Fuckin' Around

Thwip, thwip!

Two long strands of webbing flew through the air one after another as a red and blue blur shot across the New York skyline, headed toward a housing district. Spider-man seemed to be in a hurry, but no danger was currently threatening the area - no one shouting for help, no sirens echoing through the evening sky. He landed with a soft thud on the side of a small apartment complex, peered around, and quickly scuttled to the floor below. With ease and practice, he heaved himself into the open window beneath him and then spun to close the blinds.

"Late, as usual, babe."

Spider-man rolled his eyes, letting the expression transfer to his mask. "You really need to stop flirting with me, Wade. What will the Mrs. think?"

"Oh, you know I only have eyes for you!" Wade Wilson stepped into the living room that Spider-man was now standing in the middle of, wearing his signature mercenary suit - sans the mask.

"What are we watching?" The web-head moved to the couch and plopped down.

Wade joined his friend on the sofa, bringing a large bowl of popcorn and two beers with him, "I picked out a horror movie, nice and scary so maybe you'll cuddle up to me when you get frightened."

"Oh, come off it, Wade!" He laughed as he reached for one of the beers.

Wade hit play on the remote after passing off the extra drink and smirked, "you'll give in one day, and we'll live happily ever after."

Peter pulled off his mask and set it on the arm of the couch to take a drink of his beer, "I'm going to need a way stronger drink if that's the plan."

The Merc with a Mouth grinned wider, "I've got vodka, or maybe you'd prefer tequila?"

Raising an eyebrow, Peter smirked, "I was kidding, Wade!"

"Aww, c'mon!" Wade gave his friend a pouting face, "this already seems like it's going to be a cookie cutter horror flick, let's play a horror trope drinking game!"

Peter paused for a moment, sparing a glance at the cliché teenager party scene, and then threw his free hand in the air as a shrug, "sure, why the hell not?"

"Oh, hell yeah!" Wade got up and dashed into the kitchen.

Vodka was poured, shots were downed, and the movie was crawling toward its cliché car dash scene where the protagonists keep tripping while running away from the murderer. Peter was absolutely smashed and Wade was well on his way through a hearty drunken phase. The web-head lolled his head over to the side at an angle to peer at his friend, "hey, uh... I'm pretty messhed up man. Think I can crash here for the night?"

Wade took one look at Peter's beat red face and swimming eyes, "yeah, I don't think I want you drinkin' and slingin' tonight."

They both chuckled, and then Peter stretched his arms up over his head with a yawn, "I could always call an Uber inshtead."

"You're still dressed as Spider-Man, or did you forget?" Wade slapped the logo on Peter's chest and then hauled himself to a stand, "besides, you know you're always welcome here."

"You know I actually really appreciate-" Peter started, but Wade interrupted him.

"Besides, this gives me a chance to stare at that handsome face of yours while you sleep." Wade winked at him and gestured toward the spare bedroom.

"Goddammit Wade, why do you have to ruin everything?!" Peter smacked his friend on the arm as he heaved himself up to a stand as well.

"It's what I do," Wade walked over to the room, pulled the door open, and then gestured as if he were a door man.

"No, sheriously," Peter faced his friend, "every time we have a moment, you say or do shomething to shatter it."

Deadpool stared at Peter with a level expression for a moment and then spoke up again, "you know I don't do serious, Pete."

"Sho are you just fucking around then?" Peter had taken only a few small steps toward Wade, his eyebrows scrunched in a hurt and confused expression.

"Fucking around?" Wade let go of the door, "what do you mean?"

Peter took a few more steps closer, swaying a bit as he walked. The words came so much easier tonight, and he silently blamed the alcohol. Normally he would be too scared of how Wade would react to broach this subject, despite it having gnawed at him for a while now. After one more staggering step, he was now only a few feet away as he finally asked the question he'd been too scared to utter for months, "the flirting, Wade," he straightened his stance a bit, "do'ya mean it, or are you jusht fuckin' around?"

Wade stared at him, utter disbelief frozen on his face. His jaw then stiffened, as if he were in deep thought, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly as they stared at the carpet in front of him. It seemed as though an eternity had passed before he lifted his head to peer into Peter's eyes. "Well I guess that depends, Pete," he shifted, now clearly nervous, "do you want me to mean it, or do you want to stay friends?"

"Fuck, Wade," Peter staggered forward unsteadily as the full force of his drunken state finally caught up to him, "I've been shcared all this time of what you'd think 'a me and it turnsh out you feel the shame way?"

He wrapped his arms around Wade's neck as he finally made it all the way across the room. The web-head had tears in his eyes as he squeezed for a hug and whispered one last thing before passing out, "I've loved you — for a long time."

Peter awoke from his alcohol induced slumber when light from a nearby window rested on his eyelids. He blinked furiously and then moved his hand to block the offending sunlight, holding his head with the other. "Oh, God, my head."

"Yeah, a hangover will do that," Wade rolled over, rustling sheets moving across him as he did so, "I'm lucky enough that I don't get them anymore."

"Please don't ever let me drink that much again, Wade," the web-head covered both of his eyes with his hands.

"I'll make sure you take it easy next time," Wade put his hands behind his head to prop himself up a bit more.

"Thanks; it was fun, but this headache is the worst," Peter rubbed at his temples a moment and then his eyes shot open as he made a realization.

He sat bolt upright and peered around the room. They were in the guest bedroom, sharing a bed. He moved his eyes to gaze over at Wade, "we didn't uh..."

"No, don't worry, Spider-boy," Wade sat up as well, "I kept it wholesome, I'm even wearing pajamas."

He pointed at the Spider-man pajamas he was wearing, something that made Peter smile for a moment. Wade then spoke up again, "you just seemed like you didn't want to be alone."

"I vaguely remember crying, but not much else," Peter rubbed at the back of his neck, "what happened?"

"Well we watched a movie, drank some alcohol, ate some popcorn..." Wade was counting on his fingers as he listed things off, "oh, and you confessed your undying love for me."

Peter froze, staring at Wade like a deer caught in headlights. Though he'd cared for Wade romantically for several months now, he never imagined having the guts to actually tell him. Wade flirted with him jokingly, but Peter always imagined it was just that— a joke. So, he never tried to pursue it. Though, it seemed the alcohol did the talking for him, "I, uh..."

"Wow," Wade started, "its true then? You weren't just talking out of your drunken ass?"

The color drained from Peter's face. This was it— this was the day he lost his best friend to awkward unrequited love. All because he couldn't hold his liquor. "Well, I..."

Wade leaned forward and kissed him.

Peter was startled at first, but soon relaxed into it and let his eyes close as the sensation of Wade's rough scarred lips moving across his own took over. Wade moved a hand to caress Peter's face and slowly pulled back, locking his gaze on the younger man's eyes as the kiss broke.

"Shit, Pete," He brushes a piece of Peter's hair out of his face, "I've loved you for a while now too."