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Peter was staying over at the Tower that weekend.
May was out of town, and Mr. Stark was too much of a mother hen to let him stay home alone, because, "you don't know what could happen, a murderer could break in or your building could catch on fire or there could be an earthquake or you could fall out of the window -"
It's not like he had spider powers and was one of the most dangerous people in New York, or anything.
Peter reached the tower and headed straight for the living room, where he found Clint and Bucky engrossed in an intense match of Mario Kart, Sam watching. They were obsessed with Mario Kart. Clint won and Bucky tried to choke him with his metal arm and only stopped when Sam punched him in the throat and lectured him while he lay gagging. Clint laughed. Bucky lunged again. Sam pried him away and tossed him out of the room like an misbehaved puppy.
The scents wafting from the kitchen smelled like something was burning and dying, so Peter assumed Vision was cooking.
The wall was dented in two places and Peter heard a sizzle and a crash and Wanda's voice yowling in frustration.
Just another normal Friday afternoon (Friday like the day, not FRIDAY like Mr. Stark's only true friend).
There was another figure on the couch at the far end of the room. Matt was wrapped in slightly red-stained bandages and had a cast over his right arm, as well as a nasty assortment of bruises and cuts, complete with a black eye.
It wasn't really surprising. Stark Tower had basically become the Vigilante Rest Station after Peter had dragged several of his accomplices there to get patched up after a particularly rough mission. Supers from all over New York came to get medical attention when they needed it and couldn't go to a hospital for fear of being exposed. There was even a wing of guest bedrooms in the living quarters near Peter's room dedicated to them.
Peter told him he was a good person. Stark complained that he was a superhero, not a babysitter. Peter assured him he was the one being babysat, by Pepper.
"Quit getting hurt, then," Peter told Matt.
"I'm going to have to tell everyone I slipped in the shower again. All my friends are under the impression that I have a very slippery shower."
"Pray some more, then," Peter suggested. Matt scowled. He was a very devoted Catholic. Peter was pretty sure his magic Catholicism powers of unshakable faith were all that were keeping him alive by now. "The day you decide to develop some common sense will be a glorious day indeed. Too bad it would take a small miracle."
Someone reached around Peter's face from behind him and pinched his cheeks.
Wade.
He then decided to invite himself into their personal space and plopped down on the two-person couch, barely missing Matt's lap. He tried to hug them both at once but only succeeded in falling off the couch.
"You smell like blood." Matt told him. "Go take a shower."
"I will if you do it with me," Wade said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively over Peter's head. Matt shoved him away, then he and Peter scooted into the far side of the couch to avoid the wet red butt print Wade had made.
---
The night passed mostly uneventfully. Matt became the undefeated champion of Mario Kart, which infuriated Clint and Bucky. ("You're blind, you don't even know what's happening on the screen!")
For dinner, Vision served some sort of blob creature monstrosity that he tried to pass off as meatloaf.
They ended up ordering takeout (tacos, by Wade's insistence).
Peter then attempted to chug a goblet full of what he thought was apple juice before Mr. Stark made a high-pitched screeching sort of noise and knocked it out of his hands, then gathered the entire team and gave a lecture about leaving beer lying around where poor unsuspecting teenagers could mistake it for apple juice and attempt to chug it.
It was at this time that the team called it a night.
---
Peter was not a morning person.
He was woken at the ungodly hour of ten AM by, not an alarm clock like a normal, sane person (but then, Peter was by no means normal and was pretty sure he wasn't even fully sane by this point), but by a pigeon.
Claude was outside his window. And he was hungry.
Peter flipped over and ignored him.
Claude began banging his beak against the window pane and shrieking.
Peter grumbled and grouched incoherently but eventually got up and picked up the box of Cheerios he kept on his nightstand. He opened the window and hurled them out as far as he could, just to be petty, then glared at the bird as he shot off after the treats. He ignored the yelps from down below.
Well. Now that Peter was awake, he might as well stay awake. He sat around for half an hour hating the world before brushing his teeth sluggishly and going down, not even bothering to change out of his sweatpants and t-shirt.
He made himself a cup of coffee and sat down to hating the world some more. Matt soon came down, and they sat to hate the world together.
Peter had gone through four mugs of coffee (which was okay for him, with his enhanced metabolism) when he and Matt decided to go down to the other living room together (Mr. Stark being Mr. Stark, he just had to show off his super-stinking-rich-ness by having about twenty living rooms) to escape the people that were slowly trickling in, so they could hate the world in peace.
Peter filled two more mugs with coffee to take down. Both for him, obviously.
Thank FRIDAY for automatic coffee dispensers. Stark Tower was full of unimaginable luxuries. Like Roombas.
Peter and Matt didn't talk. They had a peaceful morning routine where they would drink too many caffeinated beverages in sullen silence together as they each ruminated their past failures and wallowed in misery and self-deprecation. Peter found it very relaxing.
That is, until stupid Wade burst into the room.
Wade was a morning person. Peter and Matt, as previously established, were not. At the moment, they were basically living zombies.
Wade was chipper and chatty and full of energy. He carried a plate full of pancakes with a bottle of 100% Canadian maple syrup (when he saw their Aunt Jemima's, he freaked out and called it a 'disgustingly inferior death-potion of shame' and refused to speak to them for a week).
"Petey-pie! Matty-boo-boo! We meet again! It is so nice to see you again on this lovely day, don't you think?" He set the plate down between them and ruffled Peter's hair.
"Wade, shut up. I'm still trying to work out how to be a fully functional human being. I'm in the especially homicidal stage at the moment, so I suggest you get out if you value your life."
"Aww, Petey, sweetie, you're so adorable when you're tired! Homicidal is a good look on you. I'm so proud!" He pulled Peter up into a hug.
Peter clutched his coffee like a lifeline and glared at nothing.
"And you too, Matty darling. Cheer up! Don't be such a wet blanket. What you two need is a nice stack of fluffy pancakes - here, you're welcome, thank me later - doused in maple syrup - here, the good kind, not the cheap pitiful imitation you had before - and you'll be set to go! Petey, quit glaring at me, you look like an angry kitten. Cute, but -"
Peter had heard enough, thank you very much. He'd been having a perfectly terrible morning and he did not need it to get any worse. He squirmed in Wade's grip and kicked him in the shin hard enough to hear bones crack.
"Ow, Petey, that was mean, why you gotta bully me like this? You and Matty-Matt are always ganging up on me and I for one find that totally unfair -"
He was cut off once again when Peter sighed and snapped his hips around to twist his body and land a solid kick upside Wade's chin, hard enough to send him flying across the room and crashing heavily into the opposite wall and creating a dent. He didn't even spill a drop of his coffee.
Peter rejoined Matt at the bench. "Morning people, am I right?" He huffed.
Matt nodded in agreement and cocked his head. "I can't hear his heartbeat anymore. I think you killed him, Pete."
"Well, that was the intention, was it not?"
Matt ruffled his hair with pride. "He deserved it."
Peter sat down and slurped his brown bean juice.
The door opened again and Clint entered, a supremely annoyed expression on his face. He took in Matt and Peter's twin glares and followed their gaze to Wade's corpse. "All right, who killed Deadpool again?"
"He was being a morning person," Peter said defensively.
Clint nodded slowly and backed out of the room.
Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He could hear the sound of Wade's bones mending from across the room, as he revived and started to breathe again. The first thing Wade did once he was fully healed and conscious was walk up to Peter smiling and cheerful, steps light and bouncy.
Ugh.
"Good job, Pete! That was a nice one. You're gonna be terrifying when you grow up! Actually, you're kinda already terrifying. I mean, you just killed be with a kick, so..."
Peter groaned and knocked his head against the wall. He got up and walked purposefully towards the door. Anything to get away from this annoying morning person and weird disgusting happiness.
He glared at Wade as he opened the door. "If you ever try and have a productive conversation with me before ten thirty ever again, I will strangle you with a shoelace and beat your corpse with a celery stalk, you repulsive morning person." And he slammed the door.
---
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry, I'm a terrible person, I'm sorry -"
"Peter," Wade insisted. "I told you, it's fine."
"- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry -"
Wade sighed and gave up. Peter hovered over him, looking almost to the point of tears. Matt determinedly ignored them both.
Tony lifted an eyebrow, amused. "He really is a different person in the morning, huh?"