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“Hey, uh. Can you come pick me up?”
“Spidey?”
Hearing Wade's voice had never been more relieving.
“Yeah,” he whispered back in confirmation.
Wade breathed for a moment, probably in disbelief. Peter had never used his personal phone to call the mercenary before, but he was in a complicated situation, and desperate times… Well, you know what they say.
The worst part was, Spider-Man hadn't even told Deadpool his name was Peter Parker yet, so for him to call the man asking to be picked up in his civvies, something had to be going on.
He could only be glad Wade wasn't doubting or asking for proof of who he was, given the unknown number he was calling from, but there was once a time the mercenary said, quite loudly and overly confident, “Baby boy, I'd recognize you with my eyes closed, ears cut off and a stuffy nose. I have every detail I know about you engraved into my skull.”
And, yeah, he'd been creeped out when he heard it, laughed it off as a joke, but he was counting on it to be true right now. Wade didn't make a habit of lying to him, so Peter trusted him.
“What's going on? Are you okay? Where are you? Do I need to bring in the big guns?”
Now to the embarrassing part: Peter wasn't hurt. Well, technically not physically hurt, not yet at least. Peter was on a date. And it was going fucking terribly.
He was currently hiding in the bathroom of a fancy, stupid restaurant he hadn't picked, obviously, given he was not rich, and the scarily off-putting man he'd just met and absolutely hated was waiting for him back at their table.
MJ had been so proud of herself when she told him what she'd done. A blind date, Pete, because you can't close yourself off forever! 'It'll be nice,' she said. 'I worked with him a few times for magazine covers, and he's charming enough. Plus, he's rich!'
Yeah, so, what a fucking joke. Not that Peter blamed her, couldn't even if he tried. Of course she didn't know the man was a fucking dick, nor that Peter Parker had been in love with his best friend for the past year, so of course he wasn't going out on dates.
As soon as he walked into the restaurant, though, his spider-sense had gone off the rails. He felt the guy's (Peter could honestly not remember his name) stare from the front door, and all of his bad intentions as the cherry on top. All he could think of throughout the whole date, as he ate and made small talk, pretended to listen and nod at the right times, was that he was in danger.
He'd been there for two hours now. They were done with their meals and the man offered to pay— thank god for that—, so Peter excused himself to the bathroom. The place was crowded, and he didn't want to make a scene, especially when he wasn't sure what the man was capable of. His spider-sense wasn't often very specific about what kind of danger he was in, unfortunately.
As to why Peter had run off, though, and not only called a cab home: the man had insisted on driving him. Now, he was far from comfortable letting him know his address, miles away from okay with getting in a car with him, much less trusting he'd actually make it home that night.
The most off-putting part was that the guy wasn't even fucking rude. He was charming, as MJ said, and if it wasn't for his abilities, Peter would've probably happily agreed to go home with him after dinner. Wasn't that just chilling?
He'd made easy small talk, asked about Peter's work and research, and also fucking listened when he rambled about his nerd-ass field of scientific studies. He was conventionally attractive and friendly. Which probably meant he was a psychopathic serial killer.
Okay, that was an exaggeration… But was it, really? God, he was staring to grow really paranoid wondering why the hell he felt so unsafe around that man.
He couldn't stop shivering now, had at least been able to play it off as cold tingles through the date, but his anxiety was through the roof the whole time.
“Webs? You're starting to really worry me, and trust me, I will track this phone call and come get you in a blazing tank.”
Fuck, he forgot he'd called Wade.
“I'm not— not hurt, really… Actually, y'know what, calling you was fucking stupid, I'm sorry to worry you, Wade, everything's okay— I can handle this, I don't know why— Jesus…”
How long had it been since he came into the bathroom? The man was likely to start worrying if he was gone too long, grow suspicious, at the very least. He didn't need a reason to antagonize him, so Peter should really get going and deal with this situation before—
“Spider-Man, if you don't tell me where you are right fucking now I will find you myself. I just know this is your personal phone number, and I wanted to wait until you told me your cute little name yourself, but I'm a nasty motherfucker—”
“Jesus, okay!” He whisper-yelled, exasperated. Why did he have to fall for this idiot?
After taking a deep breath and rubbing his nose bridge, Peter explained, “Don't you dare laugh at me right now, but I'm on a date.”
No answer.
Not even breathing over the line, just pure silence.
So he continued, “I'm in my civvies, and the restaurant is crowded. My spider-sense has been going off since I got here, but I can't figure out how much shit I'm into right now. He insisted on driving me now that we're done, but—”
“You're worried he'll try something,” Wade completed, finally adding his take.
“I know he will, Wade,” he laughed awkwardly, a little out of breath. “I know I'm fucking Spider-Man, I can handle this on my own as soon as we're out of here, I just thought—”
What was he thinking, actually? He'd never shied away from dangerous situations before, not as Spider-Man, not as Peter. He was fucking uncomfortable, though. He kept watching the man's hands, scared he'd try to what, roofie him? Peter couldn't even get drunk properly, for fuck's sake, he'd be fine, there'd been no reason to call Deadpool at all.
“Just 'cause you can, doesn't mean you should, baby boy! Now, you tell me where you are, and I'll be there in a second, just you hold on for me.”
Or maybe that's why he called Wade in the first place.
His cheery, upbeat tone was back to his voice, and the effect it had on Peter was immediate. It was unbelievable how safe he felt hearing a deadly, certified insane mercenary's voice.
Fuck, he loved Wade.
Peter told him the address in hushed whispers, “I'll try to stall him until you get here. Oh, and I'm wearing—”
“Nope!” Wade interrupted him. “Eyes closed, remember, Spidey? I promise I'll know it's you as soon as I look at you. Now just go back in there and be pretty until Daddypool arrives.”
Snorting, he shivered for a second, his spider-sense warning him once again of the danger nearby. “Thank you, Wade. Really. You didn't need to do this.”
“Anything for you, baby boy,” he replied. “Anything for you.”
Before he could even say anything back, the other man hung up, leaving Peter staring at the sparkling, deeply clean ceiling of a fine restaurant he should've never stepped his feet into.
Well, time to go back and face the tides. Or rather, face the potential serial killer he was set up on a date with.
Peter tried.
Really, he did all he could think of, which wasn't much when it came to stalling a dinner that had already ended. Peter had struck up conversation with the waitress, of all people, when she came to give back his date's card.
She'd been really polite, thank god, and he hoped she could see his discomfort, rather than believe he was one of those annoying people who liked to bother service workers with awkward small talk when they had work to do.
Regardless, he'd eventually run out of things to say, tipped her whatever he had left in his wallet and watched as she walked away. In his head, he was praying for Wade to show up soon, while letting his date lead them outside.
The man hadn't even gotten mad when he was talking to the waitress. He was clearly not in a hurry, patient and confident in himself, which only made Peter worry more about his own safety.
When he was about to give up waiting for Wade and get in the car, which a worker had just driven back from the parking lot, an angel from heaven appeared.
“Hey, there you are! You ready to go? May's waiting for us, man, we're already late!”
A tall, built, blond man posed himself in front of them, blocking their view to the car. He had Wade's voice, and his muscles were very familiar… Oh, wait—
“Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but who are you?” Peter's date rudely asked, as if he wasn't face to face with the man of his life. Not that either of them knew that.
Peter didn't stop staring at Wade, though, because he recognized those eyes, but everything else was just wrong. There were no scars, his skin was smooth, and he had a stubble beard. Who the fuck was this? Peter had met Wade outside the suit, had seen his face, hung out with him long enough to be able to draw his features on a piece of paper, even though he was a terrible artist.
Wade kept staring back just as fiercely. It made Peter realize the mercenary did recognize him without even a description, despite that he was the most average looking male in the area. Had he ever caught a glimpse of his brown hair? Was it his build, the way he moved, was he that clearly anxious?
“Wasn't talking to you, asshat, I'm just here to take my friend to the movie night we have with his Aunt, yeah?”
Spider-Man was a big chatterbox. Peter couldn't manage to stop talking if it'd save his life, honestly, so talking about Aunt May was inevitable when he'd been hanging out with Deadpool for years now. She was all the family he had left, can anyone blame him for mentioning her from time to time?
Now, Peter had not planned a movie night with Aunt May today, but it was something they did every month, and he wasn't fucking stupid. He had thankfully mentioned living with his Aunt for most of his life during the night, so this wouldn't be too bad.
Playing the part, he grabbed his phone from his pocket swiftly, pretending to look at the time and date on his phone screen with a frown.
“Oh my god, I completely forgot, I can't believe I— Jesus, I'm so sorry,” he said, turning back to the man who kept setting his spider-sense off. “Thank you so much for offering a ride, but Wade and I are already super late— I'm really sorry—”
For the first time in the night, the man's eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He smiled politely, clenching and releasing one of his fists, as if anyone wouldn't notice. “It's okay, you go have fun with your family. I had a great time, Peter, and I'd love to go out again sometime.”
Nodding, he tried his best to keep a straight face as he said, “Yeah, sure! Just tell me your number and I'll text you later.”
He wouldn't. Peter would not be texting him later, and in fact would be blocking his number in case he ever came to get his. Still, he punched in the guy's number on his phone as he quickly as he could, hoping to be away from him as soon as possible.
“We'll be going, then, bu-bye!” Wade said when he was done, not even waiting for Peter to say anything else before grabbing his arm and dragging them away.
Turning around to face away from the worst date of his life, Peter held onto the merc's arm as they walked away, letting relief wash over his anxiety. Shit, MJ owed him so fucking much for having to live through that.
When they were far enough he was sure the man couldn't hear them, he said, “Oh my god, that was so awful! I'm never agreeing to a blind date ever again, MJ has the worst taste when it comes to men. I mean, I haven't been on a date for years, but she doesn't know I'm—”
Stupid running mouth! He's not supposed to tell Wade he's head over heels in love with him yet, he's waiting until he's 100% completely sure his feelings are reciprocated.
“You're what?”
Suddenly aware of his surroundings again, Peter realizes they're almost at one of Wade's apartments. He hadn't noticed he'd been so close before, and once he wonders why it took so long for the mercenary to show up, he remembers one of the first questions he had when he arrived.
“Wait a minute, why do you look like that?” he asks, hoping Wade would forget what he was about to say.
“Like what, baby boy, a flaming hot supermodel? Yeah, this is why it took me a minute to get to you, actually! I'd totally forgotten where I'd put my image inducer since the last time I used it. I'd never keep you waiting if it wasn't for the fucking mess I keep around the place, pinky promise!”
Once they were finally inside, and Peter could look Wade in the eyes again, he asked, “Can you turn it off?”
It was weirdly off-putting, talking and looking at the merc, knowing it was him, but seeing someone else instead.
“You sure, Webs? I'm not fucking repulsing to look at when I'm like this, at least.”
“C'mon, DP, I wanna look at you.”
The device came off, and Wade finally looked like himself again. A smile grew on Peter's face slowly, and he tried hard not to look like a lovesick teenager staring at his first crush. “There you are.”
A second passed in silence, before Wade covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly, spinning around and dropping on his couch.
“Jesus fucking Christ, baby boy, you look so fucking good, I bet you don't even realize how delicious it feels to finally see your smile reach your eyes, goddammit!” Peter laughed, sitting on the floor in front of the merc. “Fuuck, it was stupid hard to hold back from grabbing you in front of everyone at that stupid restaurant as soon as I realized it was you. It's so unfair, you're crazy cute!”
Snorting, he shoved Wade further into the couch. “I look like every other white man out there, Wade, don't be dramatic.”
“P-e-r-f-e-c-t!” he sing-sung, ignoring what Peter just said.
“Yeah, well, my name's also Peter, so that goes to show how normal I am outside the mask,” he finally admitted, and it felt so invigorating, he swore there were a thousand butterflies inside his stomach. Wade stopped babbling, frozen, and looked back at him in shock. “It's Peter Parker, actually.”
“Peter Parker,” he repeated, getting up and grabbing Peter's shoulders, shaking him. “Petey, Pete, baby boy— wait, you used to take pictures of yourself for the Bugle?!”
Unable to hold it back, he snorted, then started laughing, until he couldn't stop, full on cackling— of course Wade would recognize his name, and of course that's what he would know him as.
“Yeah,” he admitted, trying to find his breath. “That was me.”
“Oh my god, why the fuck would you do that to yourself, sweet cheeks? Those guys sucked!”
Peter nodded, he'd been so glad when he was able to quit that job and give JJJ the finger. MJ took him and Harry for a night out as celebration, even, because being able to support himself with work he actually enjoyed was liberating.
“I was broke, Wade, what else was I supposed to do?!”
“I would've paid for your bills in a heartbeat if you'd asked, Petey-pie,” Wade said. He said it so easily, so honestly, as if it'd be the easiest decision in the world.
Peter believed him. He knew he would. Wade was so good for him.
Fuck.
“I know you would,” he admitted quietly. At that moment, he made his decision.
Fuck waiting.
“Wade, can I ask you to do one more thing for me today?”
The mercenary smiled, all of his teeth for show. “Baby, you can ask me anything you want, I—”
If he let Wade start talking, make a joke out of this, say anything else that'd make him flustered, he'd back out. He needed to say it.
Peter held the man's hand softly, interrupting his incoming monologue, and finally fucking asked, “Will you kiss me?”
He was so fucking nervous. Sometimes, he was so sure Wade liked him back he felt stupid for ever wondering. The man flirted, made endless innuendos, joked about it, treated Peter like a fucking princess. Still, asking for a kiss— shit, why'd he ask for a kiss? Maybe he should've admitted to being in love with him first…
Well, Peter was always doing things in the wrong order. This was fine. It was getting a little awkward and dangerous, though, because Wade was fucking quiet again, just staring at him, so he tried saying, “Please?”
That did it.
The merc surged forward so quickly that he almost backed off, stunned by how fiercely Wade came onto him. His hands held Peter's face in place, and their mouths connected rather forcefully, making him groan in surprise. The sound only seemed to get the other man more excited, though, and he was grabbed off the ground by his hips, which, fucking hot, onto the couch in front of him.
Wade kissed him like he was hungry and about to eat Peter alive. Not in the messy, inexperienced teenage way, though, no, quite the opposite. He kissed him like he was fucking him. And, shit, Peter would let him, honest to god, but he needed to let him know this was serious, needed to get his feelings off his chest, so before Wade could shove his tongue inside his mouth, he gently pushed him away by his stupidly muscular chest.
“Hey,” he said, unintelligently. Listen, he was turned on and trying to stay on focus here. Wade wasn't making it easy.
“Hey,” the merc said back, a huge lopsided smirk on his face.
Peter was tempted to kiss it away, but forced himself to look back into his eyes and not let his own wander. “I'm kind of terribly in love with you,” he admitted. “Have been, actually. For like over a year now.”
Wade's eyes widened for a moment, before softening again. He smiled widely, and just like he'd said earlier, Peter watched as it reached his eyes. Shit, he was so fucking gay.
It made him feel even more fulfilled when he realized the mercenary didn't doubt him. He was so fucking insecure sometimes it hurt to watch, and he always made sure he was reassuring and honest with the man. It made him feel good to know Wade just knew he wouldn't fucking lie about this.
Strengthening the hold on Peter's hand, Wade said, “Well, I'll have you know I've been in love with my buddy, super awesome, lovely superhero Spider-Man for years now, so you'll have to get in touch with him first. He was here first, so you gotta respect them rules!”
“Oh really?” Peter chuckled.
Wade nodded seriously. “For realsies. We kinda go waay back, and, yeah, I'll admit you're pretty good-looking yourself, but nothing, and I mean, nothing tops that yummy bubble butt of his—”
Peter interrupted him again, this time not asking first, connecting their lips with a smile as he climbed into the merc's lap. Yeah, he was such an idiot for ever thinking Deadpool didn't like him back.
And, well, he probably couldn't even get mad at MJ anymore for the terrible date she picked for him. It took a lot of bad choices, but he got the best outcome possible.
They'd be fine.
He hated being cheesy, but he was in love with his best friend, and he was fucking happy. As long as he got to keep watching Wade's smiles reach his eyes, and interrupt his babbles with soft kisses, he'd be fine.
God bless MJ's terrible ideas.