{Oops i said I'd do fluff but... sorry?}
{Canon? I don't know her}

Peter falls to his knees the moment he's through the bedroom window. It had been a rough patrol night. Robberies on top of muggings on top of a hostage situation on top of an attempted kidnapping. No, it hadn't been easy at all. Luckily, he made it through the hours with only one person getting hurt. Himself. Not that he minded too much. It wasn't too different than every other night to get hurt on patrol, and Karen said he probably won't need stitches which is a definite plus. 

He taps the spider on his chest, letting the suit fall off his aching body. He lets out a sigh as he rolls his muscles. 

The front door to their apartment opens a moment later with a yell of 'honey, I'm home!'

"In here, Wade!" Peter calls back. Wade doesn't like patrolling with Peter for the sole reason that he's constantly terrified of hurting someone in front of the younger man, knowing Peter hates it when he does that. He still takes jobs as a mercenary, but Peter can't blame him, it's the only thing that keeps the roof over their head. Peter has a job in photography, but that barely pays for groceries. 

Peter stumbles up to his feet, sorting through the closet to try to find something to protect him from the chill that runs down his spine.

The bedroom door pops open and Wade walks in all smiling and cocky, but that fades faster than Peter can even greet him.

"Shit. You don't look too good, baby boy," Wade murmurs, frozen in the doorway. It's not that he hadn't seen Peter's wounds after patrol and these are nowhere near as bad as some of the ones he's seen before, but that doesn't stop the panic from seeping into Wade's lungs.

"Yeah. Took a couple hits from some jerk who thought mugging was cool. Turns out, he had some wicked stick things to fight with. Plus there was a big robbery going down in an electronics store and I ran out of web fluid partway through which was not the easiest thing in the world- Are you okay?" Peter says, stopping his rambling when he notices just how pale Wade's gone.

"Just... Sometimes I forget- I forget that you get hurt like this," Wade murmurs, frowning. His boyfriend is still only in his boxers, a pair of sweatpants forgotten on top of the dresser. There are bruises lining his ribs and stomach, contrasting his soft pale skin. Normally, Wade can admire Peter's beauty for hours at a time. Now, he can barely glance at the galaxy of skin without wanting to throw up. 

Peter tilts his head in confusion, lips pulling down into a frown. "What do you mean? It doesn't hurt, Wade. This is pretty good for a patrol night. No gunshot wounds or stab wounds or anything."

Wade knows that. He knows that it's normal for Peter to get hurt on patrol. He knows that this isn't anything out of the ordinary. He knows that bruises are better than the alternative. But it makes Wade's heart ache with the idea of Peter being hurt.

Sometimes Wade forgets that Peter's not immortal or invincible. As much as Peter may look like a god, Wade knows Peter's not. Peter gets hurt. And Peter will die one of these days. Peter could die any of these days while out on patrol and that thought makes Wade want to wrap Peter up in all the blankets they own and cuddle him until the world ends because that way, Peter will always be safe. 

"Wade?" Peter asks, eyes big with worry and confusion. He looks almost on the verge of scared with how his eyebrows draw in and his beautiful eyes stare up at Wade and he doesn't move to walk any closer. Wade knows that, but it doesn't stop him from throwing his hands up in anger. He knows he shouldn't be angry, but he doesn't know how else to deal with emotions. 

"You just- You just- You have things to lose, Peter!" The words don't make sense, but his brain is too jumbled for things to make sense. He's never been much of an emotions sort of person. He's always just been layers of humour to cover up his self-doubt. He's always just been Deadpool, the mercenary. He's never been Wade, Peter's boyfriend. And he's been through most of the motions of being a boyfriend like the attachment and the anxiety and the protective needs and the desperation and the love. But not whatever this is.

"What? Wade, what's going on?" Peter asks, brown irises staring at Wade as though he can see straight into Wade's soul. 

Wade huffs in annoyance, grabbing at the door frame to ground himself.

"You go out there like you've got nothing to lose, Peter!" Wade shouts like it's some big revelation. He knew this before he even started dating the hero. He knows this.

Peter flinches at the loud noise- Guilt wells in Wade's stomach like acid, but he pushes it away to be dealt with later- and he shakes his head in confusion.

"Calm down, babe. What's going on? You don't need to be angry, remember?" Peter says carefully and Wade hates that he thinks he needs to walk on eggshells around him.

It had been something they had gone through a lot when Wade was learning all the new emotions that comes with dating someone. Sure, he'd dated before, but nothing serious, nothing like Peter. 

Wade forces himself to take a deep breath through his nose, let it out through his mouth and then let his head fall to his hands. 

"Wade? What is this about? What's wrong?" Peter asks, just as patient and gentle as ever.

Wade looks up and he hates himself for the tears threatening to spill over. "You go out there like you've got nothing to lose. Like nobody would care if you got shot. Like it doesn't matter what happens to you. I know you try not to, but this still happens. And... I don't know, Petey. It hurts."

"It hurts that I act like I don't have you to lose?" Peter questions, taking a few easy steps towards Wade.

"No.. Well, yes, but no. It hurts that you act like I don't have you to lose. It hurts that you think that you can get beat up and nobody's going to blink an eye because it's normal. It's not normal. You could... You could die out there and there's nothing I could do about it." Wade says it like he's accusing Peter of something. He doesn't mean to, but it happens anyway and it feels like he's drowning in this new painful emotion that goes along with dating a selfless superhero like Peter. 

A quiet 'oh' slips from Peter and it's a few moments of silence before Peter's arms are wrapping around his neck tightly, soft kisses planted to his shoulder and neck and collarbone. 

"I'm not going to die out there, Wade. I swear. I know I act like it, but I know you're here and I wouldn't let anything stop me from getting home to you. I'll always come home to you. I promise," Peter whispers like he's telling a secret to Wade. It helps, but it doesn't ease the pain that's eating him alive.

"What if you don't? What would I do if I lost you?" Wade asks. His voice is damp and he's sure his face is too, but his arms are finally reacting to Peter's hug and wrapping around Peter protectively, squeezing the small man into his chest.

"You won't," Peter says, but the certainty isn't enough because Wade can feel the scarring on Peter's shoulderblade from a recent gunshot wound. If that had been just a few inches over, it could've killed Peter.

"You don't know that," Wade murmurs, tucking his head against the crook of Peter's neck and leaning into the soft kisses pressed to his temple, ignoring the tug of his back muscles of leaning down so far. 

"I do know that, Wade. I'm going to come home to you every single day. I swear to you on everything I have. I'm going to come home to you. Somedays, yeah, I'm not going to be in good shape. Somedays, I might have to stop by the tower for medical attention. I'll get hurt, but I'm not going to die anytime soon, okay?" Peter says, curls tickling Wade's neck.

"You're not immortal, Peter. You're not invincible. You're not a god. You're not- You can't be sure of that. You can't just... You just throw yourself at danger to make sure that everyone gets home to their family, but you're my family, Peter," Wade sounds broken, voice trembling and barely above a whisper, hot air brushing against Peter's neck. 

Peter's back trembles beneath his hands and Wade pulls the smaller man tighter against his chest, hoping he's not pressing on any bruises. 

His voice is thick when he speaks again, "I don't... I can't give up Spider-Man, Wade. You know that."

And Wade does know that. He knows that better than he knows most things. Half a year ago, they got into an argument over Spider-Man and Peter finally explained Why. The big Why. Of Uncle Ben and the little guy and needing to make sure the city is safe and not being able to sleep with spidey-senses letting him know of every danger happening around him. 

"I'm not asking you to," Wade replies, tears spilling down Peter's shoulder and down his sloping spine, catching in the little dips of his muscles and drying out before they reach his hips. 
"I'd never ask you to do that. It's just... I can't- I just- I can't-"

"Can't what?" Peter's voice is small as though he's scared of what the answer might be. 

"Can't... I don't know how to be without you. I wake up and you're there, we eat together, and we watch Netflix together, and we criticize all those people on Masterchef as though we could really cook better, and we go shopping together, and you get all excited when your favourite chocolate bars go on sale and I let you buy a whole bunch and you promise you'll save them, but they're all eaten by the next day. And I get to listen to you ramble about your photography or your little nerdy things or about Spider-Man things. And I get to cook with you even though neither of us are very good. And I get to have food fights with you, and clean the house with you, and dance with you, and watch the rain with you to count the seconds between the thunder and lightning, and I get to patch you up after patrol, and I get to cuddle with you, and I get you, Peter. I somehow got you, and I no longer know how to be without you."

Peter's crying. Wade knows that better than most things. Wade knows it in the way his small back trembles beneath Wade's calloused, scarred hands. In the way the tears make the hem of his shirt wet. 

"You say that like you think I could be any other way," Peter replies thickly. He shakes his head against Wade's shoulder, a hysterical sob bubbling in his throat. Wade knows Peter gets emotional after patrols. He knows Peter's more susceptible to crying or breaking down, especially after bad patrol nights. This is no exception, but Wade knows Peter would've cried whether it was before or after his patrol. "You leave for those missions and I suddenly don't know what to do with myself because you're just... You're not there and some nights I lie in bed and I cry and wish I could call you because I hate knowing you're gone even though I know you'll come back to me."

"Is that what I'm supposed to do?" Wade sounds angry again. He doesn't mean it. The pain is still drowning him, crashing over him in new waves every time he gets his head above water to breathe. "You want me to just lie in bed and cry while you're on patrol every night?"

Peter suddenly pulls away from the hug and Wade hates how sad and desperate Peter looks with his tear-streaked rosy cheeks and wet eyelashes and bloodshot eyes.

"Fuck no, Wade. I never want you to do that. I just want you to know that you're not the only one who worries. I worry about you even when I know you'll just regenerate and come back to me. I still worry."

"What do we do?" Wade asks. He knows he sounds small and he knows he's throwing all of his trust at someone who won't have all the answers. He knows that, but it doesn't make him stop. Doesn't make him regret it. "What are we supposed to do?"

"We... We spend more time together and stay busy while we're apart," Peter replies, forcing a reassuring smile to try to make his tears stop. "We just... We deal. We figure out how to deal. It's either that or..."

"Don't say it," Wade practically begs and he knows it's stupid. It's stupid to hate Peter even suggesting the idea of breaking up. Especially over something like this. 

Peter obliges to the wish, fists curling into Wade's t-shirt. 

"We deal with it," Peter repeats. 

Wade knows Peter's hurting and he knows that Peter knows he's hurting. Wade knows he'd never trade all the love and affection and adoration for a release from the drowning. Wade knows it's worth the worrying. He knows this better than most things.

"We deal," Wade echoes like it's really going to make a difference. And then, with more meaning than the rest, the only thing that he really knows better than anything, "I love you."

A smile breaks through Peter's crying, big and bright like Wade's his whole world. Wade knows that Peter's his whole world, but most days he forgets the feelings are mutual.

"I love you too," Peter murmurs, quickly tucking himself back into Wade's chest.

"Cuddles, Netflix, and Pizza?" Wade suggests, mouth dry after crying that much.

Peter smiles again, more lazy and soft than the first one, looking up at Wade with an adoring expression. "Fuck, I love you."

"You already said that, baby boy, but I know. I'm just that great."

Peter laughs at that. A little too loud and not quite right, but they're both tired, emotionally exhausted and Wade just wants to curl up with his wonderful boyfriend that's pulled him out of the water, no longer drowning, and watch Masterchef and shout at the TV when somebody inevitably messes up and see who can eat more pizza and fall asleep full and happy and warm and in love. 

Because Wade knows that. He gets confused a lot and he still doesn't understand how everything's supposed to work with emotions and relationships. But he knows, better than he knows anything, that he loves Peter with everything he has. 

____
I know I said I'd write fluff and this definitely isn't fluff but it ends happy so don't come for me

I'll write real spideypool fluff someday maybe for Valentine's Day idk 

Look at me updating twice wowie

Lyss