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Friday nights that don’t involve being suited up and being shot at by some villain or another have become rare in the life of Peter Parker. Which is to be expected when he’s joined the New Avengers—and really, how cool is that? He occasionally hangs out with Iron Man and Captain America who are his idols—if one could call babbling in between fights ‘hanging out’ but whatever, they would all be total bros eventually.
So Peter weighs his options. On one hand, he could try calling people to go out although he hasn’t really inserted himself into the social world in a while. The people he finds himself most comfortable with are the Avengers and his team, and they seem to all be preoccupied. And it’s almost a shame, because the evening is young and the sky has only just started to become a gradient of orange and pinks.
Social awkwardness final wins him over. Peter happily transfers as much junk food as he can and a mountain of blankets over to the couch. A cozy evening in is fine with him when he’s got comfortable sweatpants and a Star Trek t-shirt to go with the untouched copy of Borderlands 2. He lays out on the couch, limbs every which way and a bag of chips precariously balanced on his chest while he starts up his game.
Peter is warm and content, and he’s discovered a new found love for shotguns when they have a corrosive edge to their shells. There’s just something about neon green blasts of bullets that pleases him to no end.
The room is a little darker when he finds himself pausing the game to stretch. It’s mostly lit by the bright screen of the TV, and curiously Peter checks the clock to find that an hour and a half had already managed to pass. Maybe it’s just his sense of time that’s been thrown off, but he can’t help but feel slightly at unease, like something is off.
He sits up a bit, controller falling to the floor, and jumps at the sudden thud of plastic and hardwood floor. “Oh jeez,” he mumbles to himself, reaching down to retrieve the blinking Xbox controller. He’s just not used to having this much time, he tells himself, and proceeds to sit back up and come face to face with a red mask.
“I prefer Gunserker, myself.”
“Mother of erma—oh my—ugh—WADE!” Peter flails, effectively falling off of the couch, tangled in at least three blankets, and really what even. ”This is so not okay!”
Wade cackles like the bastard that he is, falling onto the couch in his laughter as Peter angrily tries to untangle himself from the blanket trap on the floor. “That seriously never gets old,” Wade says, still over exaggerating his amusement.
Peter huffs. “Why are you in my house?”
“Because I’m bored! Come play with me, it’s a Friday night and I’m forcing you out of your cave of antisocial nerdom,” Wade declares. He sounds so sure of himself that Peter knows that he won’t take no for an answer. Sighing longingly at his Xbox, Peter pulls himself up and wrinkles his nose at his lazy clothes.
“I’ll be right back then,” he says and can’t help but smirk a bit at the surprised expression he receives in turn. Contrary to popular belief, or maybe just Wade’s belief, Peter doesn’t mind hanging out with the merc. They’re friends and he’s not going to go down kicking and screaming when he’s being invited out (even if invited is a very loose way of describing it.)
Peter is still grinning to himself when he reaches his room.
He comes back downstairs in a charcoal sweater with a red, black, and white plaid shirt underneath that’s evident by the crooked collar and sleeves not covered by the sweater. He has on tight jeans and a black beanie that he thinks look casual enough even though Wade snorts at him when he comes downstairs.
“Spidey’s gone hipster,” Wade says, even though Peter thinks he looks a little odd when he has his red suit on underneath the jeans and black hoodie. But at least Peter isn’t the one with the My Little Pony reference in bold white text across his hoodie, ‘20% Cooler.’
“It’s comfortable,” Peter says defensively, slipping on his shoes. Alright, maybe the black Vans don’t help his case much. But still, comfortable. “I have no clue how you got in here, but I don’t want to know and we’re using the door.”
“If I told you then you wouldn’t let me back in that way,” Wade shrugs, following him out the front door. Peter takes a moment to lock in before shoving his hands into his pockets. He breathes out, watching as his breath rises in front of him in a visible wisp.
“It’s cold for Autumn,” he says absently. He misses the warmth of blankets and indoor heating already. Occasionally, he can feel Wade brush against his side as they walk, although it’s subtle and probably unintentional, he doesn’t mind it much. It’s this small reminder that at least there’s a warm body next to him.
They walk next to the street where cars drive past them with the faint hum of traffic in the distance. Peter doesn’t really know where they’re going, but he has a feeling that Wade doesn’t either considering he’s mostly impulse without control. So they walk, the cool autumn air against his skin that makes his face flush.
Wade seems pleased with himself, maybe just for getting Peter out of the house. They don’t get the chance to casually hang out with each other much. The last time Peter thinks he had a real conversation with him was the previous week when they had gotten trapped in a closet in enemy headquarters on a mission that Wade had not been invited to but showed up anyways.
Those kind of situations seem to happen a lot, Peter notes.
Wade nudges him a little. “We should go ice skating.”
“What? No, it’s freezing outside,” Peter shakes his head and wraps his arms around himself to reiterate that’s it’s really fucking cold.
“We’re going ice skating.”
Wade slings an arm around his shoulders and he’s so warm. But that might be because it’s chilly outside and by default Peter is forced to enjoy the body heat radiating off of him.
“I still don’t want to go ice skating,” Peter tells him, scrunching his face up and halfheartedly tries to wriggle away from him. It doesn’t really work and Wade just hums like he’s got some kind of plan concocting in his head—which he probably does.
The evening air seems just a bit less freezing as they walk.
.
.
“You know, for someone who wanted to go ice skating, you’re a bit wobbly.”
And by wobbly, Peter means that watching Wade flail on ice is probably the funniest thing he’s seen. He has to cover his mouth with his sleeve to muffle a laugh. Admittedly, the ice ring is nicer than being outside, even if it is equally cold. But Peter isn’t the one falling on the ice, so really he’s not complaining.
Wade, however, has become acquainted with the sheet of ice several times now.
“You cheat though! You have spidey powers and are probably related to jesus bugs that skate on water,” Wade whines, and leans over so he can grasp onto the side of the rink for support. Peter snorts, gracefully skating over to his side and maybe he does a twirl just to irk him.
“It’s easy,” Peter says, trying to pry Wade’s hands of the rail and rolls his eyes when he refuses to let go of his safety. “Seriously. Let go, I’ll help you.”
After a moment of trying to look innocent and trustworthy, Peter gets him to relinquish his hold and grab his hands. They probably look comical, he thinks, gliding back slowly with Wade shakily sliding with him. Because Wade is taller and bulkier than he is, but he’s about as graceful as a bull in a China shop. So he doesn’t really understand why Wade wanted to go ice skating.
Peter doesn’t realize he’s smiling like an idiot until a laugh escapes. And oh god, he really is smiling like an idiot. He’s trying to keep Wade Wilson from falling on his ass again on the ice and he’s genuinely enjoying his company to the point that he’s got this silly grin on his face.
Wade is all body mass and heat, but Peter tries to balance with him and move across the rink while simultaneously juggling his thoughts about what he’s doing. They nearly stumble a few times, but for the most part Peter is able to keep him steady. Points for superstrength.
“Ha, I’ve totally got this,” Wade says, trying to move away. But Peter overcompensates for trying to catch him and they’re both falling to the side. Peter doesn’t feel the pain of falling on ice, instead he’s landing on top of Wade who is still not soft by any means. For a moment, Peter thinks this is going to be one of those awful romcom moves where they end up in an awkward position, but he’s too busy moving away to avoid the ice to let any position settle.
Except Wade pulls him down by his wrist. And Peter subsequently feels his face heating up.
“Hey,” Wade says, and he can hear the smugness in his tone.
The teenager blanches. “Off. Bad. No.”
Wade laughs at him but releases him so he can get up off the ice. Just because Wade is an asshole that totally doesn’t deserve his help, Peter ignores the outstretched arms asking to help him up. Because Wade obviously can’t get up himself and takes a moment to register that Peter is skating away and leaving him there on the ice.
“Really? Peter, come on. Peterrrrr,” Wade whines.
“Nope,” the brunette calls from the other side of the rink, “Help yourself because I’m so done with you.”
Peter finally does help him after he can’t watch Wade squirming and mock army crawling on the ice any longer. But through their banter he doesn’t recognize the black haired girl nudging a silver haired boy in the side, gesturing towards them with a knowing grin.
.
.
“Hey, Peter.”
Peter looks over at him, raising a brow. They’re walking back to Peter’s house now, the sky dark and murky with clouds and the streets lit by dim electric lights. It’s colder than it was before, the chill settling in with the darkness and scent of leaves.
He watches Wade shrug off his hoodie and hold it out to him. Over his suit he’s still wearing a t-shirt, but Peter shakes his head because it’s too cold for Wade to be offering up clothing to him.
“I’m fine, don’t even pretend that you don’t want it. I know chattering teeth when I hear them. If I catch a cold you can just nurse me back to health,” Wade says, pushing the hoodie forward towards him. And it’s surprising in its own right that he went out and had fun with Wade tonight, but now he’s offering him his hoodie because he’s cold and it’s just really nice.
Peter almost doesn’t know what to do with the information.
So he takes the hoodie from him because Wade isn’t going to leave him alone about it and slips it on over his head. It’s oversized on him, but it’s incredibly warm like he’s bundled up in blankets again.
“Thanks,” Peter smiles softly, and alright he’s completely touched by the gesture and Wade probably doesn’t even realize how much it means to him. He walks a little closer to him the rest of the way back, but just because he thinks Wade is probably colder now without it.
.
.
Peter wears the hoodie to bed, but he tells himself he’s just cold and he might as well wear it when it’s that warm. It has nothing to do with the way it smells like Wade, like embers and grease and all these warm scents that shouldn’t be this comforting.
.
.
A few days later, Peter finds himself on the couch with Teddy in a heated battle of Halo Reach. Until Billy conveniently finds his place in Teddy’s lap and in Peter’s way of the TV—it’s some kind of system, he knows it, and it’s totally not fair.
“I heard you were on a date Friday night,” Billy says casually, and Peter’s one hundred percent convinced this is Teddy’s secret attack for making Peter lose at Halo because he nearly drops the controller.
“I wasn’t,” Peter frowns, “I went ice skating with Wade.”
Teddy and Billy do that thing where they look at each other in such a way Peter knows they’re communicating via married telepathy or something. He should have asked Tommy to hang out, he laments to himself quietly.
And he loves them, really he does, because it’s nice having some other heroes that understand what it’s like to be on the younger side of the spectrum. But sometimes he just doesn’tgetthem because they’ve been through so much together and maybe no one really get Teddy or Billy the way that they do with each other exclusively.
Billy scrunches up his face like he’s trying not to smile. “Okay. And you’re suddenly a Brony?”
Peter looks down at the hoodie guiltily.
“I like it?”
The couple doesn’t look convinced at all. But Peter doesn’t really know why he’s so prone to wearing it and maybe not looking forward to when Wade asks for it back. He justlikesit.
“How do you even know I was out Friday?” Peter asks the younger teenagers, trying to change the subject.
“Kate is a bit of a gossip,” Teddy explains fondly.
“I still don’t get why this is so interesting,” Peter huffs.
“You’ll figure it out soon enough, we’re not telling you,” Billy grins at him and proceeds to nuzzle his face into his boyfriend’s neck which is enough sign for Peter to get off the couch and take his leave.
Stupid boyfriends and their secrets, he thinks and tries to muster a glare at the young Hawkeye and her sly grin on his way out.
.
.
“You know Peter,” Tony says to him, looking over the wires he’s currently welding together. Peter has found that he can learn a lot from him, which is both equally awesome as it is helpful, because he’s learning superhero tips from Iron Man himself.
But really he should have known something was up when Tony asked if he wanted to make some upgrades to his Spider-Man suit.
“We all just noticed that you’ve been hanging out with Deadpool lately and,” Oh god no he is not really suggesting what Peter thinks, “We just want you to be safe as part of the team—”
“We’re not having sex,” Peter blurts out quickly.
Tony raises a brow at him. “I meant because he’s a violent maniac that we don’t want to kill you.”
“Oh.”
“But if that’s the case, I can give you some—”
“Oh my god, no,” Peter groans, hiding his face in his hands. He just made the worst slip in front of Iron Man. He just insinuated the possibility that Wade and he were having sex—in front of Iron Man.
And did Peter just really jump to he and Wade having sex?
.
.
So Peter is slightly panicking and incredibly confused. Because this was Wade. Deadpool. The Merc with the Mouth. The guy that annoys the hell out of him just because he can.
And it’s the one who he genuinely enjoys being around lately because he knows Wade tries. He knows that he’s more than a little fucked up in the head, but there’s some sentiment buried down there albeit deep down there. Peter doesn’t really understand why he likes Wade, to be honest, and that’s the scariest part of it.
The cons outweigh the pros, by far, and Peter just wants to blame it on hormones but he can’t.Because it’s not about the way that Wade looks, it’s about him somehow making him happy and letting him be who he wants. Although, Peter will admit the more that he thinks about it, the more he thinks that Wade really pulls off spandex well.
Really well.
Oh god.
“I think I want to date Deadpool,” Peter says abruptly before realizing that he’s definitely not alone when the rest of his team turns to look at him. Coulson stops mid-sentence—because they were in a meeting, oh right. And the rest of the Avengers just stare at him while Peter mentally hopes that he can just throw himself out a window.
“Finally,” Natasha says like this isn’t a surprise and there are a few nods of agreement.
They turn back to Coulson who is equally unphased by the announcement and the meeting resumes.
Because they had all known, Peter realizes and thinks back to the younger Avengers and those damn knowing grins.
They had all known. Peter lets his head fall onto the table with a loud thud.
.
.
“Hey Spidey, can I have my hoodie back?”
Peter has no idea how Wade got into his house but he manages not to fall off his couch this time. Flail a little, maybe, but for the most part he’s composed and not freaking out.
“I need to talk to you,” Peter says quickly and pulls himself up off the couch. He’s spent a little too much time thinking about this and he just needs to say it before he explodes. Because it feels like his stomach is doing flips and maybe trying to escape through his throat.
And as nerve wrecking as it is, it’s also slightly pleasant in the butterflies kind of way, although these butterflies are more on the monstrous side, he’s decided.
Wade tilts his head, waiting for Peter to continue.
The shorter superhero steps forward looking up at him before looking away because he almost considers just not doing this, but if he’s going to do it, it’s going to be now. “I like you.”
“I like you too?” Wade says, sounding far too oblivious to be genuine. And Peter glares because he’s not even surprised by it—Wade had known too. Wade had known and let him pine and act like an idiot wearing his hoodie for over a week.
“I hate you,” Peter says, pulling Wade down by the back of his neck and he uses his other hand to shove his mask up enough so he can press his lips against his in what’s a little forced and a lot unpracticed, but it’s a kiss that proves his point and makes the monstrous butterflies in his stomach go on a complete rampage.
Wade kisses him back and he can feel him laughing against his lips. “For a genius, you’re pretty slow.”
“Shut up,” Peter mumbles, leaning into the way that Wade slides his arms around his waist and kisses him back like he’s got all the time in the world.