Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had happened fast. That was really the only information that Peter had for a while. He had to piece everything else together by himself. Wade is superhuman in some aspects, but not all of them. He doesn’t have heightened senses like Peter does, nor is his reaction speed anything like Peter’s. He has the upper hand on the average person, with all the training he’s had in his life, and the obvious factor that he is a mercenary. At the end of the day, Wade is still just human. Any strength or endurance he has is a result of training and his body being pushed to achieve peak performance.

But even Peter with his heightened senses, with his inhuman reflexes and his spidey sense, he still cops a bullet now and then. Near-death scenarios that would have been certain death if he weren’t who he was. Weeks laid up in bed from a close call that he shouldn’t have walked away from. Peter doesn’t take his powers for granted, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that Wade isn’t as lucky. He only walks away because he can heal, because he can’t die. Take away his healing factor, and Wade Wilson is just a man.

And so no matter how much training Wade has, no matter how many close calls or lucky breaks he gets, he cannot react faster than a bullet. And the worst thing is not knowing if it was meant for him, or if it hit its target true.

Peter wasn’t there, and maybe if he had been, he could have done something, but that isn’t something that they can change. Even without being there, he can imagine all too easily what went down. The blissful unawareness one second, and pure chaos and pain the next. Maybe the gunshot wasn’t even heard, but he can still imagine the ring of it in his ears. The blood, the final breath being wrenched from her body before she fell.

Peter closes his eyes and takes in a shuddering breath. There’s no way that he could understand it all. He can imagine all he wants, and it’s horrible, and it makes his gut churn. But he can’t understand. He wasn’t there; he didn’t experience it. And he didn’t have a daughter.

This wasn’t how he imagined he’d meet Emily. Wade called her by her last name, Preston, and so Peter didn’t even know her first name until today. It was hard to meet someone for the first time because a child had been killed. Peter didn’t know what to say at first, because how do you introduce yourself while someone’s world is falling apart?

The silence is uncomfortable, but expected. They don’t know each other, and they’re both mourning, even if Peter’s pain will never compare to her heartache. Emily took Ellie in for Wade because he couldn’t be the parent she needed him to be, and Preston understood Wade, maybe better than Peter ever will. Once you’ve been trapped in someone’s head, secrets don’t exist anymore.

“I wish I’d known her better,” Peter admits, feeling unease in his gut. He’s known Wade for years by this point, and their relationship is strong and steady, but Ellie wasn’t around much. When she was, Wade always wanted to keep his focus on her, which often led to them being out together. Peter never minded; Ellie deserved the time with her father.

And Wade was doing better; he was putting the effort in, and they could all see it. Peter was fine with him wanting that one-on-one time with his child. But now he regretted that he had only met her a handful of times. She was Wade’s world, and Peter barely knew her.

“She was incredible.” Preston’s breath stutters when she says it, and she’s only just stopped herself from sobbing. Peter lowers his gaze to the table between them because he really doesn’t know what to do. He felt like he had no right to feel the pain and sorrow he did. She was a grieving mother, and he was just the boyfriend of the father who left his child in her care.

“Wade always boasted about her. He loved her so much.” Peter doesn’t know if it comes off crass, as though he’s trying to defend how absent Wade was. But this is all he has of the child that they’d lost.

“I know he did. I never doubted his love for her. He just… he wasn’t ready. At least he knew that.” Preston sighs, her hands coming up to cover her face. Peter chews the inside of his cheek. He knows that Wade was underprepared to be a parent, and he also knows the regret and hate he holds over himself for that. He wasn’t ready, and he ignored that responsibility for years until he couldn’t bear it anymore. And then he still couldn’t fathom the idea of putting Ellie at risk in his home, in his life, so he still kept her at arm's length.

“He wanted to be her father, but he didn’t know how to stop being Deadpool.” And Peter wouldn’t have expected him to, but he understands why the two couldn’t coexist. Deadpool’s world is a dangerous mess. Peter’s seen it all by this point. And even with having Ellie in it as little as possible, they all know that it was the reason that Ellie was gone now.

Peter doesn’t blame him, and he’s sure that Preston doesn’t either, but Wade will never be able to forgive himself. It was his biggest fear, his nightmare that became the worst reality for him. Peter can’t understand, but he can sympathise.

“Most of us don’t know how to stop.” Preston sighs, and Peter feels her guilt in his bones. He doesn’t know everything about her, but he knows enough. And he knows himself, he doubts he could ever stop being Spider-Man.

Peter gets up from his seat, realising that he hadn’t offered her anything when she came in. To be fair, he’s sure that she was expecting Wade to be here, in Wade’s apartment, not him. And Wade is a wreck, but Peter isn’t.

“Sometimes even if we want to,” Peter murmurs as he grabs a glass and fills it with water. “I’m not sure how much you know.” He kind of trails off as he brings the glass to the table for her.

“Thank you.” She murmurs under her breath as she takes a small sip. “I mean, not for nothing, but I didn’t know your name, but Wade doesn’t know how to shut up about you, Spider-Man.” Her tone isn’t accusing, but it’s a little teasing. At least it’s a distraction, even if only a poor one. “And you’re living in Deadpool’s apartment, I’d have to be blind and stupid not to figure out who you are.”

Peter takes his seat again and crosses his arms over the top of the table in front of him. He’s constantly surprised by how good Wade is at keeping his identity secret. Because Wade is a loudmouth with no filter and a brain that sometimes lags a couple of minutes behind when he’s rambling. And yet every time Peter meets anyone Wade knows as Peter, they never know that he’s Wade’s boyfriend.

“If only we could have been introduced under better circumstances.” Peter hums, lowering his gaze again. Preston hums too.

“Can’t change it. But don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” Preston assures, and it’s honestly the lowest concern on Peter’s list right now.

“I’m not worried. Wade is a lot of things, but most of the people he runs with are good-natured. And I mean… he never would have trusted you with his daughter if you weren’t.” Peter cringes a little, saying it. Every time it feels like he’s picking a scab open again. It’s a wound that he knows will never be healed; a wound he’s very familiar with. But when it’s so fresh and tender, it’s always going to be worse.

“I try,” Preston sighs before she picks up her glass again. Peter lightly drums his fingers against the table, soft enough that they don’t make any noise. The tension is thick, but he doesn’t blame her. Again, he’s not the reason she’s here. She was looking for Wade, not him.

“How is he?” She finally asks, and honestly, Peter expected her to address that elephant in the room sooner. But again, she knows Wade better than most, and she is more likely to understand that the answer that’s going to come to the follow-up questions is not going to be good. Because it’s obvious as day that Wade isn’t even here.

“I don’t know. Not good.” Peter sighs, feeling unease and guilt coil in his gut.

“How long has he been gone?” She asks knowingly. Maybe she knows more than Peter, and maybe that’s why she came here. Maybe she knew Wade wasn’t here, maybe she truly was here, knowing that Peter would be. Or at least that Wade’s partner would be.

“I haven’t seen him since the first night. He came home after… and he was a wreck, and I didn’t know what he was talking about at first. I tried comforting him, but he said he needed to go see you, and that was the last I saw of him. I haven’t heard from him. I message him every day. I stopped calling three days ago.” Peter grimaces. Was it too much? Was it not enough? He didn’t know. Wade had lost his daughter, and Peter had no idea how to help.

That was the hardest part; Peter didn’t know what was going on. Wade had been missing for a week, and that was something he could understand, but he didn’t know how to process. He figured that Wade wouldn’t have much, if any, say in Ellie's funeral or what would happen with her body, since Preston had full custody, so Peter wasn’t even thinking about Ellie during most of this time. He’s just been trying to get a hold of Wade.

“I was hoping that having you here might have kept him from disappearing. But Wade doesn’t handle guilt well. He doesn’t handle a lot of things well.” Preston sighs again and rubs her face before she leans back in her chair slightly and reaches into her pants pocket.

“He shouldn’t be alone, though.” Peter’s interest is piqued when she sets a pen and a notepad on the table in front of her. He chews the inside of his cheek again. He knew that she had to know more than he did. It just made sense.

“I have to warn you, it won’t be pretty. Whatever you find… it’ll stay with you. Wade… I’m sure you know, he’s reckless and he doesn’t care about himself, especially when he’s at his lowest.” Preston leans forward a little and wipes her face. She’s putting her pain on hold right now. This isn’t about Ellie; this is about Wade, and she knew that he wasn’t going to be here, but she had hoped that she would be wrong.

“I just want to be there for him.” Peter has seen a lot of horrible shit, especially when it comes to Wade. He doubts he’ll be ready, but he can look past it so that he can be there for him. Because Wade shouldn’t grieve alone, and he shouldn’t grieve the way that he is.

“He won’t want you there,” Preston states, and her tone is chilling. Peter takes in a deep breath and straightens his shoulders.

“I can handle it, Emily,” Peter assures. He’s not scared of Wade, and he knows Wade won’t hurt him anyway. He’ll threaten, he’ll try to get Peter away and to leave, but he won’t. He can stand his ground, and he can definitely hold his own if it comes to it.

Preston takes in a deep breath and picks up her pen. She starts writing down an address, and Peter’s stupid heart starts pounding a little faster in his chest. “He’s lucky to have you. You’re good for him.”

Peter exhales shakily and smiles a little sadly. “He’s good for me too.”

Preston tears the page off her notepad and hands it to Peter. “Her funeral is in three days. I’d hate for him to miss it. Once he’s back on his feet, tell him to call me.”

“Thank you. I know this is hard on you, too.” Because while Peter is worried about Wade and misses him, the centre of this all revolves around the death of a child.

“I love Ellie, she’s my daughter too. But she was Wade’s world, and I know that.” Preston pushes herself to her feet, and Peter follows instantly. “Bring him home, because he’ll regret it if he’s not here for her now.”

“What if he’s not here?” Peter asks, giving the piece of paper a slight wave to indicate what he means. Though he’s sure that Preston understands what he was asking.

“He will be. Trust me.” She offers him a pained smile before she tucks her notepad and pen back into her pocket and turns to leave.

There are a million things Peter wants to ask and know, questions he needs answers to. And yet he knows that she’s worn thin, she’s grieving. And right now just isn’t the time. “Thank you,” is all he says.

“Don’t mention it, Peter.” She gives him a slight wave before letting herself out. Peter feels all kinds of wrong.

He’s out of sorts; he has no idea what to think or feel. He didn’t know what to do when Wade took off and failed to get into contact with him. He’d thought that Wade just needed time, and he understood because everyone grieves differently. But as the days dragged on, Peter really didn’t know what to do. He wanted to be there for Wade, but Wade was gone.

He glances down at the paper in his hand and takes in a deep breath. He needed to bring Wade home; he needed to help him through his pain and grief.

But Wade has to be willing to let him.

- - -

The house is unassuming from the outside and not what Peter had expected. His first thought is that he didn’t know Wade owned a house, which was quickly followed by the thought that maybe he didn’t, which was swept away by the thought that none of that mattered right now. This was where Preston said that Wade would be, but she also said that what Peter was going to find wasn’t going to be pretty. But from where he stood, just having stepped inside the gate that’s not even waist high on him, the house just looked like a house. On the older side, but well-kept and homey.

The yard is clean, the panelling is in good condition, and everything looks normal. It’s not isolated from other buildings, and it doesn’t have an uneasy vibe to it. It just looks like a small family home. The only thing that may be off to some is that the shutters are closed despite the time of day. But that could just be because the homeowner is away, or perhaps a night owl, so even that isn’t too weird. Peter’s gut feels unsettled with the thoughts on the more likely reason for them to be closed.

Peter slowly approaches the front door, traversing the porch steps with baited breath. Each movement closer made the dread in his gut feel worse, and the ache in his chest more painful. He has an idea of what he might come across inside, and despite trying to prepare himself for the worst, he knows deep down that he doesn’t want to have to see it. There was no other outcome, though; either he does this now, or he leaves and runs the risk of not seeing Wade again for an unknown amount of time.

Preston had written under the address that there was always a spare key in the left windowsill. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what that could mean, but fiddling with it for a moment, the panelling shifts slightly, and Peter lifts it. The key is thankfully still there. Peter knows Wade wouldn’t come to the door if he knocked, and calling him would be pointless. Breaking in would have been his only chance if the key hadn’t been there.

Peter settles the wood back into its place and steps up to the door. He hesitates with the key pressed against but not yet inside the lock. His fingers are trembling now, and his chest is heaving with the increased rate of his breathing. Already, he can feel the burn of tears forming in his eyes and the tightness of his throat as though he’s seconds away from crying. And nothing has even happened yet, Wade might not even be here. He trusts Preston to know what she’s talking about, but that was exactly why Peter feared he wasn’t here. Because if Preston knows about this, then there’s a good chance Wade didn’t come here.

Taking in a deep breath, Peter unlocks the door and forces himself inside. He doesn’t want to startle Wade if he is here, but he also doesn’t even know what to say as he enters.

The house is dark, but again, unassuming for the most part. Once the door is closed behind him, Peter notices the faint smell. It’s not pleasant, like rotting flesh or blood, but it’s not overwhelming. Peter swallows thickly and forces himself to move.

“Wade?” His voice is a lot weaker than he expects it to be, but the silence inside carries his voice easily. Even without heightened senses, Peter’s sure he could hear breathing from the next room if there were any, with how quiet it is inside.

The only thing out of place that he spots is one of the kitchen chairs being slightly askew, as though it had been run into as Wade moved through the room. And heading down the short hall opposite it, the smell worsens. Peter’s gut churns, but he continues to swallow back the lump in his throat. All of the doors are open to the rooms, bar one. And the closer he gets, the harder his heart thumps in his chest, and the richer the stench gets.

“Wade?” Peter tries again, but his voice shakes more, and tears trail down his cheeks when he blinks. He’s not ready, nor does he even know what he’s about to see, but he reaches for the doorknob and slowly turns it.

Opening the door is horrifying. The odour makes his stomach roll, and Peter’s shoulders tense with the rising urge to gag. But worse than the smell is the sight. Even if Preston had explained it to him, Peter doubts it would have made it easier to digest. If anything, he feels it somehow would have made this worse.

The room has been turned into nothing short of a torture chamber. Everything is blacked out; the only reason he can see anything is from the light coming through the door he’s just opened. There’s blood everywhere, and Peter’s heart aches. The floor is covered in shattered pieces of glass, with blades sticking out of the floorboards at random. Not just knife-like blades, either, but saw blades as well. The walls are the same. And chains are hanging from the ceiling with blades attached to them, too, as well as weights. Almost everything is blood-soaked.

And at the epicentre of it all, curled in on himself against the back corner of the room, is Wade. In the remains of his Deadpool suit, that’s shredded against his body, with no visible fresh wounds from where Peter stands, but blood still dripping from his fingertips, running down his arms, coating his legs. Peter’s seen a lot of gore and gruesome scenes since he started dating Wade. But nothing compared to this.

“Baby,” Peter exhales, still not knowing what to do or say. It was heartbreaking, realising that Wade had been gone for a week, and that he had most likely been here that whole time, inflicting pain on himself because he thinks he deserves it. Peter has to force back a sob that makes his chest burn. His mind unhelpfully questions how many times Wade has let himself die during the past week, which only makes him feel so much worse.

He glances to the floor and goes to step into the room, hoping he can navigate the nightmare of weapons and glass to get to Wade. But before he can even fully lift his foot from the floor, he hears the rumble of Wade’s voice from across the room: “Don’t,”

Peter takes in a shaky breath and lifts his gaze back to Wade. Their eyes meet, and the pure anger and hate in Wade’s gaze is enough to make Peter shudder. He’s seen Wade angry before, but not like this, and never in a way that felt directed at him. Peter inhales sharply, which he instantly regrets when it causes the smell to intensify and his gut churns again.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wade murmurs. Through the anger, Peter can hear the hurt in his voice. He’s grieving, suffering, and Peter wants desperately to be able to get to him so that he can provide the comfort that he knows he needs, even if he doesn’t want it. “How did you find me?”

“Emily was worried. So was I.” Peter doesn’t know how Wade will take to knowing that Preston led him here, but he doubts that he’ll do anything rash. There was probably some part of Wade that knew she knew, and maybe even expected her to show up. And maybe that was just the thing; Wade never expected it to be Peter to come for him here.

“You need to leave. Now.” Wade practically hisses. Peter can hear the hitch in his voice. He’s been crying, or he’s on the verge of crying. Maybe both. He looks like a wreck, and Peter just wants to hold him and try to bear some of his pain for him.

“You know I can’t,” Peter murmurs, his voice weak again. There’s no way that Peter could see Wade in a state like this and just turn his back. He loves Wade more than anything, which has been a scary thought for months, but it’s how he feels. He doesn’t want to lose him.

“Get out, Peter.” Wade’s tone is akin to a snarl. But Peter’s heard it all before. Wade’s favourite thing to do is get himself in a bad state and then try to push those close away. Peter can acknowledge that it’s a toxic trait, but Wade’s been through hell; he can’t blame him for it. He’s not victimising himself, he just genuinely believes he’s unlovable and that the vicious cycle of fake security and love to pain and torment is never-ending. And he just lost his daughter, Peter can’t blame him for lashing out.

“Please.” It’s almost a whimper, and definitely a plea. And as much as Peter knows Wade wants him to see it as his boyfriend wanting him gone, he knows that deep down, Wade’s actually begging him to stay. He’s in pain, and he thinks that handling it alone is easier, but he knows that having Peter there will be better for him. He just can’t be vulnerable in too many ways at once. Peter gets it.

“I can’t leave you.” Peter grips the doorframe and glances at the floor again. He wants to try, but he has the unsettling feeling that if he steps foot in that room, something horrible will happen. Wade doesn’t want him here; he doesn’t want Peter to see him like this. Invading that space was a big no, and Peter was already toeing that line.

“You should. I’m a monster. I fucking killed her.” Wade seethes, and his hands come up to press firmly against his eyes. His shoulders heave, but no noise leaves him. Even now, despite the sight in front of him, Wade’s trying to conceal himself from Peter. It’s hard to watch.

“You didn’t, Wade. You did not kill Ellie.” Peter murmurs, feeling guilt roll in his gut. The smell isn’t helping, and he’s honestly surprised that he’s keeping himself together as well as he is. It’s foul, and it’s heartbreaking, and maybe it’s painful enough for him to ignore how sick he feels because the man he loves is in so much pain right now.

Wade shakes his head violently, his palms still pressed firmly against his eyes. And this time, when his shoulders shake, his sob is audible. Peter’s chest feels like it clenches around his heart. He’s seen Wade cry before, even if Wade hated him seeing it. He’s held Wade through breakdowns that he concealed until he couldn’t any longer. But Peter’s never seen Wade like this. And he can’t help, and that’s killing him.

“Just go.” Wade manages to croak out after a moment. Peter shakes his head, but Wade’s head is still in his hands. Peter swallows thickly and closes his eyes. He won’t leave; he could never walk away from anyone in the state Wade’s in.

Peter takes in a shaky breath and leans his back against the doorframe. He slowly slides down it until he’s sat with the corner of it wedged against his spine. He holds his knees up with his fingers loosely locked together, and he glances toward Wade through the corner of his eye.

“I’m not leaving you, baby. I won’t.” Peter says it with determination, but he hears the waver in his own voice. He doesn’t feel strong right now; he feels useless. How can he help? He needed to help, he wanted to help. Wade didn’t deserve to suffer more than he already has. He lost his daughter; that pain was enough. This self-mutilation wasn’t deserved; it wasn’t fair to anyone. How is he meant to explain that to Wade?

Wade falls silent, and so does Peter. He tips his head back and swallows the lump still fighting its way up his throat. Even if it’s the bare minimum, he’ll stay here to prove to Wade that he’s not alone, that he doesn’t have to be alone. That he’s loved, that Peter cares about him. Sometimes actions are louder than words, and right now, Peter doesn’t have any fight in him, and Wade’s at his breaking point. He’s well past it, really. But when you can’t die… well, it’s a rinse and repeat cycle for the rest of your life.

- - -

Peter loses track of time. It’s a stalemate, because Peter refuses to leave, and Wade won’t budge. It’s a small victory for Peter, because at least while he’s sitting there against that wall, he’s not hurting himself. At least, Peter can hope he’s not.

The house was already dark, besides the one light Peter had turned on, but Peter’s aware of the passage of time as the shadows started to loom further. He can feel the chill in the air as the sun starts to set. He won’t move, though; he won’t walk away from Wade.

He looks over to the merc, his heart aching further every time that he does. Wade looks defeated, and hope sits undeservedly in Peter’s chest. Wade was broken and exhausted, and Peter wanted nothing more than to hold him and take care of him, but he couldn’t.

Peter turns so that his side is resting against the doorframe now, rather than his back. The movement makes him aware of how much he aches from how long he’d been sitting in one position. It also draws Wade’s attention toward him again. Peter chews the inside of his cheek, feeling that burn of tears in his eyes again as he meets Wade’s gaze.

“I love you, Wade Wilson. I will always love you.” Peter tries to say it firmly, but his voice is still so weak and raw. He means it, though, and he knows that Wade can hear the sincerity in his voice, if the way that his breath stutters is any indication.

“You can’t say that.” Wade croaks. Peter’s throat tightens, and his body betrays him as his tears start falling again. He breathes in deep and tries to will the shake from his body.

“I can, and I will.” He has more strength to his voice, more determination to his words. At first, realising he was falling in love with Wade was terrifying. But he’s long past that. Peter has never felt the intensity of emotions for anyone else like he has for Wade.

It’s mind-boggling, heart-stopping and soul-crushing all at the same time. But it makes Peter more sure of himself than anything else ever could. Wade evokes such strong feelings from Peter that he’s never experienced before. Wade makes him feel alive. Wade meant everything to him. Peter wasn’t going to let that feeling go, ever.

The irony of it all was that Wade struggled to accept that Peter could feel that way for him. Wade was ambushed by how strong Peter felt for him, but how willingly Peter gave his love. Wade couldn’t handle the intensity of the emotions that he pulled from Peter. But that couldn’t stop Peter from expressing them. Because when Wade does have good days, when he can accept it, he lights up the whole room.

And Wade gives back what he gets so easily. Peter knows that Wade loves him. Because Wade doesn’t half-ass anything. He gives it his all, and when he loves, he loves with his whole being.

And Peter knows that Wade loved Ellie more than he could have ever expressed to her. He knows that his heart beat for her, that Wade lived for her. That beat was missing now, skipped with every pound in Wade’s chest. And Peter knows that Wade loves him, but with his pain and this heartache, it will take a while for Wade to be able to show that again.

Peter will wait, and Peter will continue to love Wade with the ferocity that he always has. Because Wade needs his time to heal and grieve, and Peter would be the biggest asshole to not understand that. He always came second to Wade’s daughter, as he always should have. And he will continue to come second to her, even now. Peter wouldn’t want it any other way.

It’s clear that Wade’s unable to handle Peter’s insistence right now. There are many types of Wade, and Peter’s used to them all, but it never gets easier. Wade shutting down is probably the hardest. Because when Wade grits his teeth and fights back, kicking and flailing in his anger, it’s easier than having him completely closed off. Which is what’s happening now. There’s no fight, no argument, just more silence as Wade lowers his head and internally agonises over Peter’s words.

Peter chews the wall of his cheek more and continues to just watch Wade in silence. He really doesn’t know what else to do. He can sit here and tell Wade he loves him until he’s blue in the face, and it wouldn’t change the outcome. Wade’s world has shattered.

Peter knows they can’t stay like this, though, and he refuses to walk away with Wade still in that room. He had to get him out, and if that came down to forcefully… well, he wouldn’t. Because Wade is trusting him right now not to push any harder on this boundary that he is resting his entire weight on. So he has to get Wade out another way.

“Her funeral is in three days.” Peter finally mentions it, dropping the ball they both knew was hanging over them. Peter sees Wade’s arm twitch. He sees the shake in his shoulders a few moments later. Peter swallows thickly and lowers his gaze again. “I know you want to be there.”

Peter wonders if Preston would hold off until Wade was ready, or if the funeral would happen without him. It would be cruel to herself to prolong that closure and part of the grieving process, especially when she has her family to worry about, too. It would feel cruel to go ahead without Wade, too, but the world can’t stop and wait for him. The cruel reality is that Ellie had waited enough for Wade to be ready to be there for her in life. She didn’t deserve to wait again in death.

“Please come home.” Peter finally begs. His resolve cracks a little, and a weak sob escapes him before he can stop it. He hates the idea of Wade not being there; he hates the idea that he wouldn’t feel right going without Wade, but that he would want to be there.

Peter takes in a shuddering breath and tries to tell himself not to cry anymore. But the dam has broken, the tears keep flowing, and he feels so worn thin. Wade was gone for a week, and Peter held it together pretty well during that time, all things considered. But he was at his breaking point, too.

“I need you to come home, Wade. You need to be home. Preston needs you. I need you. Ellie… you need to be there for Ellie.” Peter’s voice wavers. He feels awful for doing this, for trying to find the thing that will make Wade cave. He feels like he’s guilting him, but he knows that Wade already knows all of this. He’s just ignoring it.

“I don’t deserve to be,” Wade murmurs, his head still hanging low and his hands now holding the back of his skull, fingers digging into his skin. Peter wants to pry his hands away and hold them so that he can’t keep doing it. He wants to ease Wade’s pain. He wants to free him from this hell.

“I know what you’re thinking. I get it. But please.” Peter continues to plead. Peter understands Wade’s guilt; he does, but he can’t allow Wade to exist in it any longer.

“Ellie loved you; you were everything to her. She deserves that last goodbye.” Peter doesn’t believe in the afterlife, not like most do anyway. But he knows Death exists, she is real, and she would have been with Ellie. And maybe that’s why Wade’s been here, torturing and killing himself. All so that he could try to barter with her, maybe to see Ellie or to beg for her life. It’s all heartbreaking, and Peter hates knowing there’s nothing more he can do for Wade.

“I’m trying. She’s never there.” Wade’s fingers clench into tight fists against his head before both come slamming down to the floor. Peter hears the wet crack, something’s gouged into Wade’s flesh. He tries to ignore it, and Wade doesn’t even flinch or grimace. He’s numb to it all.

“You know that’s not how it works, baby. She’s never going to be there.” Wade’s explained dying before, and so while Peter doesn’t fully know what it’s like, he gets that it’s a weird limbo situation for him. “But I’m here. Preston is here, and we both need you, Wade.”

Peter’s gut churns again when he hears the unmissable noise of flesh tearing again when Wade moves his arms. His right hand drips blood profusely, but Peter can’t properly see the wound from here. “Please stop hurting yourself. Please. I… I hate seeing you like this.”

“You were never meant to be here.” Wade’s tone is laced with that anger again. Peter takes in a shaky breath and tries squaring his shoulders.

“That doesn’t make it easier for me. I know she was everything to you, but you’re everything to me. Please, Wade, she wouldn’t want this for you.” And that’s a slippery slope for him, speaking on behalf of a child he barely knew. A child who was no longer alive. But he saw how they interacted with each other. Ellie was bubbly, full of joy and excitement every time she was with Wade. She would hate to see him suffering.

There’s a pause in which the tension in Wade’s body slips away. His hands come up to cover his face, and his body shakes again. Peter swallows thickly, and that urge to try approaching him worsens.

“Wade,” Peter tries, but he doesn’t budge. “Baby, look at me.” He almost holds his breath as he waits, but slowly, Wade’s hands fall and his head raises. His eyes are filled with pain and sadness. The hard edge of his anger is gone, but Peter’s sure it’s lingering just under the surface.

Peter reaches his hand out, even though Wade is across the room. “Come home.”

Peter sees the twitch in Wade’s fingers and the way that his body tenses again. For a moment, that’s all that he gets, and Peter’s forced to watch with misery in his eyes as Wade just stares back. Broken and grieving, he doesn’t move for what feels like hours, but can only be minutes. When he finally shifts, Peter’s breath hitches, and relief floods into him.

He watches as Wade stands, and without showing any emotion, he moves across the room. Peter pulls himself up from the floor, ignoring the sound of glass under Wade’s feet and the sound of blades grazing his skin as he tries not to get his hopes up. For all he knows, Wade’s going to slam this door in his face and tell him to piss off.

Peter reaches out again when Wade’s closer and almost sobs when Wade reaches for him in turn. He ignores the blood as best he can when their hands touch, but he is overly aware of how much there is. He pulls Wade into his embrace instantly and clings to him like a lifeline.

“God, Wade. I missed you so much. I didn’t know what to think.” Peter murmurs, pressing his face into Wade’s shoulder. The merc’s arms come around him, but his hold is loose. Peter doesn’t mind; all he cares about is having Wade back.

“I didn’t want you to know about this place,” Wade responds, still sounding defeated.

“I know. I… I understand, I do. But… you can’t do this to yourself, Wade.” Peter slowly trails a hand down Wade’s back. His suit is almost completely shredded from his body, and while there are no fresh injuries on his back, Peter can only imagine the torment Wade has put his own body through over the past week.

“You don’t understand. You can’t.” Wade’s body tenses, but he doesn’t attempt to push Peter away, thankfully. Peter wants to disagree, but he knows that’s not what Wade needs right now. So he drops it.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Peter nudges the door closed with his foot and is instantly relieved to have the majority of the smell trapped away again, and to also not have to see the horror of that room. He helps Wade to the bathroom, though he’s sure the merc doesn’t actually need it, but Peter just wants to hold onto him and be close.

Wade sits on the edge of the bathtub, and Peter starts running the water, thankful that it turns on. He has so many questions about this house, but he knows there are a lot of answers he won’t want. It’s evident of its main purpose.

“Do you have clothes here?” Peter asks a little nervously. It’s not like Wade can leave in what’s remaining of his suit. It’s barely holding on as it is, and once it’s off, Peter doubts it’ll get back onto Wade’s body.

“Yeah, bedroom.” Wade stays unmoving, his gaze on the floor. His eyes are vacant, even more so than usual. Peter wished desperately that there was more he could do for him. He hates feeling so helpless.

“Okay, I’ll be back.” He does hesitate to leave the room, but he can’t see Wade doing any worse to himself than he already has. Especially with him here. Peter rinses off his hands before he leaves the room. It doesn’t take much to find that Wade has a duffel bag beside the bed with a fresh Deadpool suit tucked inside. He always has at least one spare.

Coming back into the bathroom, Wade’s already stripped down and sat himself in the still-filling tub. Peter’s heart aches seeing him like this. He isn’t Wade right now, not Peter’s Wade. And Peter doesn’t expect him to be; he lost his daughter, but that doesn’t make seeing it any easier.

Peter sits on the edge of the tub and slowly strokes his fingers down Wade’s scalp. The merc’s eyes slide shut, and he leans into the contact. “I’m sorry I worried you.” He murmurs, and Peter’s shaking his head instantly.

“It’s okay.” Peter doesn’t know what else to say, really.

“I got all of your messages.” Wade continues. Peter nods in understanding, but he still has nothing to provide. Wade looks up at him and tries to smile at him, but it’s forced. “And I love you too.”

Peter’s lip trembles, and he takes in a deep breath to try to stave off the urge to start crying again. “I know you do.”

Wade leans into Peter’s side and closes his eyes again. Peter returns to running his fingers slowly over Wade’s scalp. They had a long road of healing ahead of them. Peter would stand by Wade through it all, no matter what.

Chapter Text

Peter will never get used to the discomfort in his gut that comes with a funeral. It’s not the grief or the sorrow, it’s something else that he can’t explain. An unease of tension in his stomach that makes his shoulders tense and his fingers shake.

He’s tired of funerals; he has been for a long time. But he’s never missed one, even if he’s only attended as Spider-Man from afar when Peter Parker couldn’t be there. Just because he couldn’t stomach it didn’t give him the right to hide, but at least he showed up in the end. It’s a terrible rationale, but it’s one that he can live with.

He fidgets as he messes with his tie and shifts his footing. He still feels a weird sense of not belonging. Ellie was important to him through proxy because she was important to Wade. But Peter barely met her and didn’t know anything about her that Wade hadn’t told him. He supposes that he's more here for Wade, as his partner, than he is for Ellie. He doesn’t like thinking about it that way, but it’s the reality of his situation.

Peter exhales a low breath and looks back down the hall. Wade still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom, and while Peter was trying to be patient, it was getting to the point where they couldn’t wait any longer. He swallows thickly and walks down the hall.

The door isn’t fully closed, but Peter still lightly taps on it as he opens it more. His heart hasn’t stopped aching since finding Wade, but it’s worse seeing him looking so defeated and unlike himself. He’s dressed at least, Peter feared he wouldn’t be, but he’s unmoving, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head hung and something in his hand. A piece of paper, Peter concludes. He comes over and sits beside Wade.

Peter’s never seen Wade in a suit before, a proper formal suit, that is, and it’s a bad time to be thinking that he looks nice in it, but he thinks he does. Peter chews his cheek and rests his hand on Wade’s thigh. Instantly, Wade covers his hand, and his thumb roughly strokes over his knuckles. Peter tips his head and kisses Wade’s shoulder.

“Are you ready?” He feels stupid asking it. Of course, Wade isn’t ready for his daughter's funeral. The cruel reality is that Ellie hadn’t presented any mutant abilities, and at her age, the chance of it suddenly occurring was slim, but maybe never zero. However, that meant that Wade was probably always going to have this day come; he was going to outlive her. Of course, that doesn’t make it any easier that she was killed.

“She deserved so much better.” Wade murmurs, his hold on the folded paper tightening, crumpling it slightly before he relaxes like he didn’t mean to do it. Peter glances at it, finally seeing the word ‘Daddy’ scrawled on it. Peter’s chest aches, realising that it’s a note from Ellie.

“You were doing better.” Peter’s said it so many times over the past couple of days. But he’s not sure what else to say. Wade was trying to do better, and he was trying to be more present, but it doesn’t erase the past, nor does it aid in the fact that it was now too late. Peter can’t even begin to imagine how Wade must feel. That kind of guilt would kill anyone.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Wade admits, as he strokes his thumb over the writing on the paper. Peter takes in a breath and nods in understanding.

“You can, and you will. And you’ll be glad that you did.” Peter squeezes Wade’s thigh before he stands again. He holds his hand out for the merc and offers him a sad smile. “It’ll never be easy, it’s… you just get used to holding the pain.”

Peter’s lost more, but if anyone is used to pain, it’s Wade Wilson. It’s obviously a different kind of pain, one that Wade avoids as much as possible by doing things like distancing himself from people, but it’s pain all the same.

“But I’ll be here to help you through it. Whatever you need, I’m not going anywhere, baby.” Peter assures. Wade takes his hand, squeezing it lightly as he allows Peter to help him to his feet. His other hand still clings to the piece of paper like a lifeline.

“I know. I’m stuck with you. You’ve made that abundantly clear.” Wade tries for lighthearted, but Peter can hear in his voice that he’s struggling to say it. Peter steps closer and kisses Wade’s cheek.

“I made a promise. I intend to keep it.” Peter chews his lip a little before he straightens up again, and like always, puts on a brave face. Today was going to be a hard day. “Let’s go.”

Wade can only nod and allows Peter to lead him.

- - -

Peter didn’t expect there to be too many people, but he also didn’t know what to fully expect in terms of the service. There’s a decent number of people he doesn’t recognise, and a good few he does, as S.H.I.E.L.D., so he’s assuming most of them are. Which made sense; they were here to support Preston, after all. It’s clear that Wade didn’t know what to expect either, so Peter gives his hand a light squeeze in the hopes of easing him some.

Preston leaves her seat and makes her way to them as soon as she realises that they’ve arrived. Peter tries offering her a slight smile, and she returns it in kind, though of course it doesn’t reach her eyes. She doesn’t appear to have been crying yet, but she’s probably close.

Wade drops his hold on Peter’s hand and steps toward her, as she opens her arms to him. The way that Wade hugs her, clings to her, has Peter’s chest aching. Wade practically crumples in her embrace. Peter hears Wade’s murmured apologies, muffled by his face being pressed into her shoulder. Preston shakes her head and closes her eyes.

“None of that. Not today. Not ever.” She says as she rubs his back slowly. Peter tries not to seem like he’s hovering, but he also can’t exactly step aside to give them their moment. Wade still mumbles more apologies, Peter hears him say that he’ll be sorry forever, and it breaks his heart a little bit more.

When they part, Preston’s hands grip Wade’s biceps in a firm but comforting hold as she looks up at him. There are tears in her eyes now, but she’s holding them at bay. Wade’s doing the same, but his shoulders are shaking. “I’m just relieved that you’re here.” And she glances at Peter, her lip twitching in what he thinks was meant to be another smile, but it doesn’t stick. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Peter doesn’t know if he wants to acknowledge that, nor does he really know what to say. He wouldn’t have been able to do it if Preston hadn’t told him where to go, and it was clear as day that Wade didn’t want Peter knowing that the house existed at all. He just nods, feeling unease and tension regarding the whole thing.

Preston leads them to the front row where she had been seated, and there are very brief introductions between Peter and her husband and son. It feels awkward, at least for him, but maybe they couldn’t care less about him or why he’s here. He’s here to support Wade; he’s not here because Ellie was a part of his life. After all, she barely was. If he weren’t dating Wade, maybe at some point he would have heard that Wade’s daughter had died, and that would have been the end of it; that was how little he knew about her.

Wade had been offered a chance to speak at the service, but he’d practically declined it instantly. Peter had offered to read anything he wanted to say, if it was just that he was uncomfortable doing it, or if he felt he wouldn’t be able to. But Wade had said there was nothing to say, only more apologising. Peter didn’t push.

Preston’s eulogy breaks Peter. He knew he didn’t know Ellie, but hearing her tell Ellie’s story makes him regret further that he didn’t. He feels out of place still, in his sorrow and his presence. But he holds Wade’s hand firmly in his own, and tells himself he’s needed here. Wade needs him, and he promised he would be here for him.

Watching her casket being lowered into the ground breaks him further. He’s lost so many people in his life, and he’s all too familiar with grief, but he’s never watched a child be buried. It’s so small, and Peter unfortunately knows they can be smaller, but it doesn’t help the drop in his gut watching as she’s lowered into the ground. He clings to Wade’s hand, who has been silently crying since Preston’s eulogy. He wipes at his eyes now and then, but he hasn’t said anything in what feels like hours. Peter can only imagine the hell going on in his head.

The family always drop their gifts first, but since Peter is with Wade, he also puts his in before everyone else starts doing so. Wade and Preston remained at the side of her grave as people left their flowers, offered their condolences and moved on. Peter keeps by Wade’s side, holding his hand as everyone else slowly leaves, until it’s only the three of them and the groundskeeper left. He stands waiting for them to give their cue for him to begin burying her.

Wade pulls his hand from Peter’s grasp and steps closer to the grave. Peter swallows thickly and watches as he reaches into the internal pocket of his suit jacket. He watches as Wade lowers an action figure atop the pile of flowers covering her casket. It’s a figurine that he’s seen before, which Wade explained was a Spider-Man figurine that Ellie loved pretending was a Deadpool one, so one day Wade painted over it to make it look like Deadpool.

Peter remembers Wade joking that it’s the only reason he ever actually wanted to be in the X-Men or Avengers: to finally get his own action figure for Ellie.

Once Wade is standing at Peter’s side again, Preston tells the groundskeeper that he can begin. Ellie’s casket is lowered all the way, and the straps are removed from the grave before they start shovelling dirt into the hole. Peter leans a little further into Wade’s side and presses a firm kiss to his shoulder. Wade takes his hand again and squeezes as they watch for a moment, just until the casket itself is covered almost fully, before they walk away.

- - -

Wade’s apartment is silent, like it never has been before that night. They don’t talk much, mainly because Wade clearly doesn’t have it in him, and because Peter wants to respect him. Besides asking small questions, not much conversation happens until they’re finally in bed.

“Thank you for being there today,” Wade murmurs into the darkness. Peter is curled up into his side, his hand resting against Wade’s chest and his chin tucked into his shoulder. Peter strokes his thumb over Wade’s skin slowly.

“Of course. I’m here for you.” Peter doesn’t know what else to say. He can’t keep apologising, Wade’s heard enough of it for the day, probably for the rest of his life.

“I know, and I don’t want you to think that I’m taking that for granted. Or you for granted. It means a lot.” Wade says it like he’s already worried that Peter thinks he has. But of course, that couldn’t be further from reality.

“I don’t think that. You’re grieving, you’re allowed to grieve.” Peter knows that’s the obvious takeaway, but sometimes people forget that their pain is valid. And he knows that Wade doesn’t think that his pain is valid, because he thinks that he is at fault. It’s something that will never leave him. He will carry this guilt for the rest of his life.

“I know. Just… sucks.” And the way that he says it speaks volumes. Wade doesn’t even want to focus on it anymore, because he truly doesn’t feel justified in his grief. It’s heartbreaking that his daughter was killed, and all he can think about is how he doesn’t deserve to feel sad.

“It sucks for a long time. It never really stops sucking. You learn to carry it, but never live with it. I’ll help you carry it.” Peter knows that it’s a very minor aid, but he also knows it does help when you do allow others to bear that pain with you. It never feels right, and you always feel worse in the start, but it truly does help.

“You have your own grief to carry,” Wade mentions, trying to deflect. He always does, but Peter never allows it.

“You help me carry mine. So I’ll help carry yours.” Peter lifts his head so that he can kiss the side of Wade’s neck. It’s a little sloppy because it’s pitch black, and he can’t tell how close Wade is. He gets a slight scoff for his efforts from Wade. A laugh that he probably didn’t want to give. Peter will take it.

“And hey… I’ll… I know we’ll handle it differently, but I’ll help you search for the guy. It didn’t help me when I hunted down Ben’s killer… and maybe it won’t help you, but I also know you. You’re gonna do it anyway. I won’t get in the way of what you have to do, but I’ll help you if you want me to.” Peter grimaces a little because he doesn’t know if Wade even wants to be thinking about it right now. Wade’s grief is his own, and he will deal with it as he needs to, as he already has. But this is better than him locking himself away and torturing himself. Peter won’t ever fully be on board with killing, but he’d be in the wrong to get in the way of Wade going after the person who killed his daughter.

“That’s sweet that you think I haven’t already dealt with that.” Wade hums. Peter feels unease settle in his gut.

“You’re not… talking about yourself, are you?” He hates to ask it, but he also knows that Wade blames himself.

“I dealt with that too.” Wade scoffs again, and that horrible feeling in Peter’s gut worsens for a moment. He knew, he’d seen it, but Wade joking about it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Wade,” Peter knows a lecture right now isn’t going to do any good, but Wade cuts him off anyway, before he can continue.

“Hey, it’s done. I’m here now, and he’s gone.” Wade shrugs, like it’s nothing. Peter knows that to him, it’s some kind of closure, and Peter was offering to help in that, but he hadn’t expected Wade to have already dealt with it. But it was probably the only thing that consumed him until the man was dead, and then, all that mattered was trying to destroy himself.

"But thank you for offering,” Wade whispers, his arm coming under Peter’s body as he turns over so that he’s facing Peter, even if they can’t see each other in the darkness. “I love you, Peter.”

“I love you too,” Peter responds in the same hushed voice as he pulls Wade closer into his body and cuddles him tight. A day won’t go by without Wade feeling as though he’s suffering the loss all over again. But those days won’t be without Peter holding his hand to guide him through it.