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There’s something about being woken prematurely at the crack of dawn that leaves a sense of bitter resentment in Peter’s mouth. He settles on equating it with morning breath. The most unsatisfying of morning breaths, because this particular morning Peter was supposed to be sleeping in. And he would have been, if not for the eager attempts of one Wade Wilson to rouse him before the sun has even graced the sky.
“Mhh … stop it, Wade … ” he mumbles into his pillow.
“But Petey!” Wade whines, so high pitched it makes Peter’s skin crawl. “This is our only day off together!”
“Exactly. And I would seriously appreciate to spend my day off sleeping in.”
He settles deeper into his blankets, praying to all the known deities that Wade will for once listen to him. Silence overtakes the room, and Peter releases the breath he’s been holding, allowing the tension to ease out of his muscles. He relaxes, drifting back to sleep.
Suddenly Peter’s flipped over, the breath effectively knocked out of him, and Wade plops himself atop his stomach, looking down at Peter with an annoyingly pitiful expression.
“Goddammit, Wade!”
“Come on, Pete, when do I ever get to spend time with you anymore?”
“We see each other every night, now get off me!”
He shoves Wade off, but as soon as Peter turns over, Wade is pressed rigidly against his back, clinging tighter to him than web fluid. He’s about to scold him again, but there’s a slight tremor in Wade’s arms that stops him in his tracks.
“I just wanted to make the day off count,” Wade says. His voice is so small, so fragile, that it hurts Peter to hear him with such a defensive tone.
It’s true, they do see each other every night when they’re not away on missions or conferences – they live together for crying out loud – but it all seems so … lackluster. Peter has barely enough energy to maintain a conversation, let alone anything else, after crawling into bed.
And Peter knows the extra hours he’s been putting in at the lab lately have been taking a toll on Wade.
If anything, Wade has been beyond incredibly respectful to Peter’s schedule. He still teases Peter on a regular basis; that’s something that will never change. But he backs off whenever Peter brings out his ‘absolutely no nonsense or else’ tone. And for that, Peter is eternally grateful.
He turns over in Wade’s arms, pulling him closer, and presses his face against Wade’s neck. “You’re right, baby, I’m sorry.”
Wade’s hold on him tightens, and he breathes Peter in. And they lay like that, uncertain and uncaring at how much time passes within that moment. It doesn’t really matter. They lay together in quiet bliss, and for the first time in months, Peter feels unbelievably content.
That is, until Wade’s hand ventures between his legs.
“Wade … ” Peter growls.
“What? Gotta make sure you didn’t fall asleep on me, baby boy.” He tightens his fingers around Peter’s dick, sending a jolt of electricity up his spine.
“Mmhn, definitely awake now,” he moans, breath hitching with the way Wade strokes his hand around him.
Wade smirks, turning them over so that Peter is on his back. He brings his mouth to the indent between Peter’s collarbones, sucking gently, making Peter shiver and arch when he starts to skim his teeth meticulously across Peter’s skin.
Wade ventures down his body, all teeth and tongue. Every motion, every contact, brings Peter closer to becoming hard, but he can’t quite seem to manage it. Wade, who has always in one sense or another been in tune with Peter’s needs, realises this as well. He pads his tongue roughly over one of Peter’s nipples, the hand between his legs stroking him faster. Peter arches into his touch, body responding to both sensations.
He wants this, god he wants this.
But he’s still only half-hard. And as much as he feels awake at this point, Peter knows he needs to first make up for all the lack of sleep he’s accumulated over the weeks.
“Wade -” he breathes, momentarily losing focus of his words when Wade twists his hand just so. Peter bucks into Wade’s grip, bucks against the rough texture of his hand, body begging for the friction it offers.
“I’m doing the best I can, Pete,” he grunts, stroking harder.
“Wade – ah! – wait, just wait – mhmf . . ! – please!”
Peter latches his hand onto Wade’s, using the limited strength he can muster to pull it away. He laces their fingers, thumb stroking reassuringly across Wade’s hand.
“I’ll get you off, Petey, I promise!”
Peter chuckles. “No, that’s not it.” He reaches up to Wade, smoothing out the crease in his forehead that’s formed over his confused expression. “I’m just really tired, is all.”
Wade looks at him, head tilting to the side. He frowns, glancing away. Then he turns back to Peter, face split into a wicked grin. “Oh, I get it,” he says, winking. “Little Petey needs a tougher wake up call!”
“No!” Peter shouts.
The volume of his own voice makes him cringe. It does worse to Wade, who shrinks away, looking completely lost. He pulls away from Peter, drawing his knees close to his chin. His arms come to rest around his legs, and he looks away.
Peter trails a hand gently across his back. “Wade,” he starts.
“No, I get it. It’s cool. You need your beauty rest. Shoulda thought this through before waking you up for no reason.”
Well, Peter thinks. He could have approached this whole thing with much greater tact, that’s for sure. Wade was never one to accept rejection without pinpointing some sort of blame on himself.
“Hey,” he says, sitting up and leaning into his side. “I never said Ididn’t want to, okay? I just need a few more hours sleep.” He presses a kiss to Wade’s shoulder, soft and lingering.
Wade grunts, turning his head away.
“Come on, babe,” Peter coaxes. He places a trail of kisses along the back of Wade’s neck. “I’ll let you be little spoon,” he murmurs quietly into Wade’s ear.
Wade seems to deliberate this for a moment, a very long and exaggerated moment. Eventually, he concedes, tugging Peter down along with him. Wade scoots back as close as he can, practically fusing their bodies together. Peter does his best to restrain a laugh, throwing an arm over Wade’s frame. Wade grabs his hand, holding onto it with fixed determination. If not for his super strength, Peter would have definitely lost circulation in his hand.
It’s not as awkward as it seems, being the bigger spoon to a larger body. Especially not when Wade practically purrs from the soft kisses Peter leaves along his neck and shoulders every now and again. Otherwise, Wade’s completely unresponsive. He may be sulking, but Peter’s not going to ruin Wade’s eager anticipation for a day of intimate romance. He was planning on giving Wade a day off to remember.
“Happy vacation, Wade,” Peter mumbles into his skin.
Wade doesn’t say anything, but the little squeeze he gives to Peter’s hand is indication enough that he’s okay.
And that’s all that Peter really needs to know.