managed to shrink into himself, saying,
"I didn't kill myself. I swear." in a small voice, mask frowning sadly. But that didn't make a damned difference, because Peter was not blind or stupid ,
"Oh, so what? You just let other people injure you so you could die! You think doing some kamikaze shit is any better than killing yourself!?" he kept yelling, feeling very tightly wound up. Right then he wanted to punch Wade in the face just as much as he wanted to hold Wade and make sure everything was okay. But it really was not okay, it was super, super fucked u-
"It's a loophole, I-"
"WADE!" Peter's voice reached a new key of fury, and at the same time his physical tension made him lash out, hitting the brick wall beside the window with his fist and effectively breaking and cracking into it, causing a lot of paint, sandy bits and chunks of brick to fall to the floor.
Wade was very still, mask eyes wide and brow still scrunched up as he went totally silent, and Peter did too, clenching his jaw shut and swallowing audibly. Following that, the only sound filling the space around them was their out of sync, loud and deep breathing...
Until Peter blinked, and then he blinked again, a sob leaving his throat as earnest tears began to fall, and just like that, his anger was being doused by the wave of hurt that rushed through him. Despite the blood drying on his shaking hands, he brought them up to hold his forehead and cover his eyes, sitting back on his legs and hunching his shoulders as his whole body started shaking with quiet sobs.
He felt like all he'd done for weeks was be an emotional wreck over Wade and his bullshit. But then, he knew he'd always been the type to be stupid about romantically liking someone. And it seemed as he got older and fell for a person more intently and with more self-awareness, his ridiculous dedication to whoever he fell for only intensified. In the present case, it was Wade, and Peter was so angry at Wade for doing this to him, and he was so angry at himself for doing it to himsel-,
"I'm sorry, Pete." Wade's voice interrupted his thoughts, soft and sincere and no longer slurring at all. But Peter was still too angry, so it wasn't soothing at all and he didn't want to hear it. Feeling Wade's bloody gloved fingers lightly touch his hand just upset him more and he pushed Wade's hand away immediately, saying,
"Don't touch me, Wade." as firmly as he could with his voice so shaky, dropping his other hand away from his face as well to glare at the merc with watery eyes. And he saw how hurt Wade looked at his words, hurt and scared, but Peter couldn't focus on that right then. He needed to focus on the present problem, on what had happened, and what was happening, and on what needed to be done about Wade's physical state and all the blood leaving his body. He needed to know,
"Why aren't you healing?" and he'd meant to ask it clinically, but it sounded like a desperate demand even to his own ears, his eyes dropping the glare to look over each of Wade's slowly bleeding wounds that he could see.
Looking down though, his wet eyes widened in amazement when he noticed that Wade was holding his previously severed hand pressed against the bloody stump of his wrist...and it was just the start, but Peter could actually see that a few fine strings of muscle and flesh had begun to grown across the severed line, growing to reattach the limb. That was really someth-
"M'healin'," Wade mumbled, confirming what Peter was seeing, then he added, "it's just much slower than usual." in quiet tone of voice, as if he were treading carefully, not wanting to trigger Peter into yelling at him again. Good.
Peter still felt his anger bubbling below the surface, but he didn't want to yell again.
"Why?" he asked, sniffing, and that time actually managing to sound demanding, "Is something wrong with your mutation?" asking it aloud made him stress about it, "What's wrong, what happened?" his voice more desperate that time.
Wade was staring at him with masked eyes, but somehow Peter could tell the look in them was guilty,
"Nothing's wrong, or I mean, it's...uh-"
"It's what?" Peter managed to land the demanding tone again and Wade's shoulders hiked up a bit as he sputtered to answer in a hurry,
"I-it's slowerbecauseI'vebeengettingfuckeduptoomuch." Peter felt his stomach turn, stress and anger rising again, and whatever look was on his face made Wade look worried as he explained, "I've just been, I've been getting injured a lot, but I haven't been, been eating or sleeping much, so my healing..." he paused when Peter huffed out an angry sigh, wiping roughly at his face when more tears left his eyes, "I'm sorry, Baby Boy, I haven't been able to properly heal between-"
"Shut up. Don't Baby Boy me." he snapped weakly, "Just shut up, I get it." Peter couldn't stand to hear about how Wade had been abusing and neglecting himself for almost three damned weeks.
He'd already been dealing with his own emotional shit in the last three weeks. Wade showing up all messed up wasn't fair! It was selfish and it made it so difficult to be angry at him when Peter was so worrie-
"Okay, I'll shut up, but I really am sorry, Peter, I shouldn't have come here," and wow, did hearing that piss Peter off all over again, "I shouldn't have come until I was heal-"
"Why did you come here at all!?" he snapped angrily and Wade's eyes went wide, his masked expression becoming plainly wounded, but Peter was hurting too! Wade's choice of words had pressed all the wrong buttons. How dare he say that after being gone for days and days and now Peter was so angry, he was about to say things he knew he'd regret later, but right then he felt justified yelling, "You ditched me, Wade! You fucked me and ditched me!" and Wade physically flinched, "Why did you ev-even come here!?" he asked again, voice more of a sob as he roughly wiped at his face again, before pushing himself to stand up, backstepping away from Wade, breathing shakily, sniffing, hurting.
His mind was racing, emotions overlapping one another, but despite that, he was still aware of how he'd smeared Wade's blood on his face, Wade's blood that was still bleeding out of the man, and it had him trying to think of how to deal with Wade's wounds. Taking a few deep breaths, Peter thought about what Wade had said about needing to eat and sleep, he'd said he hadn't been doing that, so his healing was slow, so he'd need some food and sleep, or otherwise his pain would be prolonged. Peter's mind went to his painkiller stash next, he'd intended to take them for his own pain, but he was barely feeling his aches right then, too preoccupied with what was happening, so if Wade needed them all he'd-
"I couldn't stay away any longer!" Wade breathed out, whisper shouting, and Peter stopped the step-step pacing he'd been doing to turn and look at Wade, because dammit, it sounded like he was going to cry, which had Peter swallowing down another sob, "I've been trying ." Wade went on, voice emotional and soft, just audible, "I've been trying to leave you alone." and his words were cutting Peter deep enough that the next sob couldn't be swallowed, "I wanted to stay away so you'd be angry and hate me and move on with your life." somehow, hearing that reason didn't hurt any less, "I left the country, didn't take anything but a couple of weapons. I didn't take my phone." Wade made a sound close to a sniff, voice muffled by emotion but also by his bloody mask, "And I tried to stay off the grid, stayed in dead zones, just so I wouldn't be tempted to call you, even though I've memorized your number by now."
Peter's stomach ached and he crouched down, putting his head in his hands as Wade went on,
"M-my fucked-up brain memorized your number without my permission after I lost it that first time." Wade's voice was starting to sound shaky, "And all I wanted to do was call you, or come and see you, that's all I wanted, but I told myself I had to stay away, far away, so I wouldn't give in. But I wanted to hear your voice, talk to you, I wanted to come back and see your face, I wanted to see you so, so, so fucking bad." a pause in which both of them breathed and sniffed and hurt quietly, and then Wade sounded angry when he continued, "It didn't matter how many times I let someone kill me or how many of them I killed, no matter how much I drank or drugged myself up, no matter what I did, n-nothing, nothing changed. My thoughts always came back to you and it was making me crazy- crazier." he paused, cursed under his breath and it sounded like he shoved himself back against the wall, so Peter looked up to glare at him, but Wade had his head leaning back on the window ledge as he rolled it slowly side to side, "I can't sleep, I keep thinking about you, about how I feel about you, about how I left and I wanted to go back to the night before I, fuck," he barely took a breath, "beforeIleftherelikeIdid. I'm such a fuck up." his voice was definitely shaking now, "I want to go back but I can't, I can't take back my fuck ups, I can't take back anything I ever fuck up but I still fuck up, it's...fuck, I..." he sobbed then too, and then again, head dropping forward to hang down as he sagged lower against the wall.
He didn't say anything more then, and Peter remained crouching there, staring at him, tears still slipping out of his eyes. He swallowed another sob as he watched Wade's shoulders shake, looked at how he hung his head so miserably, body more injured than most people could even hope to withstand the pain of, and yet he didn't make much of a sound, not of crying or being in pain. Wade really was just so used to hurting...
After a few long seconds of silence, during which Peter had been considering everything Wade had said, he finally moved, standing up as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He also took in a shaken centering breath, before lowering his hands and refocusing on what needed to be dealt with right then, that was, Wade was still bleeding and healing too slowly. Sniffing as he absently glanced at the blood smeared over his hands and forearms, Peter made a decision on an immediate course of action, saying,
"Come on, let's go to the bathroom." as he approached Wade again, only just taking a few steps to get to the merc. To his own ears his voice sounded more detached and cold than he actually felt, but that was because aside from still feeling hurt and angry and his emotions being all up and down, he was also just so exhausted, but Wade reacted like he was being scolded,
"Oh, shit, shit, yeah, sorry, bab-uh, Peter, I'm getting blood all over your floor, and wall, and, fuck..."
Peter didn't have the energy to feel bad about Wade's chided tone of voice, simply ignoring him as he stepped over where Wade was shifting his less injured leg, the merc trying to use his one 'good' leg and arm to get up. But Peter had stopped beside him on the left and while avoiding stepping in the blood on the floor as much as possible, he leaned over and took a hold of Wade's left upper arm,
"Hey, nah, you don't have to, do, uh..." but Peter was already easily pulling him to stand up, able to lift Wade to standing like he weighed nothing, because to Peter, he basically did. Wade fell quiet then, as Peter hooked the merc's left arm around his neck and held him with an arm of his own around his waist to steady him.
It was a matter involving a lot of dripping and smearing blood, but there was no helping that.
Peter used enough super-strength so that Wade had no choice but to move with him, the merc resignedly walking with Peter toward the bedroom, while holding up the arm with his slowly reattaching hand, so it stayed more or less in place and didn't fall off again. Peter was so wrung out by that point, his stomach only did a small nauseous flip at seeing it. He chose to focus more on walking the bloody mess that Wade was into his bedroom and to the bathroom, but he also noticed that he was starting to feel his own aches and pains again, just when Wade started talking,
"I'll hire some cleaners, they'll get all the blood stains out. I know some people who don't ask questions about large bloodstains of dubious origin." Peter continued to ignore him as they walked into the bathroom where the light was still on, but he didn't even dare to glance at the mirror and see himself smeared with blo- "Or I can just buy you a whole new apartment bab- uh, Peter." Peter swallowed sorely, noticing for the second time that Wade was choosing to use to his name instead of his usual terms of endearment. But he knew it was his own fault, so he just kept quiet, sliding the shower door open once they stopped there. He let go of Wade then, just enough that he could still semi-support the man when he got into the shower. "Wait, I still got shoes on-"
"Just get in, Wade." Peter said in a tense, unhappy voice, because that was how he felt and he didn't know how to make it stop.
He really wanted it to stop.
Wade didn't argue, responding obediently to Peter, either because he didn't want to piss him off anymore, or maybe because he knew a lot of blood was still dripping off him and he didn't want to make more of a mess. Or maybe both. Whatever the case, Wade stepped into the shower as instructed, and Peter noticed that despite his kneecap still not being healed, Wade didn't even really limp too badly, even putting some weight on his injured leg to step in and turn around in the shower stall.
'He really must be so used to it-' Peter's sad thought was cut off when Wade stiffly stepped out of his reach, saying,
"Woah, woah, woah, w-what are you doing?" sounding guilty and uncomfortable. Peter, having been distracted by his thoughts of Wade's injuries, had just crouched down outside the shower step to help him get his shoes off, but when he looked up at Wade, the merc tensed up in a different way.
Peter noticed how wide Wade's eyes were, and how Wade was looking at him with an expression on his mask that was between shock and anger. Specifically at his face...oh, oh, wait, yeah. He was probably only just seeing the bruises and cuts on Peter's face in the bright bathroom lig-
"Peter, what happened?" yeah, that was it, but something about how Wade sounded angry, guilty and strained all at once, just triggered Peter's volatile anger all over again, anger at Wade and at himself, so he answered stiffly and curtly,
"Local superhero shit, nothing a traveling merc like yourself needs to worry about." and he sounded mean, and because he was angry, he only felt a little bad about it. His tone and his words visibly shut Wade down though, Wade's entire demeanor crumbling immediately. He just lowered his head, making a fist with his intact hand but otherwise keeping quiet, and Peter just swallowed sorely again and said, "Sit down, Wade."
He listened that time without hesitation or question, moving to lean his back against the wall opposite the door before sliding down until he was sitting, leaving blood all along the tiles like something out of a horror movie. Peter ignored the blood, noticing instead that Wade showed only the barest grimace of pain or discomfort through is mask. He wondered if Wade was hiding his pain for his sake, but then he stopped wondering about it when Wade started to bend forward, trying to get around his injuries in order to reach his boots with his one working hand. Peter had thought that was what Wade's original question of 'what are you doing' had been about, so he wasn't surprised, and he just gave Wade a look as he reached forward and pulled both of Wade's large dirty booted feet toward him to the step ledge of the shower stall. Wade froze, and Peter held the look for the few seconds it took until Wade slumped back against the wall, his tense posture showing he was not comfortable. Peter didn't really think Wade had a right to get mad about him trying to help though, so he just went ahead and pulled off Wade's dirty boots and dropped them aside, further ignoring Wade's unhappy, quiet sounds of protests. He didn't even look at Wade before he peeled off the merc's blood-stained white socks too.
And Peter wasn't surprised to find Wade's feet smelled pretty bad, since he'd noticed before that Wade himself didn't smell good. Earlier, when he'd gotten close enough to the merc, it had been impossible not to notice the smell of B.O under all the blood. But he could easily guess that Wade had been in the suit days longer than was hygienically viable. He also wasn't surprised that Wade's feet were bloody, since gravity only worked one way after all, but he was a bit surprised, and did clench his jaw, at seeing a partially healed, still bleeding gash in Wade's foot, as if he'd been stabbed through his foot with something. How that even happened, he had no ide-
Wade drew his feet away abruptly, and awkwardly, and not very far; it was a small space after all. And all ten of his scarred, bloody toes were curled in, in a very childish way, and it must have hurt to bend and tense his injured legs and body that way, but Peter already knew he had crazy levels of self-consciousness and self-esteem issues, so he didn't insist any further.
Instead, he looked down at his hands, open and palms up, seeing under the bright light just how grossly bloody and dirty they were. Of course, so were his forearms and upper arms, his shirt and shorts and thighs and knees, basically everywhere he'd come into contact with Wade and Wade's bloody mess. It was definitely on his face too, where he'd touched himself earlier, he could feel the dried blood whenever he moved the muscles of his face. It was probably even in his hair. God, he probably looked horrendous. But he felt it too, so he just accepted it for what it was, sniffing again as he stood up and stepped into the shower cubicle. Peter took a second to look over Wade, but he couldn't see any visible weapons on the merc that would need to be removed, and guessing he'd probably lost them all along the way somehow, he instructed Wade to,
"Sit against that wall." gesturing to the wall opposite the showerhead and faucets, and again Wade listened, shifting to sit with his back against the adjacent wall while Peter shut the shower door. And Peter could feel Wade watching him as he stepped over the merc's leg to stand under the showerhead, where he opened the faucets.
The water hit him first, cold and making his cuts and bruises sting and ache, but that was fine, he was used to it, and anyway, he didn't want Wade to feel cold water on top of whatever pain he was in. So, standing between Wade's bent up legs in the small cubicle, he waited for the water temperature to settle nicely. Once it was ready, he raised his hands and gave them a rough, cursory rub and rinse down, before turning and crouching down again, so that the pleasantly hot water was falling on Wade, mostly on his chest and lower half.
Wade didn't seem to care about the water though, he just sat there as the water swirling and running around them became tainted with all the blood rinsing into it, the merc slouched and breathing deeply, but otherwise sitting unmoving against the wall. His mask was flat again, unanimated, that was, until Peter shifted onto his knees for balance, intending to remove Wade's mask when he reached toward Wade's neck. But he'd barely even touched the material with his fingertips when he felt Wade tense up and jerk slightly, and out of his periphery, he noticed the fingers of Wade's intact hand twitching, like he wanted to stop him...
And yeah, wow, okay, that hurt. Like, fresh hurt. Like a new stab to Peter's shaky, tense stomach.
Peter huffed out a tense, shaken breath, staring at Wade's mask's eyes as he clenched his jaw and fought a new wave of emotions that were already making his eyes water. Swallowing audibly after a few more tense breaths, he forced himself to let it go, sitting back on his legs, swallowing again, fighting the urge to cry. He had thought they were at lea-
Wade moved suddenly, making Peter blink and frown, but he didn't look up...he didn't need to in order to tell that Wade had raised his working hand, had reached up. And Peter still didn't look, he just listened as the merc roughly pulled the mask off himself, proceeding to throw it to the side, so it hit the tiles behind Peter with a slap and flop. The atmosphere between them was tense and emotional all over again after that, neither of them looking at one another as Peter kneeled there, wet and dripping, feeling miserable, pathetic and sad, fighting tears. Wade had just slumped against the wall again, his breathing more strained and stressed, good hand clenched in a tight fist, hanging between his legs. All the while more and more blood drained away, all of Wade's. So much of Wade's.
The sound of Wade's breathing and water pelting the merc's spandex suit was all the noise filling the space around and between them for a while. And Peter had just about gotten his urge to cry under control when Wade said,
"You've got a problem now."
"..." say what? What the fu- Peter's frown deepened and he clenched his teeth, his anger, very much not controllable for him right then, reared up again, and really not feeling in the mood for Wade's joking, he raised his eyes to glare directly into Wade's blood-stained face and asked,
"I've got a problem?" his voice nothing even close to nice or joking.
Of course, he was seeing Wade's full face for only the second time ever, so he let himself look , noting the details of Wade's facial features up close in the bright lighting; his hairless brow, expressive brown eyes, sharp nose, his cheek bones, the attractive shape and fill of his lips, his strong jawline...and the aftermath of violent damage decorating it all. From the last point, Peter also noticed that there were tear streaks through the blood dried, and drying, over Wade's chee-
"Yeah. You do." he confirmed almost conversationally, and Peter clenched his fists, but while being a bloody mess, looking guilty and sorry, Wade added quite seriously, "Even though I know you're done with me," making Peter's heart squeeze with hurt, his eyes narrowing with anger, "I'm your problem now, you're stuck with me."
"..." wait, what?
"I tried to walk away from you, Peter, but I can't ." Wade said emphatically, his unmasked face showing far more of his tortured emotions; how he clenched his blood lined teeth, frowned in misery, blinked his wet eyes. Peter just stared, thrown off by the man's words, watching as Wade bumped his head back against the tiles, gaze flitting to the side briefly before he made eye contact again, "I'm all kinds of fucked up for you, Peter, so fucked up for you, so fucked up I can't even, I...I didn't even know, it's, I... fuck ," he shook his head lightly, "I just can't give you up, it's not possible. I don't want you out of my life, I don't want to never see you smile again, or never hear when you- or forget how you smell...or, fuck." he seemed to be struggling to describe whatever he was feeling.
But Peter stayed quiet, letting him word vomit whatever he needed to, he wanted to hear it al-,
"I, I've been the dumbest fuck of all fucks for even trying to leave you. I don't even know why or how I thought I could. I've never been a good guy, I'm not the kind of person who does the right thing for the right reasons and pulls it off. Fuck, even when I do the wrong things for the right reasons, or the right things for the wrong reasons, when I do anything for any fucking reason, it's still bad." Peter had no idea what his point wa- "And what I did to you, Pete, shit, leaving like I did, leaving when I did, that was so bad, so shitty . No wrong or right reason justifies the shit I pulled." he paused and Peter, having heard the point, blinked some fresh wetness off his lashes, watching as Wade brought his wet left hand up to wipe, and smear, water and blood down his face, then he sniffed deeply, and it sounded gross and wet and was probably bloody. But none of that fazed Peter, whose frown was starting to ease, and his heart continued to feel squeezed, but with a different mixture of emotions. Still observing Wade's face, he watched the man's adam apple bob when he swallowed, watched his expressions shift as he worked out whatever else he wanted to say, and after a short while, in a sad but lighter tone of voice, Wade said, "And I know I won't look as good as your girlfriend in a sexy dress and a pair of heels, but I'd still wear them for you, whichever ones you like. And I can do martial arts in heels too," he sounded sad but proud, and even a little defensive about it, "which I bet she can't. It's really, really, fucking hard to do, you know, and also really impressive. Charlie's Angels have got nothing on me." he sniffed again, nodding once for no reason, averting his gaze, also blinking wetness from his eyes.
Peter was actually relieved to hear Wade's nonsensical rambling, since it made him sound more like himself, and he liked hearing that, he'd missed it. He was foolishly endeared. Foolishly in love.
"I also have no hair, while she has so much hair. I'll never clog up the drain." he said like he was joking, but his voice was very watery and he was avoiding eye contact, "And yeah, I'm really ugly, but I'm also rich, like, really rich, and I'm fine with being used for my money, totally fine." Peter didn't like Wade calling himself ugly, but by that point he was feeling lighter in his chest and he was amused, "We can be liked that Bruno Mars song, That's What I Like. I'd like it a lot if you wanted to use me for my money. Use it for whatever you want. Use away." he raised his left hand, wiggling his fingers in the air, catching the falling water with his fingers and flicking some drops around, "Literally anything you want. And I use literally very literally." he nodded again, slowly lowering his hand, gaze on the wall as he started to hum a song, probably the Bruno Mars song he'd mentioned, and Peter...Peter dared to smile slightly.
He quickly pursed his lips to stop it, averting his eyes too as he sniffed again, eyes continuing to burn with building tears. His eyes were probably so puffy and he knew he likely looked awful, and God, Wade was such a dick to have put him in such a situation. But Peter already wanted to smile more and more. Wade had been gone for almost three weeks without a word. He'd said he chose to have no contact in some place with a dead zone, he'd been getting himself killed because it was a loophole to not breaking his agreement with Peter, and then he'd showed up, seriously injured, half dead, dying...he'd died, and now he was saying things that made Peter feel all kinds of ways and made him want to smile and forgive him just so he could be close to Wade again and Wade was such a dick...but Peter loved him.
Peter licked his water and tear damp lips and looked at the merc, who was still staring off solemnly to the side, his expression so ready to crumple into crying, Peter could actually see his hairless brow twitching. Peter himself still felt like he might cry some more, but having made a decision about the situation, he knew he needed to let Wade know. So, after taking a moment to twist around and turn off the running water, Peter turned back and looked at Wade again, sniffing as he pushed his dripping wet hair back from his face, before saying,
"I don't have a problem." quite softly, but in the silent bathroom it felt so loud.
When Wade turned his head to look at him then, he met his gaze directly, and he could clearly see the pain of perceived rejection in them,
"Well, okay, yeah, I deserve it, I deserve you kicking me to the curb, but." his jaw set stubbornly despite looking like he was about to cry, "I'm still gonna' hang around and show up whenever, whether you like it or not. I'm gonna' try to get you to like me, to be friends with me, just so I can be around you as often as possible. And I know it sounds fucking weird and creepy, but it'll actually just be a lot like it is in the comics, except my attraction to you will be way less platonic and far from subtle." he finished, his voice very emotional and whispery in the end as he looked away again.
And Peter had no idea what that last bit of Wade's speech was even about, but it was fine, he liked that Wade talked abstract nonsense sometimes. And anyway, it didn't even matter, because Peter had no intention of kicking Wade to the curb. Maybe he was really pathetic for being so accepting and forgiving, but he didn't want to lose Wade either. He wanted to continue to be with Wade. He loved Wade.
So he clarified,
"That does sound a little weird, but it's not a problem," he started and Wade blinked his sad eyes right back to looking at him, "it's not a problem because I want you around, Wade. I want you around, like, a lot ." Peter admitted, watching as Wade's brown eyes widened, glistening as the rest of his face went slack. He looked stunned and seemed winded since he wasn't breathing right then, and Peter took his silence as a chance to be extra clear, "And it's not because you can fight in heels, or won't clog the drain with long hair, or because we can be like Bruno Mars says in some song. It's just because it's what I want." he was starting to smile by that point, just seeing the astonished, disbelieving and adoring look forming on Wade's face.
Wade's mouth opened then and he breathed out,
"I, you, this is, I," which was very inarticulate, making Peter hike up an amused eyebrow. And then Wade sat up a bit more and leaned forward as he found his words, "I definitely expected to spend the rest of your lifetime simping after you, like the lovestruck dumbfuck that I am, but I..." he shook his head and then said very seriously, "You shouldn't take me back, Peter, I'm, I'm..." Peter just stared at him, a small smile playing on his lips, even as his eyes were puffy, red and still watering, and whatever Wade was, he decided to skip saying it, instead asking, "Peter, why ?"
That question again? Hadn't Peter answered that before? Although, he had a better answer to it presently, and it made him properly smile when he said,
" It must be love, love, love. " in a very vague but noticeable tune of the song, and he absolutely loved watching Wade's face as the merc realized Peter knew the song he'd been singing earlier. Wade's expression changed then, and Peter blushed a little as Wade looked at him with an intensely loving gaze, it was even difficult to maintain eye contact. But he did, because he was so glad he could see Wade's entire face, was able to see that sincere look of love. Seeing it made the pain in his chest ease and his shaky stomach fill with slowly fluttering butterflies.
Geez. Was Wade simping for him ? It honestly felt like it was the other way around.
"Peter, baby, Baby Boy ." Wade breathed out each endearment he'd avoided before, keeping Peter smiling as the merc leaned forward even closer and raised his arms. Peter moved as well, sitting up on his knees and easing closer into the V of Wade's legs, effectively closing the small gap between them. They were both breathing a little louder as they touched foreheads, Peter's smile becoming more emotional as he watched Wade smile as well, feeling Wade's working hand firmly settle on his waist, at the same time Wade loosely looped his right arm around his lower back. It wasn't a very comfortable position, especially since kneeling and holding himself that way made his own injuries ache, but Peter knew Wade was feeling pain too, and the merc didn't care, so he didn't care either, choosing to bare the pain for the moment to be close to Wade again.
When he brought his hands up absently a moment later, placing them on either side of Wade's blood and tear-streaked face, it was at the same time as Wade said,
"Fuuuuck, I love you." sounding like the words hurt to leave his throat.
Peter blinked his burning eyes shut and responded by pressing a kiss to the bridge of Wade's nose, and then to his forehead. Wade leaned in to it, inhaling deeply through his nose. And he mumbled something about 'not deserving', but Peter ignored the usual self-deprecation in favor of enjoying the feel of Wade's hand tightening on his hip, gloved fingers clenching into the wet shirt material, while his other arm encircled him a little tighter, just pulling him closer. Peter wanted to be closer.
It'd been a difficult almost three weeks. Peter had really missed him.
And he still had his lips pressed to Wade's forehead, so that was where he smiled as the older super started talk-singing,
" As soon as I wake up, every night, every day, " and Peter just huffed a laugh at Wade's exaggerated English accent, " I know that it's you I need to take the blues away. " but it did sound much better than earlier at least. Peter felt relieved hearing that Wade was singing again, and singing better, it was a sign that his healing factor was working.
Wade didn't keep singing though, instead he changed to humming, and after a moment of just holding each other that way, Peter drew back, holding Wade's face and tilting his head back so they could look at each other. Both of their expressions changed to something sadder and more serious then, and Peter swallowed around a lingering small lump in his throat as he started to use his damp hands to try and wipe away some of the blood on Wade's face, careful of the partially healed wound on the right side of his head.
It was largely unsuccessful since the blood was mostly dry, Wade's face was also dry, and Peter's hands weren't that wet anymore, but Wade didn't seem to mind his face being idly petted, leaving Peter to his distracted touching as he quietly said,
"I can't believe you know that song." voice a little uncertain, even as the look in his eyes was still so loving and reverent. Peter understood his uncertainty though. There was a whole crap lot of stuff they needed to talk about, but instead he was avoiding it. Peter, despite knowing he shouldn't, avoided it too,
"I've been getting really familiar with 80s and 90s music recently." he answered, using his nail to gently peel away some dried blood at Wade's temple, while tracking his eyes over a shifting patch of Wade's rawer skin, over his cheek bone, until he was looking down into Wade's brown eyes, kneeling as he was making him an inch or so taller.
"Because of me, baby?" Wade asked, swallowing audibly, his voice emotional.
Peter gently wiped a hand over Wade's left brow and eye, where more flakes of blood were stuck,
"All the dumb shit I've been doing lately is because of you." Peter mumbled, trying not to smile too much when Wade made a sound like a sad puppy.
The older super's eyes got wet really fast then and he squeezed Peter a little tighter,
"Like getting all beaten up on Spidey duty, and then getting covered in my gross blood." he said, removing his hand from Peter's waist and bringing it up, proffering it with wiggling fingers. Peter guessed what he needed, knowing he was unable to use his other hand to do it, so he used both of his hands to remove the glove for Wade.
"The beaten-up part is a sewer monster's fault." Peter answered as he pulled it off, sniffing and leaning into it as Wade used his ungloved hand to return the favour, pointlessly wiping blood off Peter's damp face with his bloody stained dry hand, making fresh tears spring to Peter's reddened eyes as he dropped the glove aside, "But yeah, I'm covered in your blood because you're an idiot who got himself all messed up and bled everywhere," he shook his head, "but it's not gross." he added in a small, watery voice.
They were both ready to start crying again.
"It's at least a little gross, right?" Wade asked, question half choked as he pushed his hand up into Peter's wet hair, pushing back the curls that had fallen forward again, but mindful of the bruise along the side of his eyebrow. Something so small, like Wade's gentle touch, had Peter's heart rate speeding up and he breathed in and out a little shakily as he nodded,
"Okay, yeah, maybe it's a little gross." he also sounded choked, "The hand thing-"
"Yeah, I know, fuck, I know," Wade was nodding, "it's gross. So gross." Peter nodded some more, bringing his hands up again to smooth over Wade's scarred face, over his cheeks and ears until he was holding the back of the merc's head, Wade saying, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, baby." sounding guilty and worried, shaking his head as he slid his hand down to hold the side of Peter's neck.
"It's okay, it's fine." Peter responded, voice still choked.
"It's not , I really fucked up this time, Peter. I know I did. It's so fucke-"
"It is. Yeah, okay, I know, but, but I'm okay." and in some weird way, he really felt mostly okay, except, "Just, just don't l-leave again..." oh God, he was crying again, his words sounding almost like a sob, "it was really fuh-effed up, Wade. What you did really sucked." he said honestly, voice thick with emotion.
"I'm done running, baby." Wade's voice was emotional too, and the merc wrapped both arms around him then, and Peter did the same around Wade's neck, their foreheads touching again, "I consider you mine now, Peter, and I'm sorry if that sounds possessive and assholish, but it's true." he said it so matter of factly Peter almost laughed, but he was feeling too emotionally drowned right then, so he just nodded. Yes, he nodded. Because he didn't have a problem with that, not at all. He liked how it sounded, and it went both ways. He wanted Wade to be his, only his.
After some more breathing and sniffing together, Peter felt himself shiver and Wade immediately noticed, asking,
"You cold?"
Peter nodded, his forehead rubbing against Wade's, the texture unusual, pleasantly memorable, like how it felt under his hands...like the memory of how Wade's hands had felt on his body, how all of his skin had felt touching Peter's on the night they'd spent tog-
"Turn the shower back on, Pete, you need to warm up." the merc suggested softly.
Peter's eyes had drifted closed, but he opened them as he shook his head slowly, clearing the thoughts of that night from his mind as he snorted softly,
"My water and heating bills are going to be crazy."
"Don't worry about that, Baby Boy, I'm rich remember." Wade reminded him and Peter snorted again, shivered again, then drew away to sit back on his sore legs, Wade's arms loosening around him while he moved his hands to settle on Wade's broad shoulders,
"I don't need you paying my bills, Wade."
"You don't need it, but I don't mind doing it. I'm happy to do it."
Peter appreciated that, but he really hoped he wouldn't need to actually ask Wade for money for bills at any point, because he'd didn't want Wade thinking he was with him for money, so he just said,
"Thanks, but no thanks." Wade didn't miss a beat,
"Well, I mean, if you change your mi-"
Clink.
Peter frowned and Wade raised his eyebrows.
"What was that?" Peter asked, both confused and amused. It had sounded like something small and metal falling on the tiles-
"A bullet."
"...what?" okay, more confused and less amused.
"A, uh, a bullet."
"A bullet ?"
"Yeah."
" Wade. "
"It's a good thing! It's better than when they end up coming out of myphm-" Peter had to stop him from finishing that sentence, somehow just knowing where it was headed, so he covered the merc's mouth with his hands and said very, very fondly,
"Just shut up, Wade."
Eventually they had to get clean and get out of the shower.
So with Peter's help, Wade stood up, although it wasn't actually necessary. Despite his knee not being properly healed yet, or any of his other injuries, Wade had walked, and even fought, with much worse, but still, he didn't resist Peter's help. Once standing, Peter turned away and opened the faucets again, mumbling something about just needing to wash the blood off himself. So Wade quietly stood by, feeling like the worthless asshole he was, and trying not to stare too much at Peter, for the four minutes the younger super took to give himself a quick wash and rinse down.
When Peter was done, hair and clothes soaked and clinging to his skin distractingly, he turned the water off again and turned around, pushing his soaking lovely brown curls back from his face as he opened the door while telling Wade he could just leave his suit hanging over the shower partition. And then Peter got out, wet clothes and all, leaving him in the shower stall alone. Wade stood for a moment, leaving the water turned off, the silence allowing him to hear Peter moving around in the bathroom for a further minute before he finally seemed to actually leave.
Once he was alone in the bathroom, albeit not really having much privacy, since Peter's place was really small and he was likely right outside in the bedroom, Wade allowed himself to clench his jaw and mentally curse himself, his working hand tightening into a white knuckled fist as he seethed at himself quietly.
As usual when he got fucked up, he was in pain, that was normal, par for the course, another day that ended in 'Y', but the slow ass healing really dragged it out. Even his fucking finger and toenails were hurting. Fuck. It was his own fault it was slow obviously, because just as he'd told Peter, he'd been on a ridiculous binge of self-destruction, the very extreme kind, the kind that rivaled his blip-era depression, where he'd basically let the bad guys get the better of him every time, in hopes that one time, just one was all he needed, his death might stick. Which was dumb as fuck, which he was. That never worked. And his stupidity never led to anything good. Never. But he'd done it anyway. And, so, yeah, it fucking hurt all over and that sucked big time...but the physical pain was not what had him grinding his teeth and cursing expletives in his mind, wanting to smash things in his anger. No. That feeling was because his weak, sad, pathetic, sorry ass had been too desperate to stay away long enough to heal before showing up and bringing his shitstorm existence back into Peter's life! If he'd just waited, Peter wouldn't have had to deal with his mess, wouldn't have ended up covered in his blood. Fuck it all. No physical pain would ever outdo the ache in his chest right then, just thinking about the last half hour that he'd put Peter through.
He'd fucking died in front of Peter! He'd never even done that in front of Vanessa! And it'd been while Peter had been holding him! So he'd actually died on Peter, which, okay, it sounded tragically romantic but hard NO, it was not. Christ fucking cow balls, he was such a total piece of shit!
How in the fuck had Peter not just yeeted him right back out of the fucking window? That's what he would have deserved, that was all he would have fucking deserved, a face full of Peter's fist and then getting tossed out, down into the alley like the trash that he was.
His injuries were aching with how tense he was, standing quietly while mentally berating himself. He was so supremely pissed off about what he'd done, and was just getting angrier as he thought of how the first thing he'd seen once he'd woken up from his brief death, was Peter's stricken expression, his pale face. Then the hurt on Peter's face, then the anger ...and then like an angel, Peter had chosen to help his despicable, undeserving ass up off the floor. And somehow, after all that, after the past few weeks, Peter decided to still give a shit about him. Peter had still held him, touched him, had said he still wanted him. The whole scenario that had just played out felt a lot like a bizarre dream. It felt like there had been forgiveness, like Peter actually forgave him for being such a colossal fuck up . And fuck, the indirect confession of love...the second indirect confession of love actually.
And his own first direct confession...
All of that had Wade wanting to believe it was okay, that everything was fine, he really did want to, but how could he trust that Peter was being honest about his feelings? Not even necessarily honest with Wade, but rather with himself. How was he not angrier? Why was he not hateful and resentful? Wade didn't want to doubt it, but he knew that when people got emotional, they sometimes said and did things they didn't mean. And it was entirely possible that Peter, seeing him all fucked up after weeks of absence, and then witnessing him dying, had made the younger super choose to forgive him, even when maybe he wasn't ready to.
There'd actually been a few signs that Peter might still be harboring negative feelings. Like his words from earlier; 'you fucked me and then you ditched me'.
Fuck, those words had rattled Wade to his core, and still brought tears to his eyes right then, and they'd been said in such a raw and honest way, how could he forget or dismiss them? How could he forget he'd caused Peter that pain? In running away from his own insecurities that day, the fact that they had only just slept together the night prior hadn't even crossed his mind. All he'd been thinking about was leaving Peter to get on with his life, with his perfect, pretty girlfriend...and about sparing himself the inevitable humiliation of face to face rejection. Selfish. And stupid.
His name should have been Selfish Stupid Wade Wilson.
He'd been so caught up in his own bullshit, he hadn't thought for even a second about the timing of his actions, if he had, he'd have realized that leaving when he had was totally shitty of him. It hadn't only been first time sex with a new person for Peter, but also his first time having sex with a guy!
Ugh, Wade was so fucking disgusted with himself.
How was he supposed to ever make this right?
Because it wasn't right, even if Peter had held him and kissed his ugly face, even with that, it was Peter's behaviour before and after the emotional sentimental peak that Wade had noticed and was concerned about. Peter had said those words before, and then after, when they'd separated from sitting on the shower floor, the atmosphere had become tense again, and Peter had avoided eye contact.
Not to mention, he'd kept all his clothes on to wash and rinse himself down, which couldn't have been comfortable, especially getting out of the shower afterward with soaked clothes on. He hadn't even taken off his T shirt. Wade couldn't help noticing that, because it was a direct contradiction to the level of physical comfort and intimacy Peter had shown before. Peter had always been so physically comfortable around him, so much so that Wade had barely known how to deal with it. But now something had changed, something was different, in a bad way, and it was his own fault. The comfort was gone, all because he'd left at one of the worst possible times, and he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to fix it.
How could he regain that trust?
Wade exhaled quietly, absently hearing the clink of another bullet shell hitting the shower tiles as he brought his hand up to rub at his itchy face. The dried blood and sweat were starting to get to him. The last 'bath' he'd taken was when his temporarily dead body had been tossed into the Hudson River up state two days earlier. Although, floating for miles in the Hudson had helped him get back to NYC faster.
That was all that had been on his mind in the last week; get back to New York. Even the knife he'd taken in the cranium hadn't been enough to stop him from making his way to Peter...
But, shit, thinking of the knife made him think of the fact that Peter had had to take it out, and then he thought of how Peter had yelled at him, how Peter had yelled not to touch him .
"Fuck." he muttered softly, shutting his eyes and moving his hand, about to hit himself in the face, but he stopped, thinking Peter might hear it, and just pressed his fingers and thumb into his eyes instead. Hard.
For the longest time, Wade had been so afraid and dreading hearing those words. Don't touch me . And although the situation and context were totally different than he'd imagined it would be, they'd still hurt to hear. He deserved to hurt though. He deserved Peter's anger. And Peter's harsh words. He'd take whatever Peter said or did, he'd take it and he'd accept it and he wouldn't run again. And going forward he knew he had to be more mindful and more careful, he had to watch his mouth and his hands and his actions. He didn't want to take any wrong steps or cross any lines. If Peter was really going to forgive him, Wade didn't want to make it any harder for him. If he wanted Peter to let him stick around permanently, he really had to keep himself in check.
He couldn't help feeling a little hopeless though, because every good thing he'd ever had in his life, he'd always fucked it up. It was hard to stay positive that it would be any different with Peter, because Peter had already given him so many chances, eventually it would be one time too many and he really would get kicked to the curb. It was ridiculous though, that previously, he'd been afraid of rejection so he'd run, now, he was still afraid of rejection, but he wanted to cling. Fuck, he was so messed up.
But he wasn't going to run away. Not again. He had to face it. So, taking in a fortifying breath, which turned into a weak sigh, he dropped his hand from his eyes and started the difficult, but not impossible, task of peeling himself out of his damaged suit with one hand.
It wasn't like it was the first time he'd had to do so, missing some limbs.
Towards the end of his shower, Wade had heard Peter say he'd left a clean towel for him, and very belatedly, it occurred to him that he was going to have to walk out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel...into Peter's bedroom, where the light would probably be on. Worst still, he had no clothes to put on. And yeah, even though he had no right to be wanting to hide himself after everything he'd done, years of self-consciousness and self-hatred piled up was hard to brush aside. Because although he'd been naked with Peter the last time, the bedroom light hadn't been on, and the next morning Peter had left in such a hurry to fight crime, Wade hadn't had a chance to fret about the fact that he'd been visibly naked from the waist up in Peter's bed in broad daylight. How the hell was he-
"Fuck. Stop. Fucking stop it." he hissed at himself quietly, shutting off the water abruptly. His head was hanging down, water dripping off his face, and as he stared at the soap suds still sliding down his legs, lingering between his toes and swirling down the drain, Wade took several slow, deep breaths to clear his mind. No more fucking up . He had to get over that shit. Peter had said so many times that he had no problem his skin, so it was time to start believing him. No more hiding or second guessing. He had to stop.
A few breaths later, Wade turned and opened the shower door, spotting a towel loosely folded and hanging on a rail nearby and grabbing it to wrap it around himself one handed, using his unresponsive hand and forearm as much as he could to help. His hand was staying attached at least, even though the nerves and muscles hadn't properly connected yet. He grimaced though, at the blood his wrist left behind on the towel as he'd knotted it at his hip, and then he grimaced some more, feeling instantly bad about how some of his other injuries, which were still very lightly bleeding, were causing several trickles of blood tainted water to slip down his body, dripping off his hands and quickly staining the edge of the towel at his waist. He also knew that he was about to mess more blood tainted footprints on the floor from his leg wounds, his knee especially, and that sucked because looking at the floor, it seemed Peter had done a hasty clean up already. Shit. He wouldn't have given a fuck in his own place, but he hated to be causing Peter these problems on top of everything else.
His healing was really taking its sweet fucking time, but while his knee and the wounds on his side and chest were still showing too much raw muscle, tendons, dermis and hints of bone, the bones at least felt more or less intact again, which was good. He couldn't help feeling nervous about Peter seeing him though, and so, even though he'd intended to avoid the mirror, he felt like he had to look. Stepping out of the shower, he stepped over to the bathroom counter and looked into the mirror.
"Holy fuck." he breathed out. Forget his fucking shitty skin, how was Peter going to deal with seeing missing chunks in his body? It wasn't an unfamiliar sight for him, being able to see his bones and inner flesh, but for Peter? Wade frowned as he looked at the wound in the side of his head, which was filling out very slowly but was basically still a raw, open gash.
'Fuck, Peter saw that.' he realized, breathing a little faster, swallowing thickly. But then he clenched his jaw and pushed back against his fears, mentally telling himself again, 'Peter saw that.' to steel himself against wanting to hide.
Peter had seen that wound in the shower earlier and he'd seemed okay, he'd even touched Wade's face and kissed his forehead. Hell, Peter hadn't even flinched when he'd looked at his face right after he'd pulled off his mask. That meant something. It meant Peter wasn't afraid of the gore that generally accompanied him everywhere. And Wade had no idea how come, but Peter seemed to just accept yet another fucked up thing about him.
'He is Spider-Man, though,' he pursed his lips, bringing his left hand up to wipe at some watery blood about to drip off his jaw, 'my injuries can't be the only ones he's ever seen, maybe not even the worst.' and yeah, he needed to remember that too. Remind himself of that. Peter wasn't some normie, he was a superhero, a superhero in NYC for fucks sake. He had definitely been through and seen some fucked up shit. Peter was strong, he was really strong. Physically and emotionally. He was amazing. Wade really admired him, really loved him. 'I have to trust that he accepts me.' he told himself again...
But even so, he still got stuck there, staring hatefully at himself in the mirror, looking over his horrible appearance, with blood trickling over his raw, patchy discolored skin, all of his still healing stab wounds and cuts and bullet wounds on dis-
"Wade, what's wrong?" Peter asked quietly and Wade flinched slightly, dropping his eyes from the mirror to the countertop to avoid Peter's gaze as the younger man stepped into the bathroom doorway. Wade could feel his presence there, and he wanted to look at him, but he was scared of what he'd see reflected in Peter's eyes, and also, seeing the cuts and bruises on Peter's face would just make him want to bash his face into the mirr- fuck, he needed to stop thinking like that!
He breathed as evenly as he could then, trying to calm himself down while Peter just stood there, patiently waiting for a response and probably looking at his back, which he knew wouldn't look any better than his front. He remembered he'd been shot in his back a whole bunch of times before he'd been tossed in that river, and most of those wounds had also not healed properly yet, were probably also bleeding down his back, staining the towel. He was such a fucking mess, and Peter was just looking at him. He couldn't stand the silence of it, but since he couldn't hide from it either, couldn't hide from Peter anymore, he chose to address it directly, saying,
"I'm still fucked up." voice strained and gruff as he raised his eyes again slowly, eventually meeting Peter's tired gaze in the mirror's reflection, "Bleeding all over your shit." he added, without thinking, frowning and dropping his eyes again.
He didn't know if he should have been surprised that Peter just sighed,
"It's only a towel, Wade." making Wade clench his jaw as his chest ached, "And floors can be cleaned." Peter probably didn't even know how to not be so perfect, so understanding. What really got to Wade though, was the underlying emotion in his tone, which let Wade know that the sight of him so fucked up was upsetting Peter. He didn't care about his towels or his floor, Peter cared about hi- "I've got some leftover takeout in the fridge and a couple of TV dinners I can warm up, there's also bread and potato chips and other high calorie foods you can eat." Peter was saying, stepping into the bathroom, walking right up next to him and leaning down to open a cupboard, taking out a large first aid kit, "You can eat...while I put some dressings on your wounds until they heal." Peter added more quietly, and then he stood up, closed the cupboard and turned to leave the bathroom.
"Pete-"
"Healing factors need lots of calories to function properly, Wade." he said firmly, leaving no room for argument as he disappeared around the corner, out of sight. Wade just stared after him, breathing deeply, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He'd seen Peter glance at his knee, which was still showing bone, dripping blood down his shin very slowly, and he'd heard Peter's breath hitch, saw him try not to frown.
Jesus. He'd screwed himself up so much that even the wounds that would usually have healed up in minutes on a good day, were taking ages. All because he'd been running on fumes, pushing himself to every edge, not eating or sleeping properly, or at all, in weeks. Also, his bad state of mind usually affected his healing factor quite a lot. Looking at his reflection again, Wade's lips tightened as he watched a fresh line of blood run down his scarred face, wondering again how Peter could st-
He heard the beep of the microwave being set.
It snapped him back again, made him shake his head once and blink his eyes hard a few times. Shit, he could guess it would take a while for him to completely stop his mental backstepping, but he'd force himself to get there. Maybe...maybe it'd get easier in future. Right then though, he chose to take the present moment one step and a time. And at that moment, Peter wanted to him eat, and he owed it to Peter to heal faster, so he'd eat, and he'd heal. He didn't want Peter hurting while just looking at him wounded, Peter wanted him to be well. Peter...Peter loved him, and that meant everything to Wade.
Meeting his eyes one more time in the mirror, now wet with tears, Wade unclenched his jaw and nodded to himself. Peter loved him. It was real. He had to stop telling himself it wasn't.
It was real.
He pushed himself away from the bathroom counter then and walked out, heading through the room and out into the lounge area, intent on going to the kitchen. As he walked through the apartment though, he glanced at the partially cleaned up bloody mess he'd left behind on the floor when Peter had helped him to the bathroom. In the lounge, the light was still switched off, and he stopped walking because in the light from the kitchen serving hatch, he could see the huge bloody mess he'd left under the lounge window. That hadn't been touched, even the knife that Peter had pulled out of the back of his head was still lying there. Wade decided immediately that he'd clean it up the first chance he go-
He heard movement in the kitchen and turned to look at Peter through the serving hatch. The younger super was moving around, busy with something. And Wade could smell the microwave dinner being heated up, smelled like lasagna. Peter was getting food together...for him. Right. Eat and heal. He had to eat and heal and get better for Peter's sake. He approached the kitchen entrance then, his thoughts starting to meander down the same old path of self-hatred for his continuous fuck ups...
But when he stopped in the doorway of the bright kitchen and his eyes fell on Peter, who had changed into a striped pajama pants and loose fitting tank shirt, his brown hair a roughly dried damp mess, he blinked hard again, forcing himself to stop, to focus. He was determined to stay in Peter's life, but he wanted to, had to do it, in a healthy way, so the self-hatred was n-,
"Sit down, start eating." Peter said without looking at him, still laying out food, and even though his voice was tired and not even loud, it didn't sound like a request.
Wade swallowed sorely, thinking,
'I have to love him the way he deserves to be loved.' and seeing the bruising on Peter's forehead and cheek and jaw, and seeing more bruising and fine cuts on his bare arms, and since he was wearing a loose tank shirt after changing his clothes, Wade could even see part of the bruising on his side...seeing all of that pain that he'd either caused somehow or hadn't been there for Peter, to help him through, it drove the point of needing to change into him like another knife in his skull.
He had to love Peter like he deserved to be loved.
And fuck, he really was in love with Peter. And he had to start really showing him that.
Wade moved forward then and sat down in the nearest chair at Peter's small kitchen table, wanting to avoid Peter having to tell him again. Peter had just taken a TV dinner out of the microwave and he was putting another in. Afterwards he came over and placed the freshly heated one in front of Wade, even going so far as to peel it open and slip a fork into the, yep, lasagna. Wade didn't miss a beat, didn't even hesitate or question anything, he just leaned forward, picked up the fork and started to eat.
Ouch, hot. But a little scalding on his tongue was manageable. He couldn't even feel it really, not when the wound in his side was screaming in ten different kinds of pain.
He really just didn't want to give Peter a hard time, he didn't want to take up anymore of his energy or effort. He was so plainly exhausted, but he kept moving around. Wade was mostly keeping his eyes downcast, but he glanced up at Peter every so often. At some point, a sealed bottle of water and half empty 2 liter of Coke were placed on the table as well, along with a glass.
Peter opened the Coke, filled the glass with it, saying,
"You can eat whatever I have, I'll get more stuff tomorrow or whatever." and for Wade, swallowing his present mouthful after hearing that, really hurt. But he didn't say anything in protest, just nodded.
It went on like that for a while.
Wade kept eating, not even caring what he was eating, he just ate whatever Peter put on the table. TV dinners, potato chip sandwiches smothered in ketchup, twinkies, cookies, chocolate and other snack foods. He even ate two bananas and an apple. He drank the water, all of it, drank the coke too, even though it was pretty flat. And apple juice had appeared at some point, which he was working his way through, because gross, but yeah, he just kept eating and drinking.
He just focused on that because at some point Peter had begun putting thick patches of gauze dressings on the worst of his wounds that could be reached in that sitting position; on his back, his head, his left side and left leg. Wade felt like he was disassociating a bit, but every time he felt his mind slipping, he'd force himself back into reality by biting his tongue very hard, barely tasting the blood since he'd had some internal bleeding that kept him tasting blood in his mouth and throat anyway since the day before. And as he ate, he continued to sneak glances at any part of Peter that he could see while the younger super patched him up, even just seeing his hand when he'd reach for something in the first aid kit on the other chair was worth it. But that was it, he just ate, drank, chewed, chewed, breathed, snuck glances and also listened to Peter's breathing. The light feeling of Peter's gentle touches as he pressed gauze and tape here and there were also calming, and helpful in keeping Wade grounded in the moment.
By the time there was nothing left in front of him to eat or drink Wade had managed not to slip too far inside his head. A few tears had left his eyes but they'd also dried by the time he was done. He wasn't even tasting what he'd eaten, all he was aware of was his own breathing and Peter's, and how silent it seemed aside from those two sounds.
They hadn't talked in however long they'd been in the kitchen. Was that good or ba-?!
Peter abruptly and easily turned the chair he was sitting in with that super-strength of his. Wade blinked a few times too many, surprised as his position was changed suddenly, so that he was turned away from facing the table enough that Peter could...get down on his knees in front of him. For the second time that evening, or third actually? If Wade counted when he'd first showed up totally fucking out of it and almost dead. Jesus, not again, it wasn't okay!
"Peter." he said, his voice sounding so pathetic and uncomfortable, because he didn't want Peter on his knees like that, as if Wade deserved his kindness, deserved any of the help he was giving. But Peter didn't even acknowledge him, already beginning to dress the major wound on his right knee, his hand movements quite deft and certain as they lightly cut and applied gauze, cut and pressed and stuck tape to hold it on, added a thin layer of bandage...
Wade didn't even so much as shift a finger or toe as Peter worked on his right leg, and then when the younger super was done, he said,
"Sit back." and it was in that tired but authoritative tone that Wade only occasionally heard from Peter. He liked that tone, he'd had plenty of fantasies about that tone, but it was a very bad idea to think about that right then, since after he sat back, Peter was more or less between his knees as he started to dress a smaller wound on his abdomen.
Wade had been looking down, but he had to look away to the side, because Peter kneeling and tending to his wounds and seeing the small sticky blood stains on the tips of his fingers and also the bruising and how tired Peter looked, it made him feel like absolute shit all over again. He'd been wanting to catch glances of Peter, but now he was seeing how exhausted he was, he was feeling sick. In the end, he'd be fine. It was Peter who needed more sleep and more food and...and he was being so gentle about it too, like Wade deserved his careful touch, like Wade was worth treating delicately. Wade had once eaten rat poison on a dare! He didn't deserve to be treated so nicely! Fuck!
After a moment of sitting and staring off to the side, Wade realized there was no more touching or tape sounds, which meant Peter was done? But he hadn't stood up? He turned his head to look at the younger super again then, and he found that Peter's focus was on the blood patch that had seeped through the towel fairly high up on the front of his right thigh. As it was the towel was only just long enough to touch his knees, sitting down had ridden it up, but the wound was still much higher up.
Peter seemed to be just staring at the blood patch as he kneeled there, and Wade started to feel anxious with uncertainty. Sure, they'd had sex once before, but that had been when things had been good between them, and Wade had no idea what Peter was thinking right then, and the situation felt all wrong and his doubt of Peter's vulnerable, emotional state of mind scared him, made him feel uneasy and confused. With all that in mind, Wade played it safe and said,
"The food is helping, Pete, I can feel it starting to work." which wasn't a total lie, he could feel it, he was still too exhausted and far from feeling good or relaxed for it to be working hard and fast, but it was working a little, "You don't have to do this anymore, the rest will sort itself out." then he added more quietly, "You should get up."
Peter was sitting back on his legs, with Wade's lower legs and feet on either side of his knees, and the atmosphere was more than a little weird between them, like it was not bad, but also not so good, or not settled and comfortable like it had been a few times before. So it was really difficult for Wade to know what to do or say when Peter didn't respond or even move at first, but after a few too long seconds, when he finally did, Wade was totally thrown off by Peter looking up at him with a sad half smile and saying,
"You know, I've, uh, pictured a scenario similar to this, with you and me," Wade immediately held his breath, "except I wasn't on my knees because I was dressing your wounds."
Wade was quite sure he couldn't have taken a breath in that moment even if he tried to. So instead, and so much worse, he didn't do anything, just stared at Peter with wide eyes, not breathing. Of course, it made the moment super awkward, enough that Peter averted his gaze and cleared his throat as he quickly moved to stand up again. And the tips of his ears were reddening when he began to put the unused items back into the first aid kit while saying,
"I, uh, found something I think you can wear, probably..." he trailed off, closing the first aid container with a bit of a loud snap in the silent kitchen.
Wade was still trying to process the fact that Peter had just confessed to having fantasized about being on his knees and, and...holy ass fucking shitsticks. He recalled very clearly that Peter had wanted to give him a blowjob the night they'd had sex, but Wade hadn't known that Peter had actually actively pictured doing it in fantasy scenarios! It was incredibly hot to think it-
"Take these too," Peter set a new, smaller bottle of water and four white capsule pills on the table, "I don't know how much they'll help, it's just extra strength Tylenol, but it tends to take the edge off for me, when I take em'."
"Thanks, Pete." Wade forced out, voice half a wheeze, and he took the pills and drank a few gulps of water obediently. He wasn't about to refuse a damn thing or even mention the fact that Tylenol was less effective than taking baby aspirin when it came to him. If Peter wanted him to take the pills, he'd take them.
"So, uh, the clothes are in my room." Peter said, gesturing to the kitchen doorway as Wade chugged more water, and after clearing the bottle, Wade nodded and stood up as he put it down. Peter turned and started to leave, but Wade paused and glanced at the mess in the kitchen, a frown forming on his face. He'd already made such a mes-
"Don't worry about it, leave it for tomorrow." Peter was saying, already walking out.
Wade didn't question it. He just followed.
When he walked into the room, Peter was standing at the foot of the bed, holding a white T-shirt in his hands,
"I tried to find the biggest shirt and pair of pants I have, but you know, you're still kinda' bigger than my big, so." he shrugged a bit.
Wade looked at the plain white T-shirt half folded in Peter's hands, and wanting very much to break the awkward tense moment he'd created in the kitchen earlier, he said,
"Kinda' is an understatement, don't you think? I'm a lot bigger than you." in as much of a teasing voice as he could manage, ignoring the fact that he probably looked worse than ridiculous standing there almost naked, all scarred up and with a patch work of bloody gauze everywhere.
Peter managed to huff a weak laugh and Wade immediately wished he could hear more of it, he wished there was some way he could think of to lift the cloud of tension between them, the weird not bad, but not good vibe, that they'd settled into.
"It's the only shirt I own that is an extra-large size." he let the shirt fall open between his hands and Wade saw the front of it had the words 'I survived my trip to New York', as well as a picture of a cab, printed on it. Wade raised his eyebrows and slowly took a few steps closer, until he could reach out a hand out for the shirt,
"That might not be too bad actually, it'll be tight, but in a 'showing off my muscles' kind of way." and wow, was it difficult to talk about his body when his skin was on display, his words didn't come out even half as confident as they would have had he been in his suit. And it was worse knowing how extra fucked up he looked right then.
Peter had a grimacing-smirk on his face that looked kind of apologetic when he glanced and gestured to the pants folded on the bed,
"And those are the only extra larg-"
"GASP." Wade said, yes, he said gasp. His eyes widened too as he looked at the pink Hello Kitty pants on the bed. He walked around Peter to the bed and dropped the shirt there before picking up the pants, "These are great ." and he was only slightly exaggerating, he did actually like them. They looked so comfy too.
"Really?" Peter asked skeptically, looking half amused and half confused.
Wade, who was pretty eager to put on any clothes, nodded and stretched the waist of the pants as much as the drawstring would allow,
"Fuck yeah, it's a great pink." it would also be pretty tight on him, but still wearable. He was curious though, and after lowering the pants he had to ask, "Why do you have these?" and he watched an expression of a different sadness briefly pass over Peter's features.
Peter raised his eyebrows and gestured to the clothes, gaze lowering,
"Mister Sta-, uh, Tony, he bought them for me years ago, not long before I met you for the first time."
Wade had to frown, because the clothes were pretty weird items to buy a teenager,
"Gonna' need some context, Pete. Were you guys having a slumber party?" he took the opportunity of Peter's gaze being downcast to drop the pants and pick the shirt up again to quickly pull it on, which, ouch. But the pain faded to background noise because Peter had noticed his abrupt movements and looked up as Wade was pulling the too tight shirt down over his patched-up torso.
Peter's gaze lingered on his stretched abdomen for a hot second, and Wade did his level best not to make it weird again, so he didn't pause for too long before he completed pulling the shirt down, at which point, Peter finally looked away. And the tips of his ears were a little red again, which maybe made Wade feel a little better about-
"He was angry at me," Peter started to explain, fidgeting with his fingers, "because I'd kinda' messed up a thing I was doing, didn't listen to him, and something really bad nearly happened to a lot of people." Wade watched Peter turn then, walking around the bed to stand at the side, where he started to pull back the covers, "He confiscated the suit he made for me after that stuff up, that first proper suit I ever had, the one I don't often wear now, you know?" he glanced over with a questioning look as he moved the two pillows into place. And Wade nodded, remembering how Spider-Man had gone from wearing a pajama-like suit, to a tightfitting professional suit that had had Wade drooling after him, before he'd known Peter was a minor under that spandex. "Yeah, that one," Peter went on, running a hand through his messy, almost dry hair, "and so I needed a change of clothes in order for him to take the suit, because I had no extra clothes with me, and that, " he'd gestured to the clothes, "was what he bought me to wear." and he looked a little fond , like maybe the memory of Tony Stark buying him such purposely embarrassing clothes didn't upset him at all.
It definitely upset Wade. Pissed him off hella. Jesus fuck, Tony Stark, what a dick.
Buuuut maybe he just didn't understand the relationship Peter had had with Tony Stark. Maybe it'd been an older sibling or father figure vibe, and with that sort of relationship, teasing and embarrassing the younger sibling or the son was common. Or at least that's what TV usually portrayed. Wade had no siblings to speak of, so he had no actual idea.
He did recall the first night he met Spider-Man though, quite clearly surprisingly. He'd been wearing that pajama suit, and he'd been quite beaten up after some big fight on the beachfront. He had to wonder whether Peter wouldn't have had such a hard time if he'd been wearing the fancy Stark sui- waaait! Had Stark confiscating the suit been the reason Peter had been in such bad shape that night? Wade had seen Peter's fancy variety of Stark suits, that shit was advanced and high tech, probably really good at protecting the wearer. Why take the suit away from Peter knowing he could get hurt without it?
What a douche bag!
It made him really angry to think about it, but it wasn't like he could fucking do anything about it. That had been so many years ago...also, Peter had been a kid. Maybe Stark had told Peter not to do Spider-Man stuff, and maybe, the dumbass had actually expected Peter to listen to him. Pssh. Even Wade could tell Peter wouldn't listen to something like that. Peter was a superhero at heart. You could take the super suit off of him, but there was no taking the superhero out of him. Wade loved that about hi-
"He gave the suit back though," Wade blinked away thoughts of a beaten up fifteen year old Spider-Man and focused on adult Peter, who was getting into the bed, "after that fight I had, that same night I met you, that fight was to stop a lot of Stark tech from being highjacked." he settled on one side of the bed, sitting down before drawing his legs up to hook his arms around his knees, "He was impressed that I stopped it, probably relieved and grateful too, but he wouldn't say as much." Peter's smirk was a little smug now, and still fond, "And yeah, in the end, he gave me the suit back...he never, ever tried to take it away again either." he sighed softly.
Wade just nodded, even though Peter wasn't looking at him. He definitely knew that whatever close relationship Peter had developed with Stark was familial somehow, because Peter just sounded fond and sad and like he really missed the guy, not bitter at all. So he didn't comment. He didn't have anything nice to say about Stark anyway. And more importantly, he felt kind of awkward again. He wasn't sure what was supposed to happen next. He was standing there in just a too tight T shirt and a bath towel and it was probably not far from sunrise and Peter had gotten into the bed...
Wade didn't want to make any assumptions, because if he assumed wrong and he fucked up again so soon, well, that would be a new record even for him, but everything about the situation seemed to point to Peter expecting him to stay, and to get into the bed. Still, he didn't want to assume that was what Peter wanted. That left him with only the option of asking . And after everything that he'd done wrong, so much wrong, he needed to keep things clear and totally transparent, he needed Peter's expectations and boundaries to be really clear for him right then.
Peter's thoughts seemed to have drifted for the moment, he looked like he was thinking about something distant, sitting there with his eyes downcast. And fuck, Wade was reminded of how tired he was, taking note of the half lidded and slightly glossy red state of his eyelids, the bruising on his face and the rest of his body. And he looked so small and a little defeated and it all made Wade feel worse, because he knew he'd contributed to Peter's present state in some way. In too many ways!
His absence, his distance, then showing up so damaged, then dying, and all the blood he'd messed everywhere, as well as the mess in the kitchen Peter had made because of him. Wade really felt like he needed to do something about it, about all of it. So he grabbed the pants up off the bed and quickly pulled them on under the towel, letting the towel drop after he had the too tight, and also somewhat too short, pink pants on. Then he looked at Peter and said,
"You should get some sleep, Peter, you look really tired and..." he trailed off when Peter's gaze rose and settled on him, sharp and very unimpressed and displeased,
"Are you leaving?" he asked, voice fairly flat, but there was notable tension, disbelief and anger underlying it. Yeah, so, Wade had guessed it. There was a lot of anger and mistrust Peter was still feeling, and he was totally justified to be feeling that way! Peter was also still super pissed off at him. And Wade felt his stomach swoop and then knot up worryingly because he felt like Peter was probably so ready to be done with him, and after what he'd gone through trying to leave Peter, and failing, failing so fucking hard, Wade knew he wasn't able to take any chances any more.
Typical of his life.
He'd fucked up over and over and now when he was ready to go all in and totally commit, no more running or being afraid, at the same time he'd managed to push Peter to the point of where even any unintentional mistakes on his part, would probably make Peter break it off with him. He'd been so undeservingly lucky every time so far, but the time for risks and mistakes and bullshit were over. Clarity and transparency seemed like the only way to move forward.
"No, no way, I'm not leaving, I won't leave." he said sincerely, meeting Peter's gaze directly from where he stood at the foot of the bed. And usually, he might have double checked whether Peter might want him to leave, but he needed to be done with the insecure bullshit too, because Peter had been bending over backwards to accept him and make him feel comfortable and to understand that he was wanted from the start. And Wade wasn't going to allow himself to second guess it anymore, "I was just gonna' go clean up the kitchen, and then all the blood." he gestured to the bedroom door, noticing that Peter hadn't yet relaxed and was still staring up at him, just shy of glaring, "I, uh, I know how to get the stains out," he tried to explain, "or at least mostly get it out, I have a lot of experience wit-"
"Leave the blood." Peter said stiffly, cutting him off, and Wade closed his mouth, "We'll deal with it tomorrow. Wade," and his voice was at least marginally less cold when Peter said his name, "I just want to sleep now, I'm tired." and that was that. Peter shifted, flattened his legs and laid down, curling onto his side as he pulled the blanket up over himself.
The way he'd said it was extremely final though, and with the use of 'we' regarding the following the day, and with the fact that he'd lied the two pillows out side by side on the double bed, it was quite obvious he didn't just mean himself when he talked about sleeping. He expected Wade to get into the bed and sleep too. And yeah, Wade could definitely do that. So he said,
"Uh, yeah, sure, tomorrow." nodding even though Peter wasn't looking at him. Then he glanced down at the bed and lifted a knee to get on the mattress, but Peter said,
"Could you get the light." tone much softer now, sleepy. Wade glanced at him, saw that he was bundled under the blanket like a small lovable lump.
He'd been so tired. Wade had kept him up so long.
Now Peter needed to sleep and he wasn't going to interfere with that.
"Course'." he responded, stepping back from the bed and walking a few steps to the switch for the overhead lights. After the room was cast into moderate darkness, the bathroom light still on, Wade felt less exposed. During the blip he'd gotten so used to spending a lot of time in the dark...
He walked back to the bed, to the right side, since Peter was sleeping on the left, and he got in, laid down on his back and he didn't bother to cover, he tended to run hot anyway. He laid stiffly for a minute before turning his head to look at Peter, who was still curled up, back facing him. He sounded like he was asleep already, his breathing really even and calm. Wade very briefly entertained the thought of spooning up behind him, of holding him, nuzzling into his hair...
But he didn't feel like he could, he didn't think he was allowed to do that. He'd been working up to earning the right to touch Peter so freely for weeks before, but he'd taken a hundred steps back after the last dumb stunt he'd pulled. So now he would wait for permission again, would work to earn it back.
Wade sighed, closed his eyes, but while he felt exhausted, he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep...but he also didn't want to get up, in case Peter woke up and found him not there. Also, he needed to sleep in order to heal faster, because it was what Peter wanted, and also, so he could look at least a little less hideous by morning.
In the end, clenching his eyes shut, Wade resigned himself to trying to sleep.
At some point he did fall asleep, but he was awake again not long after, morning light starting to filter into the room...