Wade Wilson's Guide to Studying Your Spider

Chapter 6: Dial Tone

The bath and massage were meant to loosen his skin, and if they did, Wade shudders to think about what it would be like if Peter didn't do that. He doesn't want to make it worse, so he gives Peter a minute to catch his breath.

"Alright, I'm going to pick you up now."

Peter grunts.

"Brace yourself." He slips his arms under Peter's legs and back, as tender and gentle as picking up a kitten, but Peter still cries out in pain, hiding his face in Wade's shirt, fighting not to pull away. Wade hurries to the bedroom, kicking the door open.

"Where to? Bed? Blanket?"

"Floor."

Right. Fibers aren't good. Come on, Wade, you know this. He sets Peter on the floor and Peter immediately curls back into the fetal position, taking in deep gulps of air.

Once, when Wade was a little boy, he found a spider that had fallen into a bucket of water and drowned. Its legs had curled around its body, tight and unyielding, even in death. That's how Peter looks now, curled up the way he is, and Wade doesn't like the comparison.

"Anything else I can do?"

Peter shakes his head. "No. Close the door on your way out."

Wade hadn't expected to be "on his way out" at all. His plan was to sit right there, on the floor, until Peter needed anything else, even if it was just moral support. Peter is too distracted to notice Wade's hesitance, or the flicker of doubt that curls his shoulders inward.

"I don't mind sitting here with you."

"Please," Peter whispers, turning his head towards the floor. "It's easier by myself."

Wade mulls that over. "Is this an 'I have to face this myself' hero thing? Or an 'I don't want you to see me like this' ego thing? You know I don't mind-"

"Wade," Peter says, eyes flashing. "I can feel you next to me. I can feel it every time you move. Every time you blink. Every time you breathe. Please, just," he tapers off with a broken, overwhelmed sob, "Go. Please. It's too much."

Wade is already on his feet and out the door. He pauses just before he leaves, opening his mouth to ask if he needs anything, and then snaps it shut and closes the door softly behind him. The longer he's in there, the worse he's making it for Peter.

Yeah, that sounds about right, one of the voices chirp.

"Shut up," Wade growls, even if it beats true in his chest. He stands outside the door, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Can Peter hear that too? He stops.

Well, what's he supposed to do now? Go home? He can't go home knowing Peter is a crying, heaving, curled-up mess on his floor. But there's nothing he can do about that. If Peter can feel him breathing just by being in the same room, then all his other senses were probably going haywire too. Sensory overload hell.

Maybe it'd be better if it did leave. Not all day, just for an hour or two. Let Peter get into the groove of things. He didn't tell Wade how long it was supposed to last, or how to help, and Wade really didn't want to go. What if Peter needs him?

Wow, egotistical much? He doesn't need you, genius. How many times has he done this on his own? He's not going to fall apart because you're gone. Way to put yourself on a pedestal.

Wade let out a breath. The voice is trying to be mean, but it's right, actually.

Yeah! Wait...

Peter's done this on his own for...well, however long he's had his powers, which was ever since he was in high school. He's gone through this long before he met Wade. He'll handle himself just fine.