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The Peppermint Candy Gun Incident

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Tony calls it team bonding night at the Tower, but it’s really just a superpowered Christmas party. It’s the night that every super in the state of New York and whoever else feels the need to come visit hangs out for one night under the same roof. It’s not Peter’s favorite day. He’d rather be sitting on his brand-new couch with the biggest bowl of popcorn and having a Christmas movie marathon, but Tony would be dragging him here if he refused to come. And Peter had no desire to be carried into the Tower over Iron Man’s shoulder like some kind of sick Santa parody with the whole of New York laughing at him.

So here he is, standing between tables of food, loading his too small plate up with as many appetizers as he can, and stuffing the ones that don’t fit straight into his mouth. So what if Squirrel Girl and Ms. Marvel keep giving him wide eyed looks amongst the trays of cheese, crackers, vegetables, and dips? He’s hungry, alright? He’s always hungry.

Carefully, he balances one last cookie on the top of his tower of snacks before searching the crowded room for his mate. Blinding, colorful lights are strung around the celling and balcony, accompanied by too many Santa and snowmen decorations. He has counted at least five different Christmas trees just on this floor. Though he can’t really say anything about it. His apartment looks like a glitter bomb went off in it… several glitter bombs. Peter has to squint as all the lights make his sensitive eyes burn. He catches sight of the familiar red and black clad man, but before he even takes one step, his hair stands on end, and a snotty voice speaks up from behind him.

“The hoodie isn’t fooling anyone, Webs. Don’t need to see the bump when you smell like that.”

Peter turns, the eyes of his mask narrowed into slits. His hands tighten dangerously on the fragile plate. The hoodie is one of Wade’s, designed to look like his Deadpool suit. On Peter, it reaches almost to his knees. The sleeves need to be rolled so they won’t drop down over his hands, and the neck of it falls down over his left shoulder. It’s loose on Wade’s wide frame. Peter drowns in it.

“I’m not trying to hide it, Nova.” Peter says, his voice a growl.

Him and Sam have never really gotten along. They don’t see much of each other now, what with Sam spending most of his time somewhere in space, and Peter staying as safe as he can on Earth in New York. Peter doesn’t hate him per say. It’s just that no one gets on his nerves more. Not even Tony when he used to lecture him about being with Wade.

Sam crosses his arms across his chest. “Could’ve fooled me.” A nasty smirk pulls at his mouth, and his eyes sweep Peter up and down. “Where’s that mate of yours anyway? Not surprising if he wasn’t allowed to come. Him being an insane mercenary and all. He probably tried to kill everyone in this room at least twice. Am I right?”

Peter has been having problems with controlling his emotions for the past three months, and, right now, his temper sky rockets. He thrusts his loaded plate onto the crowded table next to him, because he’s starving and intends to eat every last crumb on there. He can already feel eyes on him. Fellow party goers have stopped what they were doing to watch. His scent is stronger with the pregnancy and the anger lining his regular sweet smell must be hard to ignore, but Peter pays them no mind. His hand flips out, shooting a web right at Sam’s still rapidly moving mouth. Not a moment later, his spidey sense flares up again, making him quickly hop to the side.

Peter’s eyes land on the incoming projectile, but before he can do anything about it, it hits its mark. With a screech, Sam doubles over, hands clutching his junk. The watching heroes move out of the way as Deadpool makes his way toward his angry mate. He stops directly behind Sam, his large frame towering over the other alpha. Appreciation fills Peters chest. Not just at Wade’s interference, but at his strong, intimidating pose. God, he can’t wait to get home. Peter catches a glimpse of the strange looking gun Wade holds before he focuses back on the now frozen Nova.

Anger still courses through him, and he bends down until he’s eye level with the space hero. Peter channels his mate when he growls, “I am wearing this hoodie because it smells like Wade, and I love smelling like my alpha. Not to mention that I’m wearing a spandex suit when it’s fucking negative ten out. Now why don’t you skedaddle before my insane mercenary mate shoves his gun where the sun don’t shine.”

Sam glowers at him, but slowly stands from his bend over position and slinks away, face as red as Peter’s suit. No matter what Sam says about Wade, he would never willingly start something with Deadpool.

“That was some threat, baby boy.” Wade, waving his colorful gun in the air, moves closer to Peter. “Would have hated to get it dirty. I just got it a few days ago. But you know I would have done it for you.”

“Is that a peppermint candy gun?” Peter asks, incredulous. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the sight of the red and white stripped gun is enough to do just that.

The smile on Wade’s face is visible even through his mask. “Yep!”


“It’s festive!” Peter grabs Wade’s wrist and tugs his arm lower so he can see the gun. “Has perfect aim!” he exclaims, proudly. “I almost got the candy cane one, but candy canes aren’t very aerodynamic what with the hook part. And they’d probably snap in half before they even left the barrel. Not to mention they’d jam like crazy.”

Peter is only half listening to Wade’s spiel. He lifts the gun out of his mate’s large hands and turns in every which way. It looks like it could be a toy, but in his grasp, it feels too heavy, too real. “But where did you—”


His hands and feet are sticking to the ceiling before he really knows what happened. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Between panicked whines, Peter calls for his mate. Wade can help. He can protect him and their baby.

The overpowering smell of Wade invades Peter’s nose. Taking deep breaths of it, Peter relaxes enough to let himself drop to the floor as close to his mate as he can without landing on top of him. His feet bounce slightly with the landing, and his hands wrap around his small, prominent baby bump. Strong, muscled arms wind around him, and his face is pressed into a musky smelling neck. Wade.

“Deep breaths, Petey. Everything’s okay.”

“What’s going on?” It’s Bucky. Peter knows it by his voice, but his nose is still shoved against that point in Wade’s neck not allowing him to smell the other omega. And even though Peter likes Bucky, what with him being a friend to not only himself but to Wade as well, it’s probably a good thing right now. His body still shakes with a slight panic. His mind is still foggy and a headache builds behind his eyes.

Peter whines again, and wraps his arms tighter around himself. He wants to hold on to Wade, to press his alpha closer, but his arms refuse to leave his middle.

Wade’s stern voice snaps Peter out of his anxious thoughts. “Peter,” he says right next to the omega’s ear. “You shot a peppermint candy at the floor.” He presses mask covered lips to Peter’s jaw. “Didn’t even leave a dent.” Wade rubs up and down Peter’s sides while the omega takes deep, steading breathes and lets that information sink in. He peaks over Wade’s shoulder, seeing the shattered remains of the red and white candy.

“A candy gun?” Bucky speaks up again. “Where did you get that?” Peter spins around in Wade’s arms to his back is tucked into his alpha’s warm chest. Bucky gives him a little smile which Peter tries to return. Wade pulls the gun out from seemingly nowhere and tosses it to Bucky who begins inspecting it from all angles, even partially taking it apart. Peter can’t help but to flinch back a little. He hates guns, but usually he’s not like this around them. He’s used to guns. Spiderman fights criminals with guns almost every day. He can dodge bullets as easy as breathing. Hell, he lives with a gun fanatic. There must be at least three guns in every room in their apartment. More than that, there’s no one he trusts more than Wade Wilson, gun or no gun.

The thing is that he has never shot a gun before, and even if it’s only a novelty one, he’s still shook.

Peter feels Wade shrug at Bucky’s question. His chin rubs against the top of Peter’s head. “The internet is a magical place.”

Out of the corner of his eye Peter spots his plate. With laser focus, he quickly detangles himself from Wade to snatch it up. Once firmly back in the merc’s arms, he starts munching on the snacks. Hands rub under his borrowed sweatshirt and he finally lets himself relax again.

“It’s not powerful enough to do any serious damage but look at it!” Wade exclaims. “It’s so Christmasy I just couldn’t pass it up.”

Bucky hums, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “You could make a few adjustments-”

“Bucky!” The sound of Steve’s yell makes all three men snap to attention as well as most of the people in the room. “Nat and Clint are stealing the kids again!”


Fellow heroes jump out of the way as Bucky sprints towards the sound of squeals and excited laughter.

“No one’s ever going to steal our kid, Petey,” Wade says, wrapping his arms securely around the omega’s middle.

Peter chuckles, a handful of crackers halfway to his mouth, and leans his head back to look up at him. “Not even Aunt May?”

The mask scrunches where Wade’s hairless eye brows are located. A few seconds pass where Peter takes the opportunity to shove the crackers into his mouth. Finally Wade sighs. “Maybe Aunt May can.”