Heavy Healing

19 Wade

He trucked his heavy bag up to Peter's apartment, chest tight with nerves. Would he say something? Would he shed light on what had happened? Should he insinuate he had pieced together what had happened? Probably not but he kind of wanted to. But Peter was hard to pin down, flighty in his own unique way. Maybe that was why Spider-Man was such a prick? He was compensating, either making up for the lack of stability in his real life by being firm or commanding in his alternate life.

He used the key this time to unlock the apartment door and set the key on the counter, locking it once more, thoughts drifting to the day his friend had been agitated about leaving. He wondered if that wasn't something bigger than he'd first thought it to be.

"Wade?" Peter called out, his tone giving away no hint of the pain he knew he was in. It made him sad. Not that Peter didn't sound in pain but that he had the capacity to hide pain that well.

"Just me." He called back, hoping the brunette would rest assured and calm down. He set aside the groceries and took the first aid items into the bathroom, sighing when he set the goods down. "You ready for a lot of stinging?"

"I guess." The young man didn't look up to meet his eye. The answer was no.

"I'm sorry." He said, turning to unpack his supplies and pulled on a pair of gloves. "We could do this on the bed? You'd be elevated and it wouldn't be so.... Uncomfortable."

"I don't want to puke in the bed."

"I can grab a bucket." He offered.

"No. Keep the mess in here," Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. "I'm not . . . I don't want to deal with that." He sounded like he was ready to pass out.

"Are you tired because you're in pain or is it from something else?" Bloodloss? It shouldn't be low blood sugar yet, it had only been an hour or so.

"I'm fine. Wade you don't have to do this, please. I don't want to owe you something for this please just go." The brunette shook his head and looked over. "I know you're trying to help but I don't want your help. Please." Peter was gripping the towel he'd been given to cover up. He wasn't meeting Wade's gaze, but his expression had hardened and he looked more upset and in pain now than he had when he'd arrived with the bag of food.

He knew this was also a possibility, that Peter might choose to back off when asked to produce an answer to Wade's questions. Pushback seemed natural. Spider-Man was well-known for his identity issues.

"You won't owe me anything, Peter. I'm doing this because I know you won't give me an alternative. And unless you want to stand up and march me out of your apartment by the arm, then you're going to sit back and suffer through this. I know if you really wanted me gone, you could punt my ass out of here if you so desired. Pain or not."

"You're saying that because of that incident with the car?" the brunette asked, annoyance lacing his question. To his benefit, it sounds more like anxiety anger than Peter being genuinely angry with him over what he was doing.

"That and other things. Are you going to give me any clues as to what happened or are you just going to get more agitated the longer I stand here?" He asked, watching Peter's eyes dart toward the wadded-up bloody hero suit for a fraction of a second before coming up to meet his again.

"I don't want to explain anything. But I think you have your own ideas and a story that you want me to tell you." Peter glanced away, reaching back and sitting up, grimacing as he got up onto the edge of the tub and slowly slipped back into the porcelain bath. His muscles flexed and he focused on the man's figure. Peter was strong. The guy was skinny and that made the power within his body deceptive. His abdomen flexed and even while hunched and sitting in an unflatering position Wade could see how built he was. He was strong in the way an animal was strong, unsuspecting, and disproportionate. It was a little . . . terrifying actually.