spideypool oneshots

How Deep Is Your Love? Let's Find Out

Smut and Fluff

When Wade cones hone from a tiring job covered in gore and grime, he wants nothing more than to go home to his amazing boyfriend, Peter. How was he to know his spidery lover had a surprise he couldn't resist waiting?

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Whistling George Michael's 'Too Funky' under his breath, Wade shot four or five of the guys. It was your classic mission gone wrong. There was only supposed to be three guys; he was getting paid for each one separately had turned into easily twelve guys  his target's goons no doubt.

When he'd stabbed and shot his way free, brains and blood, as well as the smell of sweat on his red spandex and leather suit. He ran towards Dopinder's awaiting taxi.

"Fucking step on it!" he exclaimed, knowing the building would blow any second with about twenty or so of his bright pink and white C-4 loaded mini-grenades, but Dopinder nodded, talking casually to him as usual as they sped away.

Conversation got rolling as the Indian man asked, "How is your spidery love, Mr. Pool?"

Wade grinned, crawling into the front of the car to the passenger seat as usual, "Webs is doing pretty good. Probably waiting up for me at home. ...Shit! He's got fucking work tonight with those assclowns. Guess I've got a pretty quiet night ahead, Pin. We're here."

The car skidded to a halt as Deadpool went for the door, high-fiving the Indian man before saying a quick see you soon.

Throwing his ammo bag over one shoulder, he walked inside his building and to the elevator. This place had cost him an entire job's salary at one point as a deposit, but it was good to be able to walk around in his mercenary wear or his civilian clothes. Besides, it hadn't exactly caused a dent in his mercenary money as he called it. He used his key, kept in a specific pouch inside his left boot, smiling as he set his ammo bag down, opening the door to the room he kept all his merc garb in, unsheathing Bea and Arthur, as well as the few knives he'd brought on the job and some bullet rounds thay were too big to fit in his ammunition bag, as he hung them where they were supposed to go. He took off his mask, something he'd only taken to doing when with his amazing long-term boyfriend, Peter Parker, or New York's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

He called out, "Petey? Are you home, sweetheart?" Walking into their bedroom, he found his slight, shorter, messy haired boyfriend, Peter reading a battered old paperback, clad in nothing but a pair of black boxers and a beat up, old light blue Star Wars t-shirt looking suspiciously like it belonged to the merc but due to the spider's slight frame, the thin shirt left nothing to the imagination. Wade's mouth practically watered at the sight. He was about to speak, but Peter beat him to it.

"Hey Wadey, I was just waiting to shower. ...You look like you could use one too. Want to join me?" The brunet asked, getting up and putting a scrap of newspaper in the page he was on before closing the book, meeting his boyfriend's pale blue eyes, grinning. He knew what even the mere idea or hint towards a joined shower did to the merc with a mouth.

The mercenary took off his gloves, leaving them on the bedside table as he took off his boots. His breath hitched at his boyfriend's words, "It has to be my motherfucking birthday, or an occasion, or well, shit, something ! Petey-pie, you can't just do this shit to me sweetheart..." Wade replied, voice a little breathless. He walked over to the younger man, hugging him tight but moved to pick him up, spinning him around with a huge, goofy grin. He was happpy with Peter, the happiest ever remembered being. The spider was literally the only light in his dark fucked-up mess of a life.

Peter held on tightly to him, cording his arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as he replied, trailing his soft fingers over his boyfriend's jaw, "It's okay if you don't want to, darling. " he assured him, brown eyes meeting Wade's.