Wade Wilson's Guide to Studying Your Spider

Wade wakes up by himself.

He pats the web mesh beside him, looking for the bundle of warmth that was supposed to be cuddled up to his side, and finds nothing.

Sitting up, he squints, scoping out the darkness as he waits for his eyes to adjust. There's a dark shape sitting near the mouth of the web, staring at the room beyond. It's cute how protective Spider-Peter is. Annoying in a please-stop-moving-you're-opening-your-wounds kind of way, but still cute.

Wade heads his way. "I don't know what you expect to find out there, Spider-Babe. The computers aren't going to come to life if that's what you're worried about."

Without missing a beat, Spider-Peter responds hoarsely, "You've obviously never met Ultron. I'd be scared of a toaster where he's involved."

Wade stops in his tracks. "Peter?"

"Hope you weren't expecting someone else."

"Peter!" Wade wraps his arms around the other man, pulling him against his chest. "God, I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming back! I've missed you! Oh, shit - sorry, didn't mean to hug you so hard." He lets go and Peter rubs his bandaged torso.

"Technically," he says, "I never really left."

"Technically, you may as well have." Wade turns Peter over so they're face to face, but Peter avoids his gaze by planting those beautiful brown eyes (Not black! Hallelujah!) anywhere but on Wade. Ouch. Calm down insecurities, it's not like that. Maybe. Hopefully. "So, where've you been all this time?"

"I told you," Peter says, picking at a web strand next to his knee, "I never left. I've just been...out of it. Still in the car, just in the back seat."

"Nice metaphor," but Wade pauses, hesitant, hairless eyebrows curling up in concern. "So, how much of...that do you remember?"

Peter's shoulders crumple like paper and he stands, walking back into the nest. He crosses his arms and limply paces, staring at the sloped walls, floor, and ceiling. "I've never made a web like this before," he murmurs. "It's cool. Explains why my wrists hurt so much, though."

Wade follows a few feet behind, inspecting Peter as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," Wade agrees. "The service was exceptional, would come here again. Love the subject change, by the way. So subtle. I'm not at all thinking about the question you're trying to avoid."

Peter presses his lips together and purposefully tugs on a few web strands. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Open it again. "Why does my mouth taste weird?"

"We really doing this?"

"Kind of coppery? And-" Peter smacks his lips. "Earthy?"

"Because we fed you ground-up meat shakes," Wade says, sidestepping so he's next to Peter. "Because you were biting and hissing and had big ol' bug eyes. Because you were kidnapped by a bunch of overconfident pervs. Is this ringing a bell yet? I haven't even mentioned all the chirping and over-protectiveness."

Peter's mouth clicks shut and when he refuses to look at Wade, Wade shoves himself between Peter and the wall he's having a staring contest with. He never did like being ignored. It gave him a complex. A bad one.

"Remember what Mama Teresa said about opening up about our feelings?"

"Did Mother Teresa say that?"

Wade shrugs. "I don't know. It might've been Oprah. Don't distract me."

Peter limps back to the mouth of the nest, a feeble escape if Wade ever did see one. He reaches out to pull him back but stops at the last second. There's no telling what state Peter is in now. He could slip back into spiderspace the minute he feels cornered, and then it's back to square one. As much as Wade loved watching Spider-Peter crawl around and glare at things, he is craving a conversation that isn't a hodgepodge of hissing and clicking.