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Peter’s not sure why he’s thinking about it, on a lazy Sunday no less. He’s got his face pressed into Wade’s neck, both of them just in their underwear with the windows wide open, sprawled across their bed. It’s the most calm Peter has had in weeks, with a thesis to write and a city to protect and Aunt May needing help around the old house. There’s something so surreal about having Wade’s warm, scarred skin under his hands, the bulk of him a sure thing that Peter never has to question.
Wade’s hand moves, dragging fingertips up over Peter’s bare spine, shoulder blade, until the skin breaks out in a shiver of goosebumps.
Peter opens his eyes.
“You alright, baby boy?” Wade says, the sound of it rumbling under Peter’s ear. He lifts his head, resting his chin on Wade’s chest so he can look up at him through his lashes.
“Nothing, I… I just thought of something. And I realized I’ve never told you this before,” Peter says.
Wade’s eyes widen, big and blue and beautiful. “A secret, Petey?”
Peter snorts delicately. “Something like that. You know how I have a spider sense?” he says softly, trailing his fingers along Wade’s chest. There’s a specific tangle of scars over one pec that hasn’t changed in two months—Peter thinks this is a small blessing, that Wade has remained so intact for so long.
Wade hums. His hand slides over the smooth plane of Peter’s shoulder blade. “Yeah, your ‘spidey sense is tingling’. I’ve heard the phrase,” he laughs.
“Yeah, it is a tingle. Like chills,” Peter says. He can still remember the first time he felt it coming, that precognition to danger that was fused into his DNA by the spider bite. MJ slipped in the cafeteria, and Peter caught her. He saw the fall before she was even stepping in the puddle, and he would continue to see threats before they happened for years after that. When guns were drawn, before someone near him could step off a curb, if a car door was going to open in front of his bike; anywhere danger lurked.
“But it’s more than that, I think,” Peter continues. He sits up a bit, folding his arms over Wade’s chest, Wade easily pulling Peter by his hips to lie more fully on top of him. The way they fit together, puzzle pieces, magnets, perfect, almost has Peter forgetting his train of thought.
“Enlighten me, Professor,” Wade purrs.
“So, I mean, it’s like an advanced sense of danger. Like, a premonition-depth to understanding threats. It’s part of my spider genetics.”
“Fucking cool,” Wade says, the delight in his eyes stirring up the warmth in Peter’s chest.
“Yeah, really comes in handy in my line of work,” Peter laughs quietly. “I can tell when someone’s gonna fall, or when someone pulls a knife on me. If a car behind me doesn’t realize the light turned red, or something is about to bust through the wall. It’s just an alert system, for threats. Big or small, whether or not they’re directed at me.” Peter looks up at Wade, scooting just a tiny bit closer. “And I feel it. All over my skin, like a tingle. It’s impossible to ignore—I guess that’s kinda the point.”
“Oh, that sounds cool,” Wade says thoughtfully.
Peter nods. He brushes his knuckles up over Wade’s cheek before turning his palm over, cupping the Merc’s jaw in his hand. “You don’t trigger it. You never have—ever.”
Wade’s head tilts into the touch, his lips parting as he takes the words in. “I… You mean,” he mumbles. His hands flex on Peter’s sides, folding over him more securely before Wade clears his throat. “What does that have to do with—never?”
“That day we met, when you snuck up on me—no tingle. No spider sense alerting me to potential danger. Even though you were six-foot-six and covered in guns and knives and you popped out on me on a fire escape.”
“I thought it was romantic,” Wade whispers.
“And every time you popped up after that I felt nothing. Never once did Deadpool come into Spider-Man’s space and make him feel unsafe. Never once have you, Wade Wilson, made Peter Parker feel like he was in danger. Even before I knew you, trusted you, or loved you…” Peter shrugs. “I don’t know why, but… You don’t make me tingle.”
Peter lets out a high yelp, the room spinning as he’s thrown from Wade onto his back, pinned under the much bigger body of the merc.
Wade is kissing all over his face, lips catching Peter’s temple, his cheeks, his nose. “I love you. I love you more than anything, anyone, ever. You get that?” His voice is shaking, low and rough as his lips press to as much of Peter’s face as he can reach.
Heat rises through Peter’s blood, and he wraps his arms around Wade, squeezes him with just a bit of spider-strength so Wade wheezes in pleasure into his neck. “I get it.”
“You love me, too. You basically just confirmed we are soulmates, Petey baby. My precious Spidey was meant for me, and so the universe told him, ‘be not afraid’.”
“You big, stupid—” He’s cut off when Wade’s mouth finds his, big hands cupping his face. Wade’s warm, and heavy, familiar ever since before he was familiar. It never made any sense, but Peter never questioned it. Not really. He wraps his legs around Wade’s hips and hugs him with everything he has, until Wade’s making little whining sounds into their kiss. “What’s wrong, Wade?”
“Nothing,” Wade sighs. His eyes are shining, his voice shaky when he touches his forehead to Peter’s. “I just… Nothing will ever make me worthy of you. I’m… not good. I’m dangerous, and bad, and I do bad things. But you’ve never been afraid of me. You’ve always trusted me, somehow, and all I’ve ever—the only thing I ever…” Wade kisses Peter again. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I had to,” Peter says. He sets his hands on Wade’s cheeks, mirroring his pose, and holds him close. “I know sometimes you wonder if you’re good. Really good. And you are. Something very cellular and very real inside of me knew it from the very start. You’re strong, and skilled. Everything about you is dangerous.”
Wade’s big puppy dog eyes blink at him owlishly, waiting.
Peter smiles. “But you really aren’t. You’re good, and safe. You do your best, and you try so hard to protect people. Even if your methods are a little less than—” Peter trails off, thinking.
“Kosher?” Wade offers shyly.
“You are good. You’re good to me, Wade Wilson.” He nuzzles his face against Wade’s, feeling the little tremble in the bigger man’s body eb out. “That’s what matters most.”
“Your spidey sense is right, baby boy. I would never do anything to hurt my Petey. The most important thing to me in this entire multiverse is keeping you safe,” Wade says quietly.
“And you do,” Peter says gently. “You always have.”
“Can I love you forever? Will you let me do that?”
“I thought I was already,” Peter replies. He leans in to kiss Wade again, always eager for those lips on his, when his wrists are taken into Wade’s hands. His arms are stretched up over his head, Wade between his legs with a simple move of his knees before Peter can do anything to stop it.
Warmth swirls in his stomach, and he blinks up at Wade as those blue eyes rake over him slowly, calculated. Wade holds him still for so long Peter thinks he must be thinking on something very hard. But then Wade shifts his hips, slow, deliberate, and Peter can feel the ‘threat’ that the merc has put on the table. But it doesn’t exactly feel like a knife to the throat, or a gun to the back of the head.
It feels incredible.
“You feel safe right now? Ya don’t feel threatened, do you?” Wade asks, waggling his nonexistent brows.
Peter smiles up at him, squeezing his knees against Wade’s sides. “No tingle.”
Wade grins mischievously before pushing his face against Peter’s soft throat. He slides his hands from Peter’s wrists to his hands, lacing their fingers together and holding tight. “It’s alright, baby boy. I know other ways to make you tingle.”
