Summary: Peter tries to tell Wade his feelings. It’s kind of a train-wreck.
Word Count: 930
Love Me Dead
Somehow, watching Wade pass out on his kitchen floor isn’t how Peter wanted to come to this conclusion. No, really—he does not want this to be the reason he tells Wade Wilson he loves him. It’s supposed to be so much simpler, glamorous, or anything but the fear of loosing Wade because it’s so inherently stupid, when Wade’s practically immortal, that Peter just can’t stand it.
He’s sitting on his kitchen bar, watching Wade who is lying, passed out, in a puddle of his (now coagulating) blood. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters to himself, as if speaking might some how shake away the anxiety clenching at his heart. The problem with whatever it is he has with Wade is that it’s so goddamned fragile. He knows that this thing (because they aren’t dating, absolutely not) isn’t something normal, not for him and not for Wade, and he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to actually feel something for Wade. He doesn’t know how Wade will react. And that’s what makes his decision all the more terrifying.
Wade stirs where he sits on the floor, murmuring, “Bea, I just wanted to cuddle.” That has to have been the longest Peter’s ever seen Wade be quite.
“Awake yet, sunshine?”
The mercenary sits up, groaning and looking around. “Where…? This isn’t Del Taco. Oh—hey Spidey!” Peter can’t help but smile at Wade’s excitement. The chatter gets annoying quickly, but every once in a while it’s just enough to be endearing.
“Hey,” he says softly, and he knows why he’s barely speaking above a whisper. There’s a nervous lump in his throat and he doesn’t know if he can do this. Communicating is one thing when he’s hiding behind the mask, that comes so easily, but right now he’s just Peter and he doesn’t know if he can do this, but the first step to getting there is talking to Wade—actually Wade. “We need to talk. And I mean Wade, not Deadpool so take off the mask.”
“Petey, you know I love it when you get kinky but—“
“Take it off Wade.”
Peter can make out a frown behind the mask before Wade pulls it off, and he smiles then, just lightly. He doesn’t care about the scars, he never has. As far as Peter’s concerned they’re not actually that bad, even though Wade won’t believe him.
“Thank you,” he says, and his voice has gone tight now because how can he even say this when he’s so terrified of messing everything up? He pulls his legs up to sit cross-legged and his fingers clench into the material of his shorts. He’s silent for a long moment then, staring into his lap, trying to force his brain to actually put the right words together and all he can come up with is chirping crickets.
“Y’know, talking actually involves speaking. I’m pretty good at that so if you need some lessons I’d be glad to help, though I’m positive it’d go from actually teaching to porn in 2.5 seconds because face it Pete, you dressed up like a school boy—who could resist?”
Peter lets out a quiet, nervous laugh, because here he is being a complete idiot about finding the right words and Wade is just being a verbal fountain. He’s not even trying and he’s better at expressing himself than Peter is.
“Wade, shut up, please and let me just… I can’t… I need to do the talking, because I have to talk about this thing, between us, because its huge and confusing—“
“Petey if you want my di—“
“I’m not talking about your penis, Wade. Focus.” Peter sighs and leans back, knocking his head against the cabinet in frustration. Three words. That’s all he needs and why is he making it so much harder? “I’m talking about whatever it is we have and I just… Are you invested in this? At all? Because this thing… it’s… I can’t…”
“Hey now,” Wade says, raising his hands defensively, “I know I’m handsy and all but you’re cool, Spidey, and if you wanna kick me out you have to know I’m just gonna keep popping back in to annoy you.”
Peter brings a hand to his face then, shaking his head lightly because he’s questioning now, how did he ever fall in love with this idiot? “Wade. I’m just trying…” He clenches his fists at his knees again and gives Wade a pleading look, like he’ll somehow make Wade understand what he’s trying to say just by begging him. “I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m trying not to make this awkward between us but I just need to tell you—“
“You’re breaking up with me aren’t you?” Wade asks, at the same time Peter finally speaks in a rushed voice:
“I’m absolutely in love with you, Wilson.”
Wade’s silent. The absolute last moment Peter wants him to be quiet and Wade’s just sitting there gaping at him. Peter feels a flush rise up his body and he stares down into his lap, cheeks burning. He can hear Wade rustling—getting up and leaving probably—and he refuses to look.
Seconds later Wade’s finger is hooked beneath his chin and he’s nudging Peter’s head up gently, making him look. Peter’s heart swells then, because its Wade’s stupid scarred face right in front of him, smiling like an idiot. And then he leans in and kisses Peter as if there’s nothing in the word better than Peter’s train-wreck of a love confession—and there is no other way Peter would have it.