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Wade was born with no words on his arm.
It happened occasionally. Some people don't have soulmates. There are other, rarer cases, like soulmates being mute, but the soul-mate-less unfortunates are often doomed by their bare wrists to be alone for the rest of their lives.
Maybe that was why Wade found it in himself to become a merc. There was something that hardened in him after he was told, from the moment he could listen, that he would die alone.
Peter was born with the word "Fuck" on his arm.
People thought it was a great amusement. Some of the more uptight types thought he was going to have a thug as a soulmate.
Almost everyone else had one of two options: a bland greeting or common phrase-- "Hi, are you the veterinarian?" or the astonished reply-- "Oh my goodness... you're really here!"
People have expressed hope that Peter's soulmate is the one who speaks first. If the soulmate is reacting to knowing they have Peter as a soulmate...
It doesn't spell good things for the start of a relationship.
When Wade died the first time, he finally understood.
He looked at his wrist in wonderment. To his soulmate, he must not be alive yet.
It was an incredible discovery.
Wade threw himself happily into death.
Peter watched his words grey out and panicked.
Sometimes, the universe got it wrong. This was very, very rare. Far rarer than the mutes. Far rarer than any other issue. A soulmate dies before they can say their word.
It was thought that there was some power higher than that which causes the soulmates, and sometimes it meddled.
In any case, Peter's wrist was turning grey. For a second, it went white. Peter collapsed on the floor in his room, clutching his wrist.
And then it was black again.
Peter may never forgive his soulmate for this near death experience, he thought, as he tried and failed to calm his racing breath and heart.
Wade died again and again. He felt that one day he would wake from death and words would be on his wrist.
He was right.
"Oh my god! Are you okay?" bloomed on his wrist after one regeneration.
This time, he thought. Before he next died, he would meet his soulmate.
He would make an effort to stay conscious long enough to hear the words from the mouth of his *gasp* soulmate.
Peter's wrist had greyed again and again. What kind of job does his soulmate have?
After the spider bite and everything, Peter kind of wondered the effect he was having on his soulmate's wrist.
He wondered what he will say.
He thought that considering they almost die so much, they'll probably be okay with him almost dying a lot too.
Wade stumbled through the streets. He was being chased by what looked like a rabid hound-- it was genetically modified and mechanically enhanced, and quite more than a match for the poor superpowered mercenary.
Fuck, he thought, pulling his useless leg behind him. Fuck, holding in his entrails. The regeneration was doing its magic, but he has sworn he will not lose consciousness until he meets them.
He will not.
It was just your average day-- fighting a genetically modified, mechanically enhanced hound.
Peter was worried even as he webbed the hound. He got the sense that the fight was not yet over.
Oh god! There were two cages open. Two hounds released! And here he was, standing around--
Peter followed a trail of body parts and red fabric and thought the worst has happened. He finally saw the hound--
It was straining to attack a man that Peter recognized as Deadpool, having seen him in action in brief flashes as he passed by but never having interacted with him.
Deadpool didn't look so hot. Peter had heard of the super-healing, but his guts were out and his leg was... almost disconnected.
And his face was inches away from enhanced maw.
Peter webbed the hound, yanking it back. At the same time, Deadpool shoved, sending the hound away.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" Peter demanded, dropping the web, as Deadpool's other injuries become suddenly evident: the stream of blood from the bite on the shoulder, the sluggish bleeding from the head, the now complete lack of attachment to the leg.
Deadpool looked up at Peter with wonder in his mask's eyes. He tried to sit up.
"Fuck!" he shouted.
The hound attacked and killed him.
God damn it! And now that Peter had said those words, Wade was free to die.
With his last moments of consciousness, he was glad he'd said fuck. What a way to go-- cementing a curse word on your soulmate's arm.
Darkness.
Peter yanked the dog off of Deadpool. Fuck was right. From the looks of Peter's wrist, Deadpool was not okay at all, and by god, now that Peter had found his soulmate-- he would keep him!
Peter didn't even bother with the web, instead using his considerable power to punch the shit out of the dog. Even as it crumpled, Peter peeled back his suit to look at his wrist and saw it going white.
"No, no," Peter muttered, crawling over to Deadpool. His webbing served as a makeshift bandage, and he did his best to clean up the mess that was Deadpool's stomach. Crawling off the merc at last, Peter saw that the word on his wrist was all but vanished. If it was gone, Deadpool was dead.
And it suddenly was.
Peter screamed.
But as Peter screamed, he became conscious of a new set of words blooming on his wrist. Words... plural.
Peter couldn't force the tears away from his eyes long enough to see, but in two seconds, it didn't matter anyway.
Wade woke up.
Spider-Man was leaning over him, and the sticky substance over his gaping wound must be spiderweb.
He recalled the events, the Fuck! and the dying, and checked his wrist to find, to his delight, new words.
"You fucking asshole!"
Wade read it over again, and looked up at Spider-Man. "I'm a little bit in love with you already," he said.
"I'm a little bit in love with you already," he said, like he was reading Peter's arm.
Peter gasped and stared. Deadpool was-- alive?
"I regenerate," he added, looking down. "I literally can't die."
"You fucking asshole!" Peter shouted suddenly, which is not what he meant, but it's what he felt. "All this time-- all my panicking-- you keep dying-- I am NOT OKAY with this!! Stop dying!" Peter finished.
"I can't promise you anything," Deadpool said, "except that I meant what I said, Spider-Boy. You're adorable."
"Spider-Man," Peter said quickly.
"How about a name?"
"Peter."
"Wade Wilson. Super-powered ex-merc. Basically, I'm sorry you got stuck with me."
"It's fine," Peter said. "I want to kiss you out of relief. Can we ditch the masks?"
Absolutely not, Wade thought.
"I'm covered in dog," he pointed out aloud.
"Doesn't matter," Peter (Peter!!) said.
Peter reached for Wade's mask. If his soulmate didn't like him, who would? Wade finally decided.
It didn't hold back his apprehension as Peter seized the hem of the mask.
Scarred, pitted red skin.
Dog blood. Dog guts. Wade guts.
Peter didn't hesitate before pressing his lips to Wade's. It wasn't a very good kiss because Peter couldn't stop smiling enough to participate properly.
"Look at the pair of us," he said.
...
Three years later
...
"Did you buy any cherry Jello?" Peter's wrist said.
"Why the fuck do you need it?" Wade's wrist said.
Peter was at the grocery store, and his words had just changed, so Wade had just died. Again. Peter hoped he kept the blood off anything nice.
Cherry jello, hmm? Well. He'd be the best boyfriend ever if he "predicted" Wade's wishes.
"Did you buy any cherry Jello?"
"Why the fuck do you need it?"
"This was a pretty boring round," Wade complained, grabbing both their wrists. His favorites were strings of explicative, and Peter's favorites were things like "I love you, babe"-- so he could show them to people and watch their confusion.
"I bought cherry Jello," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "Why?"
"You're the best!" Wade said instead.
...
Two months later
...
It said "Will you marry me?" on Peter's wrist.
He was smiley the entire day. Wade was out doing hero work; he'd be back in two days.
He couldn't resist showing as many people as possible. People reacted with extreme confusion.
Then Peter suddenly realized what he needed to do.
He rushed to a jeweller's and tried to get a ring, but dismissed everything he saw on sight. He left the store in disgust and panicked, trying to think how he could propose to Wade.
Wade wouldn't even like a traditional ring; what was he doing? Peter found heavy metal rings that seemed more Wade's style, and seriously considered purchasing one.
The store owner thought Peter was crazy, probably.
But Wade lost limbs constantly. Nothing would do, nothing would do! In desperation, Peter found himself in the CVS a few blocks from their house.
Walking down the candy aisle, Peter's eyes fell on ring pops.
"Will you marry me?"
Wade stared at his wrist and grinned delightedly. He'd been planning on proposing, but it looked like his decision was being made for him.
And shit! He didn't have the ring on him, but Peter would certainly be waiting for him when he got home. He had never been able to sneak up on Peter, and he wouldn't be able to now, so getting the ring was out of the question.
Wade strolled down the shops, taking his time, waiting for his lungs to regenerate-- a minor wound. No death had happened this time around.
There.
A candy store.
Wade knew exactly what he needed.
Wade was HERE! Peter, still in civilian clothes, swung out one handed to land in front of his boyfriend, ring pop safely tucked behind his back.
Wade inhaled and Peter breathed with him.
"Will you marry me?" they both cried as one, dropping to their knees and pulling out rings.
Peter looked at Wade's ring. "Ring pop?"
"Ring pop?" Wade asked around his grin. "Yes, sweetie, I'll marry you."
They traded ring pops and immediately started contentedly consuming their promises.
"I have a real ring for you," Wade said after they'd finished sharing candy-sticky kisses for several minutes.
"I..." Peter started.
"No, I get it. I'd lose it. Why don't you just wear my ring, okay?"
"Until the end of my life," Peter said.
It had been clear for years that Peter aged much slower than the average population. As for Wade, well.
"That could be a very long time."
"I hope it will."