Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Stories in this Fandom are works of fan fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Recognized characters, events, incidents belong to Marvel Comics / Walt Disney Company <br>
Holding Back - 21. Chapter 21
The next day, after making absolutely certain that no one suspicious is watching his building, Wade takes Peter home. He’s managed to find some clothes that aren’t catastrophically big on the younger man, and they both dress in civvies and take the subway to Peter’s place. Once there, Wade changes the dressings on Peter’s bullet wounds (they’re healing nicely despite his inferior regenerative powers) and tucks him into bed. Then, after concluding that Peter’s fridge is painfully low on tasty food, he goes shopping.
He buys bread and cheese and milk, salami and bacon, flour and sugar, eggs, pasta, roast chicken, taco stuff (because that’s just a given) and everything else he can think of.
Are we planning on fattening up Peter?
The Spider-Man thing gives him high metabolism; I don’t think we can.
‘We’re keeping him fed so he can heal,’ Wade mutters under his breath, and the clerk looks at him funny while bagging his purchases, as if she wasn’t already trying not to stare at Wade’s scarred face, just visible under his hood. Wade pretends he doesn’t notice, pays the woman and thanks her.
When he gets back to Peter’s apartment, he puts everything away, gets changed, and starts bustling around the place to clean. While it’s fairly tidy, Peter obviously doesn’t have much time for housework, so Wade sets about doing dishes, sweeping the floors (he doesn’t want to wake Peter, so he doesn’t use the vacuum), and has even had time to do a couple rounds of laundry by the time he hears movement in the bedroom.
A few minutes later, just as Wade is dusting the bookshelf, Peter appears in the doorway, wearing stripy pyjama bottoms and nothing else. He looks less pale than he did yesterday, and doesn’t seem to have bled through his dressings.
‘Man, I slept like the—’ He pauses when he sees Wade, and blinks. ‘Is . . . Is that a French maid outfit?’
‘Pretty hot, right?’ Wade gives a twirl. He’s wearing white stockings and long white gloves with the gothic lolita-ish black dress and white apron. Usually he’d wear his mask, but he knows Peter likes to see his face (even if that makes absolutely no sense), so instead he’s wearing a curly, platinum blonde wig that he got to wear as part of a Marilyn Monroe outfit a while back.
Oh, we are so hot!
And pretty. Don’t forget pretty.
‘Where’d you get the feather duster?’
Wade shrugs. ‘It came with the outfit. Finding one in my size was a chore, I’ll tell ya, but in the end I only had to modify this baby a tiny bit to make it fit. Luckily, I’m handy with a needle and thread.’
Peter continues to look dumbfounded for all of five seconds, before he smiles and sits down in the couch. ‘It looks cute on you.’
Our Petey called us cute! Yay!
Wade grins. ‘I packed it on a whim when we left my place this morning,’ he says, continuing to dust the shelf. ‘A sexy nurse outfit would probably have been more appropriate, what with me looking after you and all, but I’m not terribly fond of playing doctor. I mean, medical shit kinda freaks me out, you know? Hospitals still give me the creeps . . . All clinical and sterile . . .’
‘I never really got the sexy nurse thing, myself,’ Peter admits. ‘Like, “Ooh, let me stick you with this needle and give you medicine that make you super groggy!” Yeah, real hot.’
‘Right?’ Wade shakes his head. ‘Now, a maid on the other hand . . .’ He turns to Peter, adopting a subservient pose with his eyes downcast and his shoulders low. Pitching his voice up half an octave, he says meekly, ‘I’ve finished cleaning your home, Master Parker. Is there anything else I can do for you?’ He cocks his head slightly to one side and glances up at Peter shyly. ‘Make you lunch, perhaps? Wash your feet?’ He looks away again. ‘Suck your dick?’
When he looks back at Peter again, he finds him biting his lip. Peter seems to take a deep breath. ‘Start with lunch, maybe?’ he says. ‘I’m actually kind of hungry . . .’
Wade gives him a grin. ‘Of course! I’ll make us a fucking mountain of sandwiches, dude. But first . . .’ He approaches Peter and takes a blanket from the armrest of the couch. ‘Lean forward.’ He drapes the blanket around Peter’s bare shoulders and then kisses his forehead. ‘There you go, Master Parker. Can’t have you getting cold!’
Peter smiles, and Wade thinks he notes a faint pink tinge in his cheeks before he heads over to the kitchen to make them some sandwiches.
‘With the state of my kitchen, I don’t really have much cause to cook,’ he says conversationally. ‘That’ll be my excuse when this turns out shit.’
Peter laughs. ‘How badly can you screw up a sandwich?’
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ Wade puts on a pot of coffee while he messily layers mayo, lettuce, tomato and salami between slices of white bread until he has created the promised mountain of food. He returns to Peter in the couch with a plate piled high with sandwiches, before returning to the kitchen to fetch the coffee pot and two mugs.
‘Dude, what are you even talking about? Best sandwiches ever!’ Peter digs in with enthusiasm, and Wade is glad to see he seems to have his appetite back.
Think he’s got an appetite for other things as well?
Don’t be an idiot! He’s still hurt.
Yeah, but we are wearing this super hot outfit . . .
Wade ignores the boxes (he seems to be doing that more and more these days) and instead chatters on to Peter about everything that crosses his mind. Soon all the sandwiches are gone, with Wade having somehow managed to eat about two thirds of them while keeping up a constant stream of words.
‘So, what do you wanna do now, baby boy?’ he asks, picking up the empty plate and carrying it to the sink.
Peter shrugs. ‘We could watch a movie or something.’
‘Ooh! Yes! You got any Disney?’
Peter hums thoughtfully. ‘Check the shelf by the TV. I think I might have Beauty and the Beast . . .’
Wade chews his chapped lip. ‘Yeah, something else, then.’
‘Don’t like that one?’
Wade shrugs one shoulder and looks away. ‘Nah, it’s a good movie, but . . . I guess it always struck a little close to home, ya know? Only I won’t ever turn back into a handsome prince.’
‘Hey.’ Peter’s tone is sharp, and Wade forces himself to meet his gaze only to find that it is as soft and kind as it has ever been. ‘You’re a handsome prince to me. Always will be. Or, you know, princess, as the case may be.’ He eyes Wade’s skirt pointedly and grins.
Wade smiles in spite of himself and walks over to the DVD shelf. Studying the titles for a few moments he finally picks out Airplane! because that one fucking never gets old, and puts it on. He sits in the couch and is extremely happy to find that Peter snuggles up to him, resting his cheek on Wade’s chest and playing with the lace on the bodice of his maid outfit while Wade flips through the menus.
Wade spends most of the movie doing a quote-along, and botches the lines on purpose after an early mistake made Peter laugh.
This is an old movie, though. Like, does he even get these jokes?
Shh, you’re gonna make us feel old!
Only a few minutes remain of the movie when Wade realises that Peter has fallen asleep in his arms. By the time the credits roll he considers whether to just cover him in more blankets and let him nap on the couch, but eventually comes to the decision that he will be more comfortable in his bed. So Wade carefully lifts Peter and carries him bridal style into his bedroom. He tucks him in and is about to head out into the kitchen to get started on dinner when Peter grabs his wrist.
‘Hey,’ he murmurs sleepily, blinking up at Wade. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Just gonna make us some dinner, Petey-Pie,’ Wade assures him with a smile.
‘Okay.’ Peter lets go of his wrist. ‘Kiss?’
That’s it. Our heart is seriously going to melt.
Wade bends forward and places a chaste kiss on Peter’s lips. ‘Now, you get some rest, Master Parker. Let ol’ DP take care of you.’ He straightens up and walks towards the door.
‘Your legs look seriously hot in that outfit, you know,’ says Peter softly. ‘Not that your legs aren’t always amazing.’
Wade chuckles. ‘Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere with me, baby boy.’
‘’S not flattery if it’s true . . .’
Wade turns around and is about to say something more when he realises that Peter’s eyes are closed, and the steady rise and fall of his chest tells him that he’s fallen asleep again. He tip toes out of the room and quietly shuts the door behind him.
* * *
‘I feel pretty, oh so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and GAY! And I pity any girl who isn’t me today . . .’
We love that song!
Yes, that’s why we’re singing it.
Wade flips the steaks and sprinkles some salt on them. When the juices start to flow he takes one of them out of the pan (he likes his steak carried through a warm room) and flips the other a second time, sprinkling salt onto the other side.
‘I feel charming, oh so charming! It’s alarming how charming I feel! And so pretty that I hardly can believe I’m real!’
‘You look pretty, too,’ says a voice, and Wade turns around and grins.
‘Baby boy! You’re awake!’
Peter is standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He laughs. ‘Hard to sleep through that, really.’
Wade shrugs. ‘Didn’t mean to wake ya, but dinner is almost done. You like your steak medium, right?’
Peter nods and comes over to lean against the counter island, resting his elbows on the countertop. He’s put on a worn, grey t-shirt with a washed out, unintelligible band logo over his pyjama pants. ‘Mm, smells amazing!’
‘I got potatoes baking in the oven, and greens! Gotta eat your greens, Petey, so you grow up big and strong! Spidey widey Petey-Pie kissed the girls and made them cry, kissed the girls and made them cry, kissed the girls and made them high . . . I’m not so systematic, it’s just that I’m an addict foooor your loooooove!’
Peter raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re in a good mood.’
Wade turns off the stove and flips the second steak onto a plate. He sprinkles them both with black pepper and turns to Peter. ‘How could I not be? My beautiful boyfriend is safe and healing, and we’re about to have a spectacular meal together.’ He leans across the island and kisses Peter gently on the lips. ‘I’ve got everything I could possibly want.’
Wade gets the potatoes out of the oven and piles their plates high with food before carrying them over to the table. As they sit down, Peter reaches over and fingers a strand of the platinum blonde wig.
‘What colour was your hair?’ he asks suddenly. ‘You know, before . . .’
Wade picks up his knife and fork. ’Depends on the writer, or the cartoonist, I guess . . . Some of ‘em like me blonde and blue-eyed, others make me darker, like who knows what Marvel canon even is, man . . .’
Peter’s giving us the look. The ‘what the hell is he talking about’ look.
Wade clears his throat. ‘It was brown. Medium brown, lighter than yours.’
I think that’s canon, actually.
It’s also basically Ryan Reynolds.
Peter nods slowly. ‘I can picture that, with your eyes.’
Wade hesitates, cutting into his steak. ‘I . . . I could get a wig of the right colour.’
Peter smiles and shakes his head. ‘Not for my sake.’ He takes a bite of his steak and shuts his eyes with a groan of pleasure. ‘That,’ he declares, ‘is the best fricking steak I’ve eaten in, like, ever!’ He takes another bite, and the look on his face is pure bliss. ‘Anyway,’ he continues after a moment, ‘I’m asking because I’m curious, not because I want you to be different.’
Wade isn’t entirely certain that he believes it, but Peter’s words make him all warm on the inside regardless, and for several minutes they eat in comfortable silence.
‘I’ve called in sick for the next couple of days,’ says Peter. ‘Can’t run around taking pictures or doing complicated lab work until I heal properly . . . I should probably try and get back to attending my lectures as soon as possible, though.’
‘Aww, you’ll catch up on what you’ve missed. You’re my clever little Spider-boy!’ Wade grins. ‘You’re Dr. Genius McSmartypants!’
When they’ve finished eating, Peter sits back and sighs contentedly. ‘Mm, thank you for the awesome dinner, Wade.’
Wade gathers the plates. ‘Anything for you, studmuffin.’ He clears the table and returns to find Peter’s eyes on him. ‘So,’ says Wade slowly, ‘what can I do for you now, Master Parker?’
Peter licks his lips and meets Wade’s gaze. ‘Well . . . I believe you mentioned something about sucking my dick.’
Wade feels a slow smile stretch over his marred features. ‘Your wish is my command.’
Also, I do not own West Side Story or Georgy Porgy by Toto any more than I own Deadpool or Spider-Man. Wade just really likes to sing. He made up those new lyrics for Georgy Porgy in my head weeks ago and has refused to leave me alone unless I put them in the story... He's a vindictive motherfucker.
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Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Stories in this Fandom are works of fan fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Recognized characters, events, incidents belong to Marvel Comics / Walt Disney Company <br>
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