Peter was in trouble. Like so so much trouble. He was absolutely, positively gonna die tonight, either by bleeding out from the bullet wounds in his hip and shoulder, or at the hands of his ex-merc partner when Wade finds out that Peter is bleeding out from two gunshot wounds. So. His choices were to lay on this rooftop and die slowly, or call Wade, have a very loud argument, and then die anyway. Not great prospects.
Peter sighed deeply, kind of annoyed at this whole situation because really, he wasn’t even supposed to be here right now patrol was over, he and Wade had already split up for the night and he was going home. But of course, because he has a super secret identity, he couldn’t just swing straight home and lead anyone paying attention back to his apartment. So, he had started his nightly detour, swinging in a wide, complicated loop that would eventually lead him back to his building, when his spidey-sense alerted him to some shady dealings happening in a semi-abandoned building on his route. Three armed dudes were dragging a fourth dude (not armed, very injured, and sporting a burlap sack over his head) out of the trunk of their car and toward the back entrance of the building. Peter jumped in immediately, not wanting to let the men get into the building and have to fight them in a confined space. He had two of the men webbed to the wall before they even knew he was there, but the third was pretty quick on the uptake and Spidey had to yank the hostage out of the way of a spray of gunfire and take cover behind their car.
“Come on guys, if you needed a fourth for Bridge that badly, I’m sure there’s a spot on Craigslist for that.”
As soon as the bullets stopped, Spider-Man was moving, webbing the man’s gun away and dodging a sloppy punch. He caught the guy’s wrist and executed a textbook Judo throw, webbing the dude to the ground as soon as he hit. His spidey-sense blared right as the door to the building slammed open, several more armed men pouring out.
“Of course I see now that you have more than enough players, so we’ll just-“
Peter trailed of as he realized that there was no “we” anymore. The captive had long since run off, which was good because now Peter didn’t have to worry about him getting line of fire, but also bad because Peter had kind of wanted to ask him what was going on here. He leapt aside just in time to avoid a round of bullets and webbed the gun out of one man’s hand, swinging it around and conking him in the head with it. The man went down and another charged at him with a metal baton. Spidey ducked to avoid a blow to the head and noticed that the other men were trying to form a circle around him. Ridiculous.
“Are you guys seriously trying to box me in? You realize that I can just go up right? It’s me, Spider-Man, I thought the suit and the webs made that clear, but you must be new here.”
To prove his point, he launched up, had to twist midair to avoid a few more bullets, and landed on the man behind him. The dude honestly tried to pistol-whip him and Peter was starting to get annoyed. He knocked the guy unconscious and webbed him go the wall with his friends, but then baton dude was back and taking a swing and Peter caught it easily, only realized his mistake when he felt the shock of electricity burning through him. The pain was intense. The cattle prod or whatever it was didn’t have enough juice to take him down, but it was enough to distract him. The bullet burning into his hip was so much worse. Peter was still gripping the cattle prod, and he used his superior strength to turn it back on its owner. The man collapsed on the ground and Peter sprang out of the way of another round of gunfire. He heard a cry of pain from behind him and snapped his head around to see the second to last man fall, clutching his leg where it had been hit. Spidey flung a hasty glob of webbing at the last man standing and rushed to the injured man’s side as fast as he could and collapsed to his knees, his hip throbbing and bleeding freely. Panic was making his hands shake as he inspected the wound, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. The bullet hadn’t hit the femoral artery. Peter set to work using some of his webbing to bandage the wound as best he could. He was almost done when his spidey-sense screamed at him. He looked around wildly, but none of the criminals had escaped his webbing. He felt something press against his chest and realized that it was the barrel of a gun. The injured man had pulled a gun on him, was pressing it right against his heart. Panic overwhelmed him, and it was only instinct that cause his hand to shoot out, pushing the man’s arm away. The gun fired. White-hot pain tore through his shoulder, but not his heart. Peter’s hand tightened reflexively as the bullet tore through him and he heard a sick crack and the man on the ground howled in agony before passing out.
Peter kneeled on the ground, trying to catch his breath and not think about how close he just came to dying until he heard the distant sirens. Then he started climbing the wall. He didn’t have much choice really, his left arm was useless right now, which meant no swinging. And his right leg couldn’t take any weight, which meant no walking. Climbing the building with one arm and one leg was time consuming and he hissed through his clenched teeth every time the rough bricks scraped against his wounds, but he made it to the top before the police arrived and that’s all that matters.
So. Now. Peter lays on the roof of a semi-abandoned building outside of Queens staring at his phone and bleeding quite a bit. He’s kinda hoping that Wade will text him first. Wade often texts him after patrol about whatever he’s watching on tv that night and if its any good and how much he thinks Peter should come watch it with him. So Wade texting first would make this a lot easier. He’d make his usual invitation and then Peter could be like, sounds great Wade, I’d really love to come watch The Umbrella Academy with you, if you could just come pick me up first? Yeah I’m laying on a rooftop just outside of Queens. I might be bleeding out, btdubs. And then Wade will rush over and they will have a very loud and angry conversation because Peter has been basically lying to Wade. About his safety, which he’s pretty sure is something Wade will have a hard time forgiving.
Okay. Okay. This has to happen. This conversation was going to have to come up eventually and it seems like that means now. Peter flicked over to Wade’s contact information with trembling fingers, leaving blood smeared across his phone screen. He pressed the call button and took a deep, steadying breath. Wade answered by the second ring.
“Petey! Didn’t we just part ways like star-crossed lovers less than an hour and a half ago? Don’t tell me you missed me already? Actually, do tell me. Did you miss me already, Baby Boy?”’
Wade’s voice was so excited, and Peter hated to have to be the one to ruin that. If Wade ever speaks to him again after this, he vows to be the one to reach out first more often.
“Wade. I’m sorry, I really wish this was a social call.”
Peter didn’t even try to keep the pain out of his voice and he could almost hear Wade’s demeanor change.
“Spider-man. What’s wrong?”
That was a Deadpool voice. It was Deadpool addressing Spider-man, not Wade addressing Peter.
“I-I ran into some trouble..”
Wade’s voice was a growl and Peter could hear pounding footsteps and city noises in the background and knew that Wade had already left his apartment, was already on his way.
“A rooftop. Just out of Queens. I don’t-“
“I’ll find you. Are you safe for now?”
This was it. This is how it starts. Once Peter answers this question Wade will know. Or at least, he’ll suspect and Wade suspecting is almost the same as Wade Knowing because he is so much smarter than other people give him credit for. Peter’s in so much trouble. He sucked in a deep, painful breath and tried to swallow down the dread climbing up his throat.
“Its. Its all clear.” Peter croaked out.
Wade’s panting breath stopped and Peter had the sense of his whole body stilling except his running legs, because Wade might be shocked as hell, but he wouldn’t waste time being stunned when Peter so obviously needed him.
Peter’s kind of crying now. His hip and shoulder are on fire and he’s pretty sure his hand is burnt from holding the cattle prod and his nerves are shot and the roof is getting really cold and Wade is not talking. Peter isn’t a loud crier, never has been, but Wade must hear something because his pounding footsteps are pounding a lot faster.
Wade skids to a stop on the rooftop and Peter only has a second to look at him before he’s crouched down at his side, checking his injuries. He’s wearing his mask, of course, but other than that all he has on are an old, worn t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. His boots aren’t tied and his katanas are slung haphazardly across his back and Peter’s throat starts to close up at the evidence of how fast Wade left his apartment.
“Spidey, what happened.”
The question had no inflection and Peter could feel rage and confusion rolling of Wade in waves.
“Oh, you know, bad guys with guns. The usual.”
Peter went for flippant even though he knew he couldn’t pull it off. Still, he couldn’t tell Wade about the cattle prod and the injured man that had pressed a gun against his heart even as he tried to save his life. Not while those men were still down on the ground, being questioned by police and loaded into ambulances. Wade may have given up killing for money, but he was not above killing for Peter.
Wade was obviously not amused. His whole body was held tense with anger, but his hands were gentle when he picked Peter up.
“Your place or mine?”
Peter considered. He knew the answer, but voicing it was hard. He still hadn’t found the words to tell Wade that he would be perfectly content to never set foot in his gloomy little apartment ever again. That Wade’s place was the only place he felt happy anymore. Apparently, the few seconds of deliberation was too long for Wade, as he spun around and started back the way he came from.
“Nevermind. I am taking you home. I am patching you up. And then we are having a Talk.”
Peter sighs. Not able to fight the inevitable, he settles his head against Wade’s broad chest and lets his eyes drift closed.
“Okay Wade, take me home.”
Removing bullets is not painless. In fact, Its pretty damn excruciating. Peter clenches his teeth and tries to keep quiet as Wade’s face grows more pinched with every pained groan that escapes him. When the bullets are out and the wounds are clean and stitched, Wade hands Peter two very strong pain killers and turns towards the door. His body is still so tense. Like he hasn’t breathed since Peter gave the all clear and Peter wants to say something, anything, because Wade has kept up a steady stream of dialogue this whole time but he’s not talking to Peter.
Wade closes the door behind him harder than he normally would and knickknacks rattle on their shelves. Peter dry swallows both pills and forces himself to sleep.
When Peter wakes up Wade is there. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the bullets he had pulled out of Peter the night before. He looked like he was having some kind of internal argument, head tilting slightly and facial expressions flitting by quickly, none of them good. Peter was instantly glad that Wade wasn’t wearing his mask, that he hadn’t completely destroyed all the trust they’ve built. This could be salvaged. He cleared his throat, but Wade spoke first.
“So, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re still full of holes.”
“Yeah,” Peter squeaked. “I probably will be for a little while.”
Wade held up a bullet.
“Would these have come out on their own?”
“P-probably in a few days. I don’t really know.”
Wade exhaled long and slow and his body slumped with it, like that breath had been all that was holding him up.
“What the fuck Pete?” Wade whispered, pained.
“No. What the fuck Pete?” He grew much louder, launching off the bed and beginning to pace. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, memory’s pretty shot. Literally. My memory has been literally shot, like, a lot of times. But I’m preeety damn sure that on several occasions you’ve led me to believe that you had a top-notch healing factor.”
“When you got shot in your arm, it was all ‘oh, don’t worry Wade, it’ll heal on its own.’ And when Rhino fucking FLATTENED you with that car it was ‘just give me a minute.’ And-and. The time with the rebar that went through your stomach and you said it was fine! You what? Fucking crawled home and treated that shit on your own? You could have died!”
Wade’s voice was tight with emotion and this was the closest to tears that Peter had ever seen him without Torchwood on.
“I didn’t-“ Peter started, but Wade’s fierce glare cut him off. “I mean, I do have a healing factor, Wade. I didn’t lie about that. I just maybe exaggerated how good it is?”
Wade snorted, and Peter backtracked. He needed him to understand. The guilt weighed so heavy in his gut and he needed him to understand.
“Okay, I definitely exaggerated. But like, this is new, yeah? Being partners?”
Wade nodded. “Six months last week.” He said softly, but proudly, Peter took his hand and squeezed. Wade allowed it, but his hand stayed limp in Peter’s. He was waiting.
“But I’ve been doing this by myself for so long.” Peter sucked in a breath. “I’ve been Spider-man by myself for ten years, been taking care of myself for ten years, and if this had happened seven months ago I would have been crawling myself home to cry in my bathtub. I have you now, but I’m just getting used to having you, okay? And- and The first time I got injured, like, really injured while we were together you were. Um. You were kind of freaking out? And I wanted to reassure you? So I said I’d be fine because of my healing factor, which was true, and you were so relieved. So. I let you make some assumptions about my capabilities that I shouldn’t of.”
He glanced up at Wade, nervous and hopeful. Wade was still frowning, but had lost some of the pinched unhappiness around his eyes. He still wasn’t holding Peter’s hand.
“So then, when I got shot, and I thought, I had to call you. It was kinda the first time that I realized I could call you. That I have a person to call now, when I’m in trouble. I’ve never had that before. And you-you’re like, the best person to call anyway about anything. But this? I knew as soon as you answered that I didn’t have to worry about anything and that’s just. That’s so important. Wade, I haven’t not had to worry about anything for ten fucking years.”
Wade finally squeezed his hand back. He still had a frown on his face, but it was smaller now, and his eyes were tender, like he was maybe thinking about forgiving Peter even though he still thought he was an idiot. Wade let go of his hand to gently lift Peter into his arms, careful of his injuries, and started walking them out of the bedroom. Peter sighed in relief because that meant that the argument was over for now and that was great. Arguing with Wade was pretty much the worst thing ever.
“Okay. I’m still pissed at you, but okay. I know what its like to live your life with no one to rely on and I gotta say, it fucking sucks. 0/10. Do not recommend. But get over that because we’re partners now and forever, so you are going to call me every fucking time you need help.”
The last part was growled out and he gave Peter a hard look. Peter nodded quickly, knowing that he literally didn’t have a leg to stand on in this, and Wade seemed satisfied with that.
“Good. Now, I’m going to take you to the bathroom. Promise I won’t peek. Then, we gotta change your dressings. And after that we are eating pancakes and watching just the worst show I can find on TV, and you are gonna tell me the limits of your healing factor so that I don’t just wave you on home when you’ve been fucking impaled again. Jesus Christ. Sound good?”
And it was.