So after four chapters, here it is. The final part. Hopefully it'll live up to expectations. Thank you to everyone who stayed with me until the end of this fic. You all mean so much to me, more than you'll ever know.

Luana Rosette: Don't worry, this wasn't too uncomfortable to read :) I'm so glad you like it (and Gwen-I wanted to do a good job with writing her and it makes me happy to hear that I did 3)! I hope you like this next chapter!

Randomeyeraze69: Bitte! :) Thank you for reading! I know, it sucks that it's the last chapter already :/


Peter couldn't look at Wade, couldn't look at Gwen. He kept his back hunched and head down throughout the whole examination in the bathroom, blanching and shivering as Wade let out angry hisses and curses. Gwen's ministrations were brisk, fast to save him from the embarrassment she knew he felt. She took multiple pictures of the bruises and cuts decorating him, having him shift his arms or legs to get clearer shots.

Afterwards, Gwen yanked her latex gloves off and threw them into the trash bin, stepping out with Wade so Peter could collect himself and get dressed. Neither commented on the shaky breaths that were audible through the door.

"How about you take Peter back to my place?" Gwen prodded Wade softly, running a hand over her cheek. "Or to your room? I need to talk with Logan about this, and Peter doesn't need to hear it."

"I'll take him back to your place," Wade said. His room was a pigsty—he couldn't subject Peter to the terror of spending the night there when the mercenary couldn't even stand being in there himself.

"You should make him some tea," she advised while stepping away. "He likes it."

He waited until he heard Gwen's footsteps reach the top of the stairs and her soft voice conversing with Logan's harsh growls before he reentered the bathroom. Grief and rage bubbled in the back of his throat at the sight of Peter sitting on the edge of the tub, fully dressed and looking like he'd been hit by a semi. The teenage superhero kept his pale face pointed at the floor, no doubt hiding whatever he was feeling.

"C'mon," Wade said, both he and Peter wincing at how loud he was in comparison to the silent room. "I have orders from Blondie to take you back her place. Mommy and Daddy need to talk about important things." The joke soured, but Peter stood up and trailed out of the bathroom, not waiting to see if Wade would follow him.

Peter took off his shoes upon arriving, setting them by the other shoes with care and motioning for Wade to do the same. The older man hurriedly followed suit, putting his ratty tennis shoes by Peter's.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Peter asked dully, rummaging around in the kitchen for a cup. "I can make—"

"I'll make tea!" Wade blurted quickly as he remembered what Gwen had said, yanking the mug out of Peter's grip with more aggression than necessary. Peter leaned back, eyes widening before squinting in confusion. "You should, uh, just sit down and chill," he said in a notably softer tone, attempting to make up for his outburst. "I'll make it."

"Um. Okay."

Peter hoisted himself up onto the counter, leaning against the cupboards and listlessly picking at his nails. The mercenary fought viciously with the teakettle, muttering curses under his breath as he worked to open the puzzle-like top and fill it with water. It was so stupidly modern and 'simple' that it took more tries than he'd like to say to open it. He'd never admit it, but he hadn't ever had to use a teakettle before. He thought tea tasted like boiled grass and the types of visitors he had weren't the kind who wanted to sit around and chitchat with a cup.

The teakettle was safely settled on the stovetop, and with nothing else to do, Wade scooted onto the island, sitting across from Peter.

Wade opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it before something inappropriate could get out. Vetoing a few subjects and selecting his words carefully, he finally said, "Logan and Blondie are gonna take care of this."

Peter stared at him, solemn. He didn't give any hint to if what the mercenary was saying was the right thing.

"They'll probably kick and stab the asses of everyone at school, make sure that no one even thinks about fucking with you again."

A corner of Peter's mouth quirked upwards, a movement so minuscule that Wade nearly missed it.

"Those little shits won't even know what hit 'em," Wade babbled on, spurred by the reaction. "Blondie's a tough little thing, I bet she can totally scare the ever-living shit out of them. And even if she can't, you know that Logan could make them pee their pants by looking at them. And totally don't worry about the Avengers. I know that the green guy and Captain America'll take your side. I'm not supposed to know this, and you'll never figure out how I found out, but when you were 'suspended'"—he sneered the word—"they stood up and are still fightin' pretty damn hard to shoo it away."

Peter snorted derisively, thinking back to the disappointed texts he'd gotten from Steve after he'd been suspended.

"I'm not kidding. They're going nuts tryin' to get you back because they know you wouldn't beat on someone without a good reason."

"Why would they do that, Wade?" Peter asked, head thumping back on the cupboards behind him.

"Because they know that you're a good kid," Wade said vehemently, leaning towards Peter. "They can see that you're sweet, way too selfless and strong as a motherfucker. You put up with being people's punching bag and then go right out to save them from crazy super villains. And then you respect what Fury says and play the regular teenager with your aunt. It's crazy. You're crazy, Peter, and one of the best people I know."

Peter flushed, wincing and staring to fold in on himself. "I'm not strong," he uttered, tilting his head pointedly towards where the cuts on his arm were.

Wade slid off the counter and closed the distance towards them, standing in between the other's legs. With deliberate motions, he took Peter's wrist and rolled up his sleeve, staring at them closely. He placed his large hand over them and met Peter's gaze.

"Yeah, you are," Wade said. "You chose to cut yourself instead of killing yourself. That's the strongest and bravest choice you could make."

Peter's eyes widened almost comically, face a bright red. His eyebrows furrowed and his throat closed up. He reached out for the hand around his wrist, interlacing their fingers. Tears blurred his vision, slipping down his cheeks as Wade pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, letting his lips linger. He moved down and kissed under his eyes, even though the skin there was soaked with tears. Another kiss was lightly pressed to his nose.

"It's okay," Wade whispered, lips barely brushing against Peter's. "I'm here. I'm not gonna leave." He leaned their foreheads together, Peter squeezing his hand tightly and fighting back sobs.

They stayed like that for an unknown amount of time, Wade gently hushing and covering Peter's face with butterfly kisses. Peter's crying quieted down to hiccupping sobs, but he stayed pressed against Wade, accepting the affection and clinging to his hand.

"Wade?"

"Hm?" the mercenary hummed, lips against Peter's temple.

"I don't think you turned on the stove."

Wade turned to see that yes, the stove wasn't on. "Damn it."

Peter laughed tearfully, wiping the remaining wetness from his cheeks and chin while Wade went and started boiling the water. He smiled goofily when he returned, slipping his arms around Peter's slim waist and nudging his nose along Peter's jawline. Peter shyly wound his arms around Wade's neck.

"You okay for now?" Wade asked, dorky grin morphing into a nicer crooked smile.

"Yeah," Peter assured him, running his knuckles almost unconsciously over the back of Wade's neck.

"I should probably warn you that you're never getting rid of me now," Wade said matter-of-factly. "I've been waiting for months to ask you out, and now that I got you I'm not letting go."

Peter giggled breathlessly, flustered by the attention and what Wade was saying. "I didn't know that," he managed to say.

"Seriously?" Wade playfully gasped. "You didn't see me staring at your cute butt? I could've sworn you caught me a few times." Peter shook his head, biting his lip. "Well, that doesn't really matter now—Jesus Christ, what is that?" He whipped around, reaching for the gun that usually rested at his side.

"It's the teakettle," Peter said, looking at him oddly. "It just means the water's ready."

"How do I stop it from screaming?" he yelled in frustration, turning the stove off and hovering over it. Peter came up and poured the water into the mug, making Wade sigh in pure relief.

"That was terrifying," Wade said seriously, going to the living room. He internally cheered when his actions earned another light chuckle Peter, the tension draining out of the teenage boy. The small victory made him ridiculously happy, his chest swelling to the point of bursting and hands twitching to touch. It occurred to Wade that he couldfinally touch him, that he wasn't going to get webbed to the wall for grabbing Peter's hand.

"I'm gonna go change," Peter said uncertainly, shifting under Wade's adoring gaze and motioning blindly to the stairs. "Uh, do you wanna pick out a movie? Or something?" Wade nodded, and Peter left to change.

Picking out a movie that seemed lighthearted from Gwen's large collection, he fiddled with the TV and the Blu-ray player until it started playing and then paused it. He grabbed the blankets from a chair and chucked them onto the couch, turning on a few lamps to light the room as the sun set. He nestled into the corner of the couch with the TV remote, draping the blankets over his lap and waiting for Peter to come back.

The teenager returned, wearing comfortable clothes and sipping at his tea. Peter hesitated, sitting unsurely next to Wade, fearing that he would get rejected. Wade put those fears to rest by hugging him close, fussing with the blanket so they were both snugly covered with them.

"This movie alright?" Wade asked, settling in and pressing play.

"It's fine," Peter said. He laid his head on Wade's shoulder, and the movie started.

By the time Gwen came back to the house, her eyes were rimmed with red but there was a grimly satisfied air hanging around her. Hours had passed, and Peter was splayed across Wade's chest, sleeping deeply.

He greeted her silently, watching Gwen's gaze melt at the sight of Peter. She crouched in front of them, running her fingers through Peter's messy hair. "How long's he been asleep?" she whispered.

"Coupla hours," Wade responded. "How, uh, did it go with Wolvy?"

"Great," she hummed. "He has a meeting tomorrow with Nick Fury to talk about putting Peter back on the team, and he's going in early so he can talk to Dr. Banner and Captain America about everything. Strength in numbers." Wade nodded absently, brow furrowing.

"Does Petey know that?"

"I mentioned that Director Fury and probably some of the team would have to know," she said, "while we were taking the pictures. He wasn't happy, but said I could." She scowled suspiciously at Wade. "What, you think I'd invade his privacy like that?"

"You did when you told me," Wade pointed out, shrinking under the intensity of her glare. "Um. Sorry. Forget I said anything."

She straightened her legs, pulling her shirt down from where it had ridden up. "I have schoolwork to do," she stated. "Can I leave Peter here with you?"

"Yeah," Wade said. "I'll get the little spidey up to his bed when he wakes up."

Gwen kissed Peter's forehead, wiping away the light pink lip-gloss that was left behind. "G'night, Peter," she cooed. She made sure to give the other boy one last warning glare before she left them, shutting off lights as she went.

Wade stroked Peter's hair, mimicking Gwen's earlier actions of kissing his forehead, and continued to watch the movie.

Peter's return to school came around too quickly.

There had been no official meeting yet between Peter and the rest of the Avengers, but he had gotten a politely apologetic email from Director Fury. Peter was welcome to join them on missions whenever he felt ready to return, and they'd have a meeting to discuss his school situation and clearance for telling Aunt May about his identity as Spiderman. There was also a message at the bottom that sternly told Peter that if a situation as this were ever to arise again, he was to immediately inform Fury himself, or one of his team members.

"He actually sent you an email," Wade had said, gobsmacked as he leaned over Peter's shoulder to read it for himself. "A personal email. Holy shit. What the hell did Logan do to him?"

Peter muttered something nonsensical, typing out a quick response before he lost his nerve and turned his attention to Wade.

Bruce showed up at Gwen's apartment a day after Peter read Director Fury's email, looking sheepish and asking Gwen if Peter was in.

"I'm not sure," Gwen said bluntly, glancing around the door to see Peter.

He shrugged, mouthing frantically, 'Ask him what he wants.' He crept closer as Gwen relayed the question.

"I-I was hoping we could get some coffee and talk," Bruce said. "To make sure he was doing okay, and that he had a chance to talk to someone." He backed up a step. "But it's all right if he doesn't want to. I'll talk to him whenever he comes back for a mission."

Gwen leaned back again, raising an eyebrow at Peter. Well?

Against his better judgment, Peter stepped out from behind the door. "Let me get my shoes."

Bruce took him to a small coffee shop nearby, sitting them in the far back and paying for Peter's coffee. Nothing was said for awhile, both unsure of where to begin, the noises of the coffee shop filling the space.

"I, uh, wanted to start off by apologizing to you, Peter," Bruce admitted, holding his coffee cup with both hands. He wryly smiled, adding, "But I think you're a bit sick people doing that, huh?"

Peter snorted. "A bit, yeah," he agreed. "But I guess it's the sentiment that matters."

"Well, I think what matters is that no one noticed that you were being violently bullied at school and that some of your team was harassing you." Peter blinked owlishly, not prepared for the amount of bitterness in Bruce's soft tone. The scientist coughed to hide his embarrassment. "I was really…upset when I found out. Steve's not very happy, either."

"Who told you?"

"Agent Coulson told us about the suspension," Bruce explained. "Something seemed off about the whole thing, so I did a little digging after I couldn't get into contact with you. And lo and behold, I found a police report with your statement and documentation of your bruises and some other cases concerning your violent classmates." He drank from his coffee cup. "The big guy nearly got out a few times—practically gave Steve a heart attack."

Peter swallowed convulsively, taken off guard by Bruce's last sentence. "Oh," he managed faintly.

Their conversation went on and eventually came to a close, Bruce needing to return to Stark Tower for a meeting and Peter needing to finish up his homework.

Bruce startled, eyes narrowing fractionally behind his glasses. "You're going back to school? When those guys are still there?"

Peter sighed heavily and said that yes, he was going back to school. Gwen and Wade had been very vocal concerning their disapproval of his return.

Gwen had asked him multiple times if he was sure that this was what he wanted; if he wanted to stay out of school for another week or transfer somewhere new, no one would think any less of him. The worry that creased her forehead only deepened when Peter adamantly told her that he was going to school, and that he would talk about transferring districts after the year finished.

In the privacy of Gwen's spare bedroom, though, when he was curled around his boyfriend in the middle of the night, Peter confessed his uncertainty to Wade. "I'm scared that everything's going to go back to how it was before," he shrugged, thumb stroking aimless patterns on Wade's scarred chest.

Wade clung to the sides of Peter's head, forcing him to look up at the mercenary's shining eyes. "It won't," he said forcefully. "I'll kill someone before that happens." Peter wasn't sure if he should find that flattering and disturbing, before deciding that it didn't matter.

Because for once, he actually had a swell of belief in his chest that things may be okay. And this surety grew when he told Director Fury, even more so when he called Steve and had the captain tell him he was a brave, if foolish, young man, earning a genuine smile.

It was an unsettling feeling to abruptly have everyone care for him, after being ignored for so many years. The uneasiness hadn't yet shifted over to the warm, fuzzy, loving emotion he knew he should be feeling, and the pessimistic part of him was still refusing to believe that the attention would last for long. It would fade, and he'd go back to being homeless, jobless and bullied at school. History would be put on loop, and the story would repeat until Peter lost it.

When the anxiety would be at it's worst and it felt like everything was closing in, Peter would stay up late into the night with Wade. The older man would hold him tenderly, carding his fingers tenderly through Peter's brown hair and being a rock, something physical for Peter to latch on to. He'd speak when Peter needed to hear someone and he'd stay silent when words were too much and made the world too fast. Peter would be able to breathe again and relax, but Wade wouldn't leave him until the morning, sneaking back to his apartment before Gwen and her roommate would awake.

Peter was sorely tempted to beg for Wade to come to the meeting with Director Fury, but he knew that that was one of the stupidest things he'd ever wanted. He adored Wade, truly he did, but his mouth would do more harm than good, and the mercenary would no doubt end up with SHIELD out for his head.

The meeting started out with just the two of them. He had offered to invite Aunt May, but the teenager refused. He didn't think he'd be able to deal with her in his current mental state. When things calmed down, and Peter was able to think about his aunt without feeling nauseous, then he'd talk to her. Fury accepted his choice without a fight.

Peter haltingly told his superior the problems with his team and school. Director Fury scribbled down the names of the boys at school and a few notes, asking clarifying questions softly when necessary. For most of it, though, Nick listened. He maintained his stoic façade the whole time, giving Peter no indication of what he was thinking.

Partway through, Steve knocked on the door and entered, wearing civilian clothing. He asked if he could sit in for the meeting, directing the question not at Fury but at Peter. Flustered, the teenager agreed, shifting in his seat as Steve took the chair next to him, hand drifting across Peter's shoulder. The meeting went on and ended with Fury stating that he would be having a word with the team, and that he'd work on the expulsion of the more troublesome classmates. Peter didn't complain.

Steve apologized tightly after the meeting, valiantly trying to reign in his emotions. "I didn't know," he said helplessly.

"I'm aware," Peter uttered sharply, pushing past the superhero and leaving the building. There was a twinge of guilt at the heartbroken look on Steve's face, but didn't necessarily want to say the word 'sorry.' He'd find some other way to express that he had forgiven his team leader, he decided as he entered the apartment.

A call came in the middle of the night from Agent Coulson, a terse request for him to join the other Avengers. Apparently, another crazy had found a spell book and had donned a costume to wreak havoc in downtown. Peter was struggling into his suit before the call was even finished, and was swinging across the city to the battle within minutes.

The sorcerer was cackling madly, as was appropriate for a villain like him, and was castling blue-tinted, wispy spells at the Avengers, who were struggling to keep up. All of them were fighting against the beasts he summoned, and Tony was behind a building, desperately trying to get a sticky blue substance out of his armor so he could move freely.

Peter didn't announce his presence right away. What if they didn't want them there? What if he was just called a distraction and kicked off the team again, this time once and for all? They all worked so well together, each knowing what to do and where to go and oh God Peter was never going to be as good as them, he shouldn't even try

Logan came flying seemingly out of nowhere, landing on the floating sorcerer. The robed man roared in anger, sending a wave of energy out to knock the mutant off. It was successful, but Wolverine managed to knock the spell book out of his hands. The sorcerer looked at him, shocked, and his magic started to waver. He started babbling out an incantation, working hard to get his defenses back up, and Peter leaped on the opportunity. He spun his webs expertly, tying the man up and gagging his mouth, halting the magic before it got going again. The teenager landed next to him as he fell onto the ground.

The team seemed stunned to actually see him there, but they composed themselves and hid it. Steve's face was glowing with pride, as was Tony's when he took off his mask. Natasha's face was as stoic as usual, escorting the struggling sorcerer to the waiting SHIELD van.

Logan clapped Peter on the shoulder, jerking forward with the force of it. "Good to have you back, kid," he said gruffly, turning around to help Natasha.

Behind his mask, a grin started to stretch over Peter's face.

The Avengers all had to report to the Stark Tower for a quick debrief of what happened, and so Peter could change back into his civilian clothing. He changed in the gym's locker rooms, Steve doing the same next to him.

Tony came in right as Peter was pulling on his shirt, breathless and relieved when he saw him.

"Peter," he said, forgoing the usual nicknames and giving Steve a quick peck in greeting. "God, I'm so glad you're okay. I've picked up my phone at least a dozen of times to call you but couldn't get the nerve. Can we talk? Right now? Please?"

"I can't tonight, Tony," Peter said. "It's a school night. I need some sleep."

"Tomorrow, then," the other threw out. His eyes expressed his earnest distress. "I really gotta talk to you."

Peter mumbled an agreement, and the relief radiating from Tony took him off guard. The superhero squeezed his forearm affectionately before leaving, giving his husband another kiss. The doors slid shut and Steve angrily made sure that Peter knew he didn't have any obligation to see him, that if he wasn't comfortable Steve would tell Tony off.

"I want to talk to him," Peter assured Steve.

And he did; Tony had been coarse and careless towards him, yes, but he was never purposefully cruel, like his schoolmates. Peter had always looked up to him, admiring his charm and intelligence, and wanted to mend their relationship to where they were at least acquaintances.

Peter returned home and slept for the few hours he could before he had to get up for school.

The whispers and stares started when he stepped foot on the school's property. No one approached him, choosing to stay a safe distance away while he rummaged through his defaced locker—more than one person had spray-painted degrading words across it's surface—and went to his classes. Flash and his buddies sneered at him the whole time, miming strangling him and drawing crude pictures of him being stabbed.

Flash, especially, seemed murderous, leaving a note on Peter's desk that read, "I'm going to kill you."

Inhale.

Peter forced himself to breathe, to just stay in his seat until the end of the day. He was close, so close to finishing his classes, and he had to show these assholes that he was going to actually do this. He tucked the note safely into his pocket, leaving a mental reminder to give it to Director Fury.

Exhale.

The final bell rang. Students poured into the hallways. Peter all but ran out, keeping a close eye for Flash or any of his little cronies, heading to Gwen's apartment. For once the universe was nice to him, and Peter wasn't jumped.

The front door closed behind him and Peter let himself fall apart, breathing in fast gasps and compulsively rubbing and scratching at his arms. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning heavily against the wall and hunching in on himself. Rough hands grabbed his wrists, coaxing them away from his reddened skin. Peter stared up at Wade helplessly, babbling out how everyone was right; he shouldn't have gone to school, he was stupid, stupid for thinking he'd be able to do it.

Wade let Peter get it all out, halting him whenever he tried to scratch at his arms ago and shushing him soothingly. Sweet words were murmured to Peter, and eased him through his anxiety attack. The mercenary prodded Peter to explain what had happened at school, prepared to go out and kill if someone had so much as laid a finger on his boyfriend.

"I'm still going back," Peter strangled out.

"No, Peter—"

"I'm going. I have to have something normal in my life, Wade. I'll get my schedule changed so I won't have Flash in any of my classes, I'll sit in the library all day if I have to, but I need to do this. I can't hide in my friend's house for the rest of my life."

Wade kissed him softly, saying that Peter could do whatever he needed to.

Tony sent him a long email that night, and Peter read it on his tablet in bed, Wade wrapped around him and snoring. It was one of the sweetest things Peter had ever heard or seen written from Tony. He apologized profusely in it, saying that he couldn't wait until the next day to get what he needed to say out. He swore that things were going to change, and that—if Peter wished it—he would give the police all of the footage he'd stolen that captured Flash's acts against him. I won't do anything you don't want, Peter, but Bruce and I really want you to take it to the police.

What really shocked him, though, was that at the end of the email, Tony offered Peter a place to stay.

Bruce told me that you were living with a friend right now, and I wanted you to know that you had other options and can always come stay with me. The Tower has way too many empty and useless rooms right now. And it makes sense that you should live with the rest of the team in case of emergencies. You'd have a whole floor to yourself, and could do whatever with it. But if you're not cool with that, I could rent an apartment nearby for you to stay at by yourself. Grandpa Steve'd have a ball if you were closer.

(Don't tell Steve I told you this, but he loves you a lot, Peter. He thinks of you as his son. I can't tell you how heartbroken he was when he found out about this whole thing. He barely slept the whole time you were gone. I have never seen him like that, in the whole time we've been together. If you could just talk to him, even if it's only to say 'hi,' it would make him feel so much better.)

Wow, this is starting to sound like I'm trying too hard. I guess I kind of am. I just want you to be happy and comfortable, Peter. Steve, Bruce, me, all of us. Clint and Nat do, too, in their own weird way. That's why they didn't want you on the team—they lost their childhood killing and fighting. They don't want that for you, too.

Peter put down the tablet and cuddled closer into Wade, processing what he'd read. The videos…he'd have to discuss that with Wade and Gwen. He'd definitely talk about moving to the tower with them, too, because that sounded pleasant. He'd love to be closer to his teammates, and to Steve. The part in Tony's email about Steve had struck a chord in him, and he desperately wanted to see him, talk to him, make him stop feeling bad.

Mulling over his thoughts, Peter abruptly realized that he had control over his life for the first time in a long time. The control he'd so desperately been seeking, going as far as harming himself for, was finally there. Peter could decide where he wanted to live, what he wanted to do about school…

That feeling of hope was back in his chest. Peter knew there was still so much to deal with, and that he wasn't close to getting over the anxiety and depression. it no longer felt like he was standing in front of a cliff thousands of feet high, expected to climb it with no powers and just his body, though. The cliff was shorter now, and he had the proper equipment to climb it.

Listening to Wade breathe and mumble nonsense, Peter smiled.


And that's it. It feels weird to actually be done with this, but satisfying.

I didn't want to give Peter the stereotypical 'and they lived happily forever' ending, but felt like I should at least put him on the path of getting there.

If you guys have any ideas of what I should write next, spideypool or otherwise, then please, please, please send me a message on my tumblr! I finally have time to write and I'm really eager to do so!