It's Valentine's Day, Spider-Hubby! [Spideypool]

✿ 𝓉𝓊𝑒𝓈𝒹𝒶𝓎 ✿

Peter woke up at 6am to an empty bed and the sound of gunshots. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and rolls out of the bed. His bare feet padding across the floor as he comes to the bedroom door and watches Wade have an episode.

Their apartment is mostly sound proofed and they've designated one wall for target practice. Luckily thats the one Wade is aiming and screaming at. He's forced his Deadpool mask back on haphazardly but he's still only wearing his boxers and one sock.

Peter goes back in the room and puts on his webshooters before picking up the phone and leaving a message to call both he and Wade out for the day. It happens sometimes. Wade has voices and trauma and PTSD and who knows what else. Other times Wade calls them out because Peter has depression and trauma and anxiety and PTSD and a load of other smaller things that keeps him from getting out of bed in the morning.

He walks back into the living room.

"Wade-"

"How do you know my name?" says Wade and there's a threatening tone to his voice. Peter only heaves another sigh. He's stronger than Wade. Usually they both know this. "Why're you in my place? Who let you in here?"

"Deadpool, I need you to calm down, I don't want to hurt you."

"Likely story, sweet cheeks, but you don't look like you could hurt a depressed fly. Now why don't you tell me what you're really doing here." He's pointing the gun at Peter now and the younger man snaps, too tired to deal with his husband aiming a gun at his head at 6 in the fucking morning.

"Wade Winston Parker-Wilson, if you don't stop pointing that gun at me, I swear to-"

"Parker?" Wade cuts him off confused.

"For fucks sake," Peter says before he's webbing the gun out of Wade's hands and marching over to hold his wrists by his sides.

"You're cuter without your mask, Spidey," Wade says in awe, trying to reach up and touch his face, probably to brush his hair out of it, but Peter is using his strength to keep his hands by his sides. At least until he's less high strung.

"Your brains rebooting, do you want to sit or stand," says Peter resigned. Wade's body does this sometimes too, let's the cancer attack his brain until he's missing years of his life. Until he thinks he's trapped in chains and needs to naw his arms off to get free. Until he thinks he's back in Weapon-X training being abused and tortured and he screams himself hoarse.

"Standing's fine," he whispers yet somehow his voice is even softer when he asks: "Have you been here for one of these before?"

Peter only nods, as he lets his feet stick to the floor so he won't fall over from being so tired. His grip slackens on Wade's wrists.

"Like this? No mask?"

"No mask," Peter says affirmatively through a yawn.

"And you're still here?"

"Yeah."

"But why?"

"Love you," Peter says through another yawn, his forehead falling forward onto Wade's chest. He can feel Wade's breath stutter and his heart beat speed up.

"You- but- I don't even know your name, Webs," Wade sounds so distressed and Peter hates these moments. When Wade is reverted back to being unsure of where he stands with Peter. Of how much Peter cares about him. It makes him want to reach into Wade's very essence and kiss all the broken pieces better.

"It's Peter. Peter Benjamin Parker-Wilson." He can't help the little smile on his face when Wade sucks in another breath.

"Oh god," he says in reverence on the exhale. "We're married?"

Peter nods into his chest, but he's tired and he can feel his body relaxing now that Wade isn't running rampant around the apartment with a gun and no idea who he is.

"Come back to bed, babe, please."

"What if I wake up and this is all a dream? What if I wake up and you still hate me?"

"This isn't a dream and I don't hate you." Peter has wrapped his arms around Wade's waist and allowed himself to relax into his husband's warm body. "I never hated you."

"This has to be a dream," says Wade, but he wraps his arms around Peter anyway. "You're too good to have to deal with my shit all the time."

"Shut up. You have to deal with my shit too."

"I'd deal with anything if it meant I got to spend my life with you," Wade says and it's just so goddamn sappy that Peter punches him in the shoulder, though his cheeks are flaming red. "And you blush so beautifully, baby boy."

"Shut up," inists Peter, his cheeks still flaming as he lays his forehead back onto Wade's chest.

-§-

Peter wakes up on the couch, swaddled in blankets. Wade is sitting on the floor by his head, rubbing a hand through his hair. He yawns.

"What time is it?" he asks, his voice raspy from sleep.

"Almost 10."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have left you like that."

"You were there for me, that's all that matters," insists the scarred man."You're always there for me."

"Feeling better then?" Peter asks, sitting up and scooting over so they can, very uncomfortably, both fit on the couch. He climbs over Wade a moment later so they're a bit more comfy.

"I remember, if that's what you mean."

"How's your weather then," asks Peter instead. How're you feeling?

"Bit cloudy. No Rain," Wade says shrugging. Not the best, but I'll be fine.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"You know just being near you gives me clear skies." Wade still has his mask on so Peter can't tell for sure if he's lying, if there really is nothing he can do to help, but it doesn't feel like a lie and that's enough for him so he leans in and kisses the tip of Wade's nose through the mask.

"I love you too, you big sap."

In a few minutes he'll have to get up and make breakfast so they can both take their medicine, but for now they have each other and that's enough.