Clenched Teeth And Fluttering Eyes
Title: Clenched Teeth And Fluttering Eyes
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Summary: The first time Peter sees Wade, really sees him, he doesn’t know what to think.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Bring Me The Horizon. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: Just for future reference, when I write Wade/Peter, it’s Andrew-Garfield!Peter and Ryan-Reynolds!Wade.
[on AO3]
The first time Peter sees Wade, really sees him, he doesn’t know what to think. Wade’s suit is torn and he’s sitting with his back to a brick wall, mask in his hand. He’s panting and there’s blood on his lip, scars covering his visible skin. He’s regenerating, deep cuts slowly closing. Peter steps forward and Wade laughs pathetically, “Got my ass kicked.” Peter takes off his mask, thinking it’s only fair, and sits next to him. “You know, Spidey, you ain’t that bad lookin’.”
Peter grins, “Thanks, I guess.” He says, “My name’s Peter.” And Peter has no idea as to why he’s telling him this.
“I’m Wade.”
-
Peter hears someone picking the lock. He clings to the ceiling, waiting to jump. The second the door closes behind whoever it is, Peter goes for it. He’s throwing punches and a strangely familiar voice is going, “Hey it’s just me!”
Peter stops, “Wade?” He gets up and turns on the light, staring at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?” He holds out his hand and Wade takes it, standing up.
Wade disregards his question and says, “Nice boxers. Not gonna lie, I kind of thought you’d be a briefs guy.”
Peter suddenly feels self-conscious but doesn’t do anything, just stands there, “What do you want?” Wade walks past him and sits on the couch, throwing a bag on the coffee table. “What’s in the bag?”
“My suit. Jesus, Peter you’re like an obsessive wife.” Peter crosses his arms over his chest and Wade says, “Sorry, did I offend you, babe? Come over here and sit on my lap.”
Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to bed.”
-
Peter wakes up with an arm around his waist. He’s sufficiently confused, and everything’s blurry so he blinks a few times to clear things up. He looks over his shoulder and his breath catches in his throat when he sees Wade. He manages to slip out of his grip and go into the bathroom. He runs his hands through his hair, looking at himself in the mirror.
“What’s that on your shoulder?” Peter jumps and looks at Wade, who’s standing in the doorway.
“Scabs. Scraped against some bricks.” He asks, “What happened last night?”
“I tried sleeping on your couch but there was a spring in my back, which hurt, by the way.” Peter feels like he should say something about the way Wade was pretty much wrapped around him, but he doesn’t.
Instead he says, “Want some cereal?”
-
It kind of becomes a routine. Peter doesn’t freak out when Wade picks the door open. He doesn’t say anything when Wade slips into bed with him, his arm sliding over his waist and his breath hitting the nape of his neck. And in the morning, they eat cereal and watch the news.
Sometimes Wade cracks jokes, and Peter laughs even though he shouldn’t. He tells Wade they’re inappropriate, to which Wade tells him to stop being a prude. Wade cleans up after himself, making a comment about how Peter’s apartment is nice.
“What?”
“Your place smells sometimes.”
-
Peter doesn’t know why, but they’re watching a movie together. About halfway, Wade turns to him. Peter glances at him and Wade kisses him. It’s just for a moment and his lips are gone as quickly as they came. Peter puts his head on Wade’s shoulder, feeling oddly content.
-
It’s snowing, and Wade’s on the couch, clad in a pair of Peter’s sweatpants and a hoodie. The heater’s on, but it doesn’t do much. Wade spins a knife in between his fingers and Peter says, “I swear to god, Wade-”
“I practically do this shit for a living.” He throws it and manages to knock Peter’s empty soda can off of the counter.
“You’re going to get me killed!” He picks them up and throws the can into the garbage and the knife into the sink.
“Don’t be silly.” He puts his feet up on the coffee table and rolls his eyes when Peter comes and swats them off.
Peter sits next to him and turns on the news, listening intently.
-
Peter kind of comes to the conclusion that, yeah, Wade’s an asshole. And yeah, he really likes him.
Wade does what he wants. If he wants to save someone, he does. If he doesn’t, he either leaves them or kills them. Simple as that.
Sometimes Peter wishes he had the power to regenerate, since wounds can really slow him down.
Wade’s been bumming off of him for about five months now, but Peter’s been too tired to kick him out. “You alright?”
Peter slams the door shut, “No.”
“Shit, you look worse than I do.”
Peter glares and kicks off his shoes. “I just want to sleep.” He collapses on the couch and rests his head on Wade’s shoulder, dozing off.
-
Wade sucks marks into his skin and Peter claws his hands down his back, wrapping his legs around his waist. Wade curses and slips two spit slick fingers into him, ignoring Peter’s whimper. Peter grabs and tugs on Wade’s hair, arching up against him.
Wade’s not gentle. He’s rough and animalistic and Peter knows very well that he’s going to be sore in the morning. Peter probably shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s too far gone to care at this point. He feels the sharp end of the condom wrapper digging into his lower back, and he grabs it and throws it to the floor.
“Just-Wade.” Wade looks at him and wraps a hand around Peter’s cock, making Peter buck up into his fist. Peter throws his head back when Wade pulls his fingers out and pushes in, gripping his hips.
Peter fists his hands in the bed sheets and Wade presses his hands into his skin, sure to leave bruises. Wade leans down and crushes their lips together, sliding his tongue into Peter’s mouth. Peter grabs his shoulders and digs his nails in. Wade lets out a breathless laugh and buries his face into the crook of Peter’s neck.
Wade’s relentless and Peter doesn’t even care if they wake the neighbors. He’s hot and panting, and he can feel Wade’s breath on his skin.
Peter makes little noises and Wade wants him to be loud. He sinks his teeth into Peter’s neck, drawing out a groan. Peter tries to rut up against him for friction, saying his name. Wade grabs his arms and pins his wrists above his head. He grins and runs his tongue over Peter’s flushed skin, feeling him writhe under him.
“Wade, I can’t-fuck.” He shuts his eyes tightly and Wade snaps his hips forward, making him come without being touched.
“Shit, Peter.”
Peter looks at him, all wet lips and blown pupils, messy hair and red cheeks, and Wade loosens his grip on Peter’s wrists, coming with a low moan.
Peter props himself up on his elbows and kisses him, a small smile on his face. Wade throws the condom onto the floor and lies beside him, trying to catch his breath.
He lets Peter press himself against him, and he grabs his hand, rubbing his wrist.
-
Wade’s not in bed in the morning, and Peter frowns. He gets up and does his usual routine, before realizing that Wade’s not even in the house. He shakes his head, slightly disappointed, and makes himself some coffee.
-
He’s going to die. There is no way he can get himself out of this one. Peter gives up and sits there, bloodied and bruised, and waits for the final blow.
But the final blow doesn’t go to him. He hears a gunshot and watches as the man falls.
He looks up, and pulls his mask off, “Wade?” He tries to stand but fails, pain rushing through him. He feels dizzy, light headed.
Arms wrap around him and Wade says, “I’ve got you,” before Peter’s unconscious.
-
“You were gone.” Wade nods as he patches up Peter’s lacerations. “It’s been two weeks, Wade.”
“I know. I had work to do.” Wade looks genuinely apologetic, and Peter forgives him.
Peter reaches out and squeezes his thigh. Maybe he’s an idiot. Maybe Wade’s going to fuck him over.
But Wade presses an ice pack to Peter’s cheek and says, “You’ll be fine.”
And Peter believes him.
Author: zeropercent
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Summary: The first time Peter sees Wade, really sees him, he doesn’t know what to think.
Disclaimer: Cut and title go to Bring Me The Horizon. Not real, didn’t happen, false, etc.
Author Notes: Just for future reference, when I write Wade/Peter, it’s Andrew-Garfield!Peter and Ryan-Reynolds!Wade.
[on AO3]
The first time Peter sees Wade, really sees him, he doesn’t know what to think. Wade’s suit is torn and he’s sitting with his back to a brick wall, mask in his hand. He’s panting and there’s blood on his lip, scars covering his visible skin. He’s regenerating, deep cuts slowly closing. Peter steps forward and Wade laughs pathetically, “Got my ass kicked.” Peter takes off his mask, thinking it’s only fair, and sits next to him. “You know, Spidey, you ain’t that bad lookin’.”
Peter grins, “Thanks, I guess.” He says, “My name’s Peter.” And Peter has no idea as to why he’s telling him this.
“I’m Wade.”
-
Peter hears someone picking the lock. He clings to the ceiling, waiting to jump. The second the door closes behind whoever it is, Peter goes for it. He’s throwing punches and a strangely familiar voice is going, “Hey it’s just me!”
Peter stops, “Wade?” He gets up and turns on the light, staring at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?” He holds out his hand and Wade takes it, standing up.
Wade disregards his question and says, “Nice boxers. Not gonna lie, I kind of thought you’d be a briefs guy.”
Peter suddenly feels self-conscious but doesn’t do anything, just stands there, “What do you want?” Wade walks past him and sits on the couch, throwing a bag on the coffee table. “What’s in the bag?”
“My suit. Jesus, Peter you’re like an obsessive wife.” Peter crosses his arms over his chest and Wade says, “Sorry, did I offend you, babe? Come over here and sit on my lap.”
Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to bed.”
-
Peter wakes up with an arm around his waist. He’s sufficiently confused, and everything’s blurry so he blinks a few times to clear things up. He looks over his shoulder and his breath catches in his throat when he sees Wade. He manages to slip out of his grip and go into the bathroom. He runs his hands through his hair, looking at himself in the mirror.
“What’s that on your shoulder?” Peter jumps and looks at Wade, who’s standing in the doorway.
“Scabs. Scraped against some bricks.” He asks, “What happened last night?”
“I tried sleeping on your couch but there was a spring in my back, which hurt, by the way.” Peter feels like he should say something about the way Wade was pretty much wrapped around him, but he doesn’t.
Instead he says, “Want some cereal?”
-
It kind of becomes a routine. Peter doesn’t freak out when Wade picks the door open. He doesn’t say anything when Wade slips into bed with him, his arm sliding over his waist and his breath hitting the nape of his neck. And in the morning, they eat cereal and watch the news.
Sometimes Wade cracks jokes, and Peter laughs even though he shouldn’t. He tells Wade they’re inappropriate, to which Wade tells him to stop being a prude. Wade cleans up after himself, making a comment about how Peter’s apartment is nice.
“What?”
“Your place smells sometimes.”
-
Peter doesn’t know why, but they’re watching a movie together. About halfway, Wade turns to him. Peter glances at him and Wade kisses him. It’s just for a moment and his lips are gone as quickly as they came. Peter puts his head on Wade’s shoulder, feeling oddly content.
-
It’s snowing, and Wade’s on the couch, clad in a pair of Peter’s sweatpants and a hoodie. The heater’s on, but it doesn’t do much. Wade spins a knife in between his fingers and Peter says, “I swear to god, Wade-”
“I practically do this shit for a living.” He throws it and manages to knock Peter’s empty soda can off of the counter.
“You’re going to get me killed!” He picks them up and throws the can into the garbage and the knife into the sink.
“Don’t be silly.” He puts his feet up on the coffee table and rolls his eyes when Peter comes and swats them off.
Peter sits next to him and turns on the news, listening intently.
-
Peter kind of comes to the conclusion that, yeah, Wade’s an asshole. And yeah, he really likes him.
Wade does what he wants. If he wants to save someone, he does. If he doesn’t, he either leaves them or kills them. Simple as that.
Sometimes Peter wishes he had the power to regenerate, since wounds can really slow him down.
Wade’s been bumming off of him for about five months now, but Peter’s been too tired to kick him out. “You alright?”
Peter slams the door shut, “No.”
“Shit, you look worse than I do.”
Peter glares and kicks off his shoes. “I just want to sleep.” He collapses on the couch and rests his head on Wade’s shoulder, dozing off.
-
Wade sucks marks into his skin and Peter claws his hands down his back, wrapping his legs around his waist. Wade curses and slips two spit slick fingers into him, ignoring Peter’s whimper. Peter grabs and tugs on Wade’s hair, arching up against him.
Wade’s not gentle. He’s rough and animalistic and Peter knows very well that he’s going to be sore in the morning. Peter probably shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s too far gone to care at this point. He feels the sharp end of the condom wrapper digging into his lower back, and he grabs it and throws it to the floor.
“Just-Wade.” Wade looks at him and wraps a hand around Peter’s cock, making Peter buck up into his fist. Peter throws his head back when Wade pulls his fingers out and pushes in, gripping his hips.
Peter fists his hands in the bed sheets and Wade presses his hands into his skin, sure to leave bruises. Wade leans down and crushes their lips together, sliding his tongue into Peter’s mouth. Peter grabs his shoulders and digs his nails in. Wade lets out a breathless laugh and buries his face into the crook of Peter’s neck.
Wade’s relentless and Peter doesn’t even care if they wake the neighbors. He’s hot and panting, and he can feel Wade’s breath on his skin.
Peter makes little noises and Wade wants him to be loud. He sinks his teeth into Peter’s neck, drawing out a groan. Peter tries to rut up against him for friction, saying his name. Wade grabs his arms and pins his wrists above his head. He grins and runs his tongue over Peter’s flushed skin, feeling him writhe under him.
“Wade, I can’t-fuck.” He shuts his eyes tightly and Wade snaps his hips forward, making him come without being touched.
“Shit, Peter.”
Peter looks at him, all wet lips and blown pupils, messy hair and red cheeks, and Wade loosens his grip on Peter’s wrists, coming with a low moan.
Peter props himself up on his elbows and kisses him, a small smile on his face. Wade throws the condom onto the floor and lies beside him, trying to catch his breath.
He lets Peter press himself against him, and he grabs his hand, rubbing his wrist.
-
Wade’s not in bed in the morning, and Peter frowns. He gets up and does his usual routine, before realizing that Wade’s not even in the house. He shakes his head, slightly disappointed, and makes himself some coffee.
-
He’s going to die. There is no way he can get himself out of this one. Peter gives up and sits there, bloodied and bruised, and waits for the final blow.
But the final blow doesn’t go to him. He hears a gunshot and watches as the man falls.
He looks up, and pulls his mask off, “Wade?” He tries to stand but fails, pain rushing through him. He feels dizzy, light headed.
Arms wrap around him and Wade says, “I’ve got you,” before Peter’s unconscious.
-
“You were gone.” Wade nods as he patches up Peter’s lacerations. “It’s been two weeks, Wade.”
“I know. I had work to do.” Wade looks genuinely apologetic, and Peter forgives him.
Peter reaches out and squeezes his thigh. Maybe he’s an idiot. Maybe Wade’s going to fuck him over.
But Wade presses an ice pack to Peter’s cheek and says, “You’ll be fine.”
And Peter believes him.