Chapter Text
It started off innocently enough.
“What the hell, Wade?” Peter asked, staring at what could only politely called an absolute mess. Sure, it’d been almost a year since the last time Wade had invited him over, but Peter distinctly remembered there being things like a huge television and all sorts of electronic toys and a car on the ceiling at his last place.
The new pad was apparently a dingy apartment boasting a tiny tv, a battered couch, and an odor that Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to know the source of.
“What?” Wade said, pushing past him and looking around. “Oh, sorry,” he said, before moving a few old pizza boxes off the couch and dumping them in the corner. “I meant to clean, but I just got my nails done, and I didn’t want to ruin the color. Tell me you understand, Darling?”
“What happened to all your stuff?” Peter asked, taking in the bare walls that were decorated in paint chips and despair, and was it his imagination, or was the takeout box on the counter moving?
“What stu—ohhh, that’s right. The last time you were in my boudoir, the place was all pimped out. Yeah, well, soon after you destroyed all my most beloved possessions—”
“I did not!”
It was amazing how expressive Wade’s mask could be.
“You can’t blame me for the fact that you blew up your own place!” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
“If you hadn’t lead Mummy-face to me, I wouldn’t have had to blow up my own place! I could’ve blown up somebody else’s place instead!”
Annnnd that was why Peter hadn’t been to Wade’s in nearly a year. After everything that had happened with Patient Zero and Itsy Bitsy, all the progress that they’d made working together had pretty much stalled and died.
If Wade hadn’t fought for their friendship—and Peter could admit, it’d all been Wade—then that would’ve been it. End of story.
But Wade had fought, had pled his case whenever he was in town until Peter had finally believed and (grudgingly) forgiven him for trying to become friends with him in order to get to Peter Parker and then killing him. Twice. Wade had continued to seek Peter out to team up at first, and when Peter couldn’t stand the nagging anymore and agreed, had immediately started dropping hints that they should hang out again with all the delicacy of an elephant trying to drink tea. It’d taken several more months of Peter making sure Wade was really, really sincere this time—it probably wouldn’t have actually taken that long, but Wade had taken an international job that had lasted four months. In the interim, it’d been kind of a slap in the face when Peter realized that he’d missed him—but here they were.
And sure, there were still rough edges and apparently mentioning anything that had happened a year ago brought up some sore feelings, but Peter liked Wade. A lot. Respected him too, and had grown to trust him even more—he’d even revealed his true identity, and the horrified look on Wade’s face after the big reveal had made Peter’s chest ache weirdly any time he thought about it for a solid month—and this? All of this? Wasn’t worth arguing about. Wade had thought he’d been doing the right thing in taking Peter Parker out. He, on the other hand, had been angry—justifiably so maybe—but he’d done things as a result of that anger that he wasn’t proud of.
Which is why he sighed and said, “You’re right. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have lead them here. I’m sorry.”
He could tell from the way Wade’s mask moved that he’d opened and closed his mouth a few times as he tried to figure out if Peter was sincere or not, and it made him smile. “But why didn’t you replace it all?” Peter asked.
Wade cleared his throat. “Well, funny enough, when you divorce the Queen of the Underworld, she gets a little testy and takes all your worldly possessions and your testes as a souvenir. Don’t worry, they grew back,” he said, as Peter’s eyes automatically dropped down. Wade gave his hips a little wiggle. “Wanna see?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Well, don’t say I never offered,” Wade said.
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Wade shrugged then plopped down on the couch, arms across the back and legs spread wide, invitation obvious in every line.
It was all Peter could do not to roll his eyes again. Instead, he surveyed the room. The box was moving. He was sure of it.
He’d known Wade and Shiklah had gotten divorced right after everything had gone done with Itsy Bitsy, but he hadn’t realized how much she’d taken in the settlement—although he’d bet Wade hadn’t fought too hard for an equal share. Wade tended to be almost too giving to the people he cared for.
Still, Wade deserved better. Peter remembered Wade saying how much he loved his bachelor’s pad, and maybe it would’ve all been lost in the divorce anyway, but Peter couldn’t stem the rising guilt now that he knew how Deadpool was living, nor did he try.
“Let me make it up to you,” he said impulsively.
Wade tilted his head. “Interesting. With blow—?”
“I will hurt you if you finish that sentence. I mean let me clean this place up a bit, get rid of the night of the living fungus that’s no doubt inhabiting your refrigerator and the mice in your couch maybe; buy you a TV that doesn’t have a crack down the side.”
“I was going to say ‘blowtorches,’ because who doesn’t like blowtorches, but obviously your mind went somewhere different, Petey-Pie,” Wade said, shaking his head sadly. “As for the rest of it, ha, joke’s on you! I don’t have a refrigerator! Also, I think the crack adds a little je ne sais quoi to the tv-watching experience.”
“Well, excuse me for being mislead. You’re a walking dirty joke just waiting to happen. And what about the mice?”
“There aren’t any mice.”
“Yes, Wade, there are. I can hear them squeaking.”
“That’s the springs.”
“I’m pretty sure the springs in that couch died a long time ago.”
“No, there’s one trying to get to third base with me right now,” Wade said, squirming. “Normally, I’d expect at least dinner and dancing first, but it knows how to treat a girl right—”
“Oh my gosh, just say yes.”
“But it’s so sudden,” Wade breathed, holding his hands near his cheek and no doubt fluttering his eyelashes. “What will my family say?”
“‘How much do we owe you?’ probably.” The desire to roll his eyes was there again, but then, when he hung out with Wade, it was always there. “There’s no ‘off’ button on you, is there?”
“Why would you want to turn off this?” Wade saying, waving at what Peter assumed was supposed to be all his glory. “But why does it matter anyway? These aren’t the worst conditions I’ve ever lived in.”
“Sure, but you don’t need to live like this anymore,” Peter said, which was really the root of the problem. Wade was working with SHIELD. He had to have enough money to buy something better, even if he couldn’t shell out the big bucks to recreate his bachelor’s pad from before. For some reason, though, he wasn’t doing anything about it. Maybe it was sentimentality. If it couldn’t be as good as his last one, he didn’t want anything at all. Maybe he just liked slumming it. Which seemed preposterous, but when had Peter ever really understood what was going through Wade’s head? Whatever the reason, it made Peter cringe to look around, and if Wade wasn’t going to do something about it, then Peter was.
Wade looked at him for a moment then shrugged. “Alright. Whatever floats your boat, Snookums. A bazillionaire wants to buy me a couple of nice things? Who am I to refuse?”
“Exactly,” Peter said and started making phone calls.