Chapter Text
Peter Parker had the worst luck. He was in too deep to turn back now and he was stuck, in trouble, without a plan, and the one person that he knew he could count on to get him out of said trouble, was the reason why he was in the situation in the first place! So there he was, up the river without a paddle and it was his own damn fault.
Now, you might be wondering why a man currently eating Strawberry Fudge Swirl out of a waffle cone could consider his luck bad, but that was because the ice cream itself was a ruse, a trick. Peter had not been 'asked out' for ice cream like his companions might have claimed. No, instead, he had been forced out his window at a quarter to eight in the morning and dragged halfway out of Queens in order to have the sugared monstrosity shoved in his face.
He was still eating it, of course. It was free ice cream. And begrudgingly worth the early morning.
"It's limited edition," Deadpool—Dadpool?—Wade explained, munching on his own cone. They were in the shade of a large tree in the park, watching Ellie as she swung. Her face and hands were sticky with what remained of her ice cream. Wade's face was obscured by the hood he wore. "They're only going to have it for a month."
Peter sat on a large rock, nibbling at his cone. He'd never really considered himself one for domestic life, but he enjoyed spending time with Wade and Ellie. Deadpool still hadn't told Spider-Man about his daughter, which was… unsettling? He didn't know how Wade could trust Peter Parker more than Spider-Man with his daughter's safety but he wasn't going to betray that trust by bringing it up in the mask.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Ellie ran over from the swing. “Can we get more for my birthday?”
"It's your birthday, Ellie," Wade said, hoisting her up onto his shoulders, "you can have whatever you want."
She thought about it for a second. "Can Spider-Man come to my party?"
"Oh, uh," Wade tilted his head back to look at her and Peter caught the corner of a sharp jaw line that he could only ever admire through a layer of leather. "He's a really busy guy--"
"But we can invite him, right? He's your best friend! Wouldn't he feel left out if you didn't invite him?"
"Yeah," Peter asked with a raised eyebrow, "why don't you invite your best friend Spider-Man to your daughter's birthday? I'm sure he's heard tons about her and would definitely feel left out if he wasn't invited to his best friend's daughter's birthday. You know, since he's your best friend."
Wade gave Peter a look that said he wasn't helping. Peter hadn't been trying to be helpful. And he absolutely wasn't jealous that Spider-Man got the best friend title. Wade wasn't dragging Spider-Man out at O'god thirty in the morning. Well…he was but not intentionally.
“If he can't come, then I want an autograph!”
“Okay,” Wade said easily, “I'll see what I can do.”
The rest of the morning was spent walking through the park. Ellie road on Wade's shoulders and Peter pointed out different scientific facts. He resisted the urge to take Wade's hand. Peter still wasn't sure what all these family dates were about. We're they actually dates?
At first, Peter had just thought Wade was trying to intimidate him: showing up where he lived, dragging him out of bed. The first time, Peter thought Wade was going to murder him, but there Ellie was, waiting for them on the sidewalk. They'd gone to see the newest My Little Pony movie on the big screen.
Peter would always hang out with them until it was time for him to go to work, then he'd have a quick dinner with his aunt before immediately going on patrol where he would see Wade again as Deadpool. At this point, Wade and Ellie were more a part of his life than May was. A secret, hopeful part of him couldn't wait until the three of them could be introduced.
And that was the trick. May knew Peter Parker was Spider-Man and Wade didn't. Until Wade did know, he couldn't risk conversion between them. He'd decided to tell Wade tonight, after Deadpool invited Spider-Man to Ellie's birthday. The day flew by with anticipation and Peter had a hard time focusing on anything for long.
The anticipation and hope we're both in vain, however. After work and dinner with May, Deadpool and Spider-Man patrolled as usual. They talked and ate an insane amount of take out, they stopped three different bodega robberies, they talked more. Deadpool didn't mention a daughter or a party or an autograph.
Spider-Man didn't mention his identity.
Each night, Peter hyped himself up and each morning nursed his wounded spirit. He hadn't realized how much he wanted to tell Wade until he couldn't. When it was the day before Ellie's party and Deadpool still hadn't brought it up to Spider-Man, Peter gave up hope.
He couldn't stand the thought of Ellie being disappointed, though. At least there was one thing he could do as Peter to make up Spider-Man not coming to the party.
Peter rapped on the apartment door. It swung open before he had a chance to drop his hand. He was barreled back from the door and into the hallway wall by a mass of curly brown hair. "Peter! It's my birthday!"
“Happy birthday!” Peter hefted Ellie up from the ground, grunting and gasping and pretending to struggle as she tightened her grip around his waist. By the time Wade got to the door, Ellie was dangling upside down with her feet over Peter's shoulder.
"Hey," Wade greeted, leaning against the door frame. To Peter's disappointment, he was wearing a beanie and a mask, only allowing the skin around his eyes to be seen. The mask had kitty whiskers, which was adorable, but he had hoped Wade would feel comfortable enough in his own home to allow Peter to actually see him.
"Hey," he said with a soft grin, carrying Ellie back into the apartment. He dumped her unceremoniously on the couch. She flopped like a fish and rolled off before immediately climbing back the couch to get as close to him as she could. “Did you bring me a gift?”
“Uh, maybe! Have you been good?”
“No,” Wade answered with a grin at the same time Ellie shouted: “Yes!”
Peter shrugged his backpack off and pulled a photo frame out. It was one of his favorite Spider-Man photos he'd ever taken. He'd caught the shot right as Spider-Man crossed over the full moon. It was signed in a bright red glitter marker. As soon as the frame was out of his bag, she snatched it from his hands.
The squeel was deafening. "He wrote my name!" Ellie shoved the print over at Wade whose eyes widened in shock. "Daddy! Look! 'To Ellie, love Spider-Man!' And there's a heart! Did you see? Did you see?"
"Oh em gee! Baby, look at that!" Peter could tell Wade was playing it up a little for Ellie, but he seemed genuinely excited as well. "That's amazing! I've never gotten one of those."
"Spider-Man is your best friend," Ellie reminded him with a dramatic roll of her eyes, "you don't need one."
"She's got a point," Peter chimed in from where he was kicking his shoes off by the door. "I don't have one and I've known Spider-Man forever."
Ellie turned on him. "Did you know him before?"
Peter frowned, not quite understanding. "Before?"
"You know! Before ,” she insisted, but elaborated after a moment. “Before he was Spider-Man."
"Oh, uh,” Peter struggled with an answer as two perceptive pairs of eyes watched him. Was it getting warm in there? Maybe someone should open a window. “I, uh, only started taking photos of Spider-Man after he first appeared. JJ was willing to hire anyone who could get a clear shot and he let me work under the table." It was a tactic he had been using for years: give enough information to make the question feel answered without really answering it at all. He had perfected it on May, but she was the one who had taught him the trick in the first place, so she couldn't really complain.
"That's so cool!" Ellie hopped up and over the couch, clutching the frame to her chest. "I'm going to put it in my room!" She disappeared down the hallway with the grace of a small elephant.
When Peter drew his attention back to the livingroom, Wade had disappeared. Peter found him hiding in the small kitchen, pretending to check on the lasagna. It was his turn to lean against the doorframe. "You know you are, right?"
"What?" Wade was busying himself with the oven so he didn't have to look at Peter.
"Spider-Man's best friend." It was easier to admit out of the mask, but the answer would have been the same either way—if Wade bothered asking.
"No, I'm not." He pulled salad fixings from the fridge. "Spidey hardly puts up with me."
Had that been why Deadpool hadn't invited him to the party? "I'm serious, Wade. He doesn't have a lot of people. You're really important to him."
"He has you," Wade pointed out falsely.
Peter scoffed a laugh, "We aren't exactly friends ."
Wade finally turned to him, shoulders set. "Fuck buddies still count as buddies, Pete."
Peter choked on his spit. Was that what Wade thought? "We aren't—I'm not—we don't—"
"Spidey's never given me an autograph." Wade pointed out. As if he'd even asked for Spider-Man's autograph since they'd met.
"It wasn't for me, Wade,” Peter bemoaned. How had he managed to get his life this mixed up over what was supposed to be a nice gesture? “It was for Ellie—your daughter. It was supposed to make you happy."
"I am happy,” he didn't sound it. “Ellie is really happy. She deserves that."
" You deserve to be really happy, too,” Peter muttered, but he didn't know what to say to fix anything. He seemed to just be making it worse. Maybe he didn't have to say anything, though. Maybe he kept waiting for words when he should just take action.
"Wade," Peter warned. "I'm going to do something and I need you not to laugh."
"Is it funny? Because you can't expect me not to laugh if—"
Peter kissed Wade over his mask. There was a moment where everything was still and Peter was terrified he had really gone and fucked it up, but the moment passed as soon as Wade started kissing him back. Despite fabric between them, the kiss sent shivers down Peter's spine.
After a long moment, Wade pulled back to look at him, “You're sure you aren't fuck buddies?”
“ Wade ,” Peter groaned.
“Okay,” he laughed, “just checking.” Wade kissed him again and then gave a few lingering pecks as they heard Ellie racing back down the hall. It might not have been the confession had meant to make, but he couldn't quite bring himself to regret his choice. He was grinning too much.