New York Please Go Easy On Me

Unexplainable attatchments that for the most part arent because of the hot buns

Warnings: Kittens, panic attacks

Peter came conscious to the world wrapped in a warmth.

His wings twitched, uncomfortably in hopes to fluff out feathers that yearned to be stretched.

He remembered first time they were allowed to emerge he had always thought it felt amazing to expose them.... all up until he was quickly rejected by his designated mate. The person he had been courting and had been ready to dance with.

Only he couldn't dance... because he couldn't fly. He couldn't fly and he was tortured with the fact he still had wings. He still had wings that wanted to spread out and beat and feel the air underneath them; only they never would. Even if he wasn't ashamed of himself, and wasn't a social outcast because of them, he would still never know what it would be like to have air rush under them.

Swinging was his flying. It didn't subdue the itch in his quills but it was good enough. It was better then what any wingless would ever get to feel...

Those where the thoughts he'd wake up with with the start of ever morning. How big of a fuck up he really was.

Peter nuzzled closer to the warmth. It reminded him of being held by Aunt May. Cradled protectively, much like after he had come home after being found. After surviving being pinioned and raped. Raped over and over again. A new man each hour, only small times in between to sleep and eat before being forced open again until he'd start to bleed and then they would make the men stop coming in for a day so he could heal... but a day wasn't enough. His wounds would only get dirty and infected and worse... then they would cleanse him with rubbing alcohol and give him another day. The best they had done was make man clean him if they wanted to use him.

A whine deep in Peter throat was voiced against his will as the memories resurfaced once again clear in his mind for a second time that day. All he could see where the different faces of different men taking advantage of his inability to fight back.

"Shh it's okay." Someone said softly. Peter couldn't see them. He could only feel the warmth and soft fabric of the fluffy blanket wrapped around him. His wings shifted in discomfort again, agitation clear in the movement but Peter once again didn't act on them. He was too attached to the safe area that had been created. It reminded him of home, of safety. He didn't want to leave the small nest of comfort.

He's shifted ever so slightly in the hold of whom ever was clutching him ever so gently.

Like an unwanted boulder to the brain he suddenly realizes what is wrong with this picture. This picture he'd painted as warm and safe was indeed the very opposite he realized as he inhaled the masculine scent of the man cradling him. Peter pulls his head away quickly, the chest of the stranger coming into view as he tried to struggle away.

Now, if there was anything Wade was familiar with, it was holding kittens. And if he could describe Spidey as an animal it would most defiantly be a kitten. The spider had that cute nose and his mask had those big, innocent looking eyes. Spidey screamed kitten to Wade and he was going to treat the boy as such. Now he'd learned after having rescued a mother and her litter of eight that if you wanted to not scare the creature but still get a firm hold on the swaddled baby animal that you had to slowly but evenly apply pressure to a fighting animal's limbs to pin them without alarming the already scared creature. That way he could possibly get them to calm. It didn't always work but that didn't mean he couldn't try. Part of the key was to speak softly in order for the small creature to get used to your presence and voice.

The young cat-

(One of three I'll let you know.)

[Three too many of you ask me. God we live with a crazy old cat lady]

- that had been dozing on Peter's lap scurried away when he started to kick out, running away from the struggle.

"Spidey. Hey, it's okay. It's okay." Deadpool whispered as he managed to keep the arachnid in his arms by using his kitten capturing technique. "No ones going to hurt you. It's okay." He continued as the hero's struggling started to become less resistant as Wade refused to give up on unnoticeable wrangle the smaller in to his lap.

"I don't know if I should be more offended that you think I look like a cat or that you used your Kitten capturing technique to keep me still." 

"I myself was a bit surprised you didn't rip my arm off or something. But besides, kittens are cute and you do look like a kitten. With you and All of your cute and innocence."Wade defended before waving Peter off when the smaller raised an eye brow.

The lack of struggle doesn't stop the utter appearance of panic and terror in body language as large eyes stared back at Wade. The arachnid was as diff as a board in the merc's hold as quickly paced pants coming from the smaller was the only break in the silence between them other then the few soft reassurances offered by the assassin.

Peter couldn't understand the situation, his spider sense wasn't freaking out, nor did Deadpool look like an instant threat. He didn't look like he had sinister plans for his body. Nothing was wrong other than
the fact that it was a man holding Peter  down. It was the only factor putting him on edge and his sixth sense wasn't even bothered to lightly hum at the possible danger.

'You can't trust men. You can't. You just can't because they'll use you and force you to do what you don't want to do and you'll never be strong enough to fight back.' Peter's mind reminded him. Even if Peter was in an actual situation he knew he wouldn't be able to fight back despite himself. His fear was paralyzingly him and making him fall back into the consciousness of being a little kid again, trapped under a man's grip.

"What are you going to do?" Is the only thing Peter could manage to say as the fear itself squeezed his chest, further panic impossibly rising.

"Nothing." Is the softly spoken reply is the only response he receives from the potentially dangerous man.

"What do you want from me?" The arachnid continued with a whisper.

"Only for you to never try and do what you did tonight ever again. I don't want you to hurt yourself. I want you to let me help you, to know who's hurting you." Wade whispered right back. He the web head's finger peaking out and curling over the edge of the blanket.

Peter didn't trust the tone of the mercenary's voice. It was layered over with the pleasant, warming sound of concern but bellow it Peter could sense and hear the growl underneath. The dangerous note in the strangers voice. The other was concealing something from Peter and the arachnid didn't know how to act. His Spider-sense wasn't going off but his brain still screamed danger. It didn't matter that his sixth sense was at ease, this man was still a man, caressing Peter and appearing to care for him.

The lenses in Peter's mask remained large and terrified as he stared up at Deadpool before scrambling out of the mercenary's grip and jumping out the nearby window. Peter's mind, despite his disagreements was already using his instincts and subconscious abilities of memorizing the location for when he should need to find his way back. Peter never planned on ever seeing the red suit again but his heart had other plans.

Interesting how your mind and soul  will turn on its self when left unattended to.

Wade stared after the arachnid silently, holding the soft blanket that had just cocooned the younger only moments ago held softly in his hands. He felt something inside of him crumble at the discovery that his perfect hero had somehow been broken.

[Told you we should have locked the windows...]

Everything is unedited at this point