“You’re fine.” Wade said casually, holding both his hands over the hole on Peters side, trying to hold the blood in. “Stop bitching, you’re totally fine.”
“I’m not.” Peter whispered and his head dropped back into the ground.
“No, no.” Wade insisted. “You’re fine. It’s like a scratch Spidey. Man up.”
“Wade.” Peters mask had been ripped off some time ago, and his lips curled in a painful smile. “This is a hell of a scratch.”
“You’re fine.” Wade repeated and this time his voice cracked, his fingers shaking even as he tried to stem the blood flow, tried to hold Peters abdomen together, tried not to think about how pale Peter was.
“Honestly.” He tried again, tried to laugh. “I’ve had paper cuts worse than this.”
“What, like when a paper factory fell on you?” Peter tried to laugh but just coughed instead, wet and red and Wade closed his eyes against it.
“I’m just saying it was a paper cut. So is this.”
“You’re such a smart ass.” Peters voice was already softer and that made Wade want to scream. “I love you.”
“I’d love you more if you quit staining my suit with this mess.” Wade retorted.
“Sorry.” Peters eyes fell closed. “Sorry about your suit. Sorry about… this. All I wanted to do was have a date night. Stupid. Superheroes can’t have calm date nights.”
“Yeah. Worst date idea ever. Some villain called Rhinoceros. Why don’t you have nice arch enemies? Batman’s enemies tell jokes and riddles. Why are yours all insane?”
“My bad.” When Peter took a breath, Wade could hear the rattle and shook his head.
“Don’t talk anymore. Just um…I’m going to get you home and get you stitched up and give like 24 hours to heal then I’m gonna pound your ass into the mattress as punishment for making me worry.”
“Sex as punishment?” Peter smiled again, just a bare shadow of his usual grin. “Kinky.”
“Please.” Wade gave up trying to pretend. “Please, Pete just let me get you home. Please be better tomorrow.”
“Honey.” Weak, so weak and too light, Peters hand brushed over his jaw, over the lips he’d kissed thousands of times, over the scars he’d traced a million times in the dark. “Honey, I love you.”
“I love you too. I love you too, so don’t do this. Don’t leave me. It’s a fucking paper cut, Pete. Come on.”
Wade didn’t even try to hide his tears, just dropped his forehead to rest against Peters. “Don’t leave me. I won’t survive without you. I’ll just get fat on Mexican food and never leave the apartment and–and–” a sob caught in his throat. “I’ll never do my laundry I swear. I swear I won’t. You don’t want that. You don’t want me walking around in dirty clothes, you hate that. So you know–get your ass home and wash my jeans or I swear–Pete I swear–please. Just please.”
“Don’t listen to them alright?” Peter tapped Wades temple. “Don’t listen to them. You aren’t what they say you are.”
“Kiss me goodbye.” Peter whispered and Wade smashed their lips together, never minding the blood, searching for the taste of Peter underneath it all, desperate to cling to him.
“You aren’t what they say you are.” Peter said again, and his brown eyes flickered open. “You’re the best man I ever knew.”
“Don’t.” Wade shook his head. “Don’t you fucking dare–”
But Peters eyes had already closed, and his hand had fallen away and when Wade pressed their mouths together, there wasn’t any warm breath at all.
“Peter.” He whispered. “Pete, Pete what am I gonna do? What am I gonna do with out you? I’m not anything with out you.”
He could already feel it– the buzz in his consciousness as the voices stirred, stretched, started running their mouths again.
So many years– not enough years– with Peter had pushed them aside and now they were screaming for blood– someone’s blood, anybody’s blood, his blood–and all Wade could do was hold the torn up body of his love and reach for his gun.
