Peter had gotten banged up pretty badly. He knew it was bad because he was trying to decide who to call for help, instead of deciding whether to call or not. He had managed to swing away from the actual scene of the fight, far enough and high enough away to feel safe. He had been clutching his side the whole way there, nauseated at how his ribs felt like they were sliding around as he moved. His mouth tasted like blood, and his face was already puffy and swollen. He was sure that much of his body was the same under his suit. The nanotech meant it hadn’t torn, but that didn't stop blunt force from impacting his body. It was also thanks to the high tech of his suit that his stupid injured-omega-smell didn’t alert everyone near him of his situation.
He took a few deep breaths, not wanting to sound how he felt over the phone.
“Karen?” he said softly
“Have you decided who you’d like to call?” she answered, anticipating his decision
“Deadpool, please” he replied “Thank you Karen”
“Of course Peter” she responded, remaining silent while the dial tone rang softly in Peter's ears. It sounded uneven, and he figured maybe one of his ears had taken a harder hit than the other.
“What’s up Buttercup!” Deadpool answered the phone with a chipper greeting, “Are you patrolling? Want to meet up? Please say you want to meet up, it’s so boring running around without you. The banter is so lacking, solid negative one hundred out of ten.”
“Wade” Peter interjected, clearing his throat before continuing “Can you come get me? I need…I need help, I think”
Deadpool was silent for a moment, before speaking in the most serious tone Peter had ever heard from him
“Where are you?” the Alpha asked “I’ll be there as soon as I can”
“I think I can make it back to my apartment,” he said, trying to sound more sure than he felt “I just need some help when I get there…I don’t think I can reach everything that needs tending”
“Are you sure?” Deadpool asked “You’re not heavy, I can definitely carry you bridal style. Let me carry you bridal style, Baby boy.”
Peter hesitated, trying to really take stock of his state. He’d been able to swing this far without dying. The longer he waited here the more foggy he felt, so he knew if he wanted to go on his own he needed to do it soon.
“Peter, I would advise you to accept help to travel right now” Karen said in his ear, unprompted.
“It’s just a few blocks, I'll be fine” he said to both Deadpool and Karen, readying himself to jump off the ledge of the building he was on.
“I’ll see you soon?” Peter clutched his side in anticipation
“Not soon enough, but yes,” Deadpool responded, promptly hanging up the phone
Peter took a deep breath, and swung as best he could with one arm mostly usable and the other mostly not. Karen warned him of his worsening injuries a few times on the way there, but Peter ignored her. It was painful and not as fun as he usually found traveling as Spiderman, but he did eventually make it to his apartment. By the time he did, he was exhausted. Some of his vision was kaleidoscoping, and he felt freezing.
He inched the window to his bedroom up, sliding inside in what was meant to be a quiet and graceful manner. Instead, he lost his footing and half fell onto the floor, knocking over some of his college notes and a cup of pens.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, “Whatever”
“Don’t worry about it,” Deadpool said from beyond his bedroom. He came into view a moment later, wearing his full suit but no mask.
“Wade,” Peter said, giving up and laying where he’d landed on the floor, “Thanks…I’m sorry…I just-” he coughed a bit, wincing and groaning when it shifted his diaphragm in a painful way.
“Shh, shh shh, no apologies. You know I’m always here to play nurse,” Wade said, crouching down to help Peter up. He lifted Peter with ease, attempting to not cause him more pain than necessary. With Wades Mask off, Peter could smell how concerned the Alpha was.
“I’m fine,” Peter said half-heartedly, reaching up his mostly-usable arm to pull his mask off. With his face uncovered, he leaned his head against Wade's shoulder and closed his eyes. The pain in his head wasn’t getting worse anymore, but it also wasn’t getting any better. He knew Wade could smell the pain in his scent, especially with how close their bodies were right now, but he knew it was alright. He and Wade had some sort of semi-romantic thing going right now, and he trusted the man. With his life, often. And his secrets.
Wade snorted, “Well that's just straight up not true”
Wade stopped walking, and Peter opened his eyes. They were in his bathroom.
“First step, get the blood and dirt off ya,” Wade said, “Then I can see what actually needs doing. So, how do you wanna do this?”
He set Peter down gently, but still Peter groaned at the shift and felt his head rush. Even with his feet firmly on the ground, he leaned heavily on Wade's tall form for support. He felt slightly nauseous, and took a moment to collect himself. He took deep breaths in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Wade watched him do so, feeling his chest tighten and fill with rage as he saw Peter's face. It was bloody and bruised, his beautiful golden hair dyed red and his ears dripping blood. His nose looked off.
“Fuck,” Peter said again,“I think I can shower sitting down but…my head keeps swimming,”
“Are you worried about passing out or falling? I can sit on the toilet and keep you company in case you decide death by shower is the way to go. I’d never let you go in a way that wasn’t epicly epic, pinky promise,” Wade offered. He knew he smelled like a protective and possessive Alpha but he also knew didn’t seem at all in a fully alert state.
“Okay,” Peter acquiesced, “But no peeking”
“Scouts honor” Wade said, saluting Peter with his free hand. Peter moved to get in the shower, and Wade helped him step over the edge of the tub and sit down in the middle of it. Wade made sure the soap and temperature handle were both within reach. Peter sent him a tired but grateful glance, before pulling the curtain closed between them.
Wade turned to sit on the toilet. He heard Peter moving, but not turning on the water.
“You didn’t initiate death-by-shower already, did you?” He inquired
“I can’t…I can’t get my suit off,” Peter said, sounding particularly defeated from behind the curtain.
Wade was silent, unsure and not wanting to assume anything. He’d figured Peter might need a few stitches on his back, or maybe help dressing some particularly nasty wounds, but he hadn’t thought beyond that.
He was interrupted by Peter opening the shower curtain.
“If you just help me stand I can get it off,” he said, not meeting Wade's eyes.
“Okay,” Wade said, standing to help lift Peter up. Peter paused again after standing, wobbling a bit. Wade held him steady, and waited patiently for him to get his bearings. Peter pressed his hand to the middle of his chest, and his whole suit appeared to deflate off his body, crumpling to the floor of the tub.
That’s handy, Wade thought to himself. Peter stepped out of the legs of his suit, pushing it into a crumpled mess in front of him. Wade didn’t linger, but he couldn’t help but look at Peter. The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination in terms of Peter's thin but toned body- it did however hide the smattering of bruises Peter had acquired. They spattered down his back, and along his beautiful hip bones. Peter's ribs on his left side looked particularly nasty.
Peter barely had the awareness to blush or feel embarrassed, he just wanted to feel clean and whole again. He motioned for Wade to help him sit, his back facing the shower head. Once on the floor, he reached forward with a groan to turn on the water. The initial cool bit of water was unwelcome, but warmth soon followed. Peter just sat, still, in the water for a while. The warmth made him tired, and he couldn’t find the energy to move. The water only did so much on its own, running pink down the drain. He closed his eyes, resting his head on his knees.
“Peter” Wades voice pulled him partly back into the present
“Peter, do you…want help?” Wade offered tentatively
Peter looked over at him from where he sat. He hadn’t realized he’d forgotten to close the shower curtain after turning the water on. Wade had a concerned look on his face, and was kneeling next to the tub, leaning on the lip of it.
“Peter?” Wade prompted again
Peter just nodded
“Okay,” Wade said, “cool. Cool cool cool.”
He reached over from the side of the tub, a bit of an awkward angle, but luckily he had long arms. He squeezed some soap into his hands, starting with Peter's hair. He massaged the soap in, lathering it into Peter's hair. He tried to be gentle, unsure if there was a particular spot Peter had hit. Peter leaned his head back into Wade's hands as much as he could without letting the shower waterboard him. By the time Wade was satisfied with Peter's hair, he noticed Peter's eyes were closed. He was clearly still awake, as he was sitting up and responding with soft little sounds or hitches in his breath at discomfort. Somewhere along the way, Peter had started to purr. Wade wasn’t sure if Peter knew he was doing it.
The purring continued while Wade moved down Peter's body, focusing on his back. He continued to be as gentle as he could while cleaning off any blood, and taking stock of Peter's wounds. He cleaned off Peter's chest, his knees and legs.
“Peter,” Wade said softly, “I’m going to hand you the loofah and you need to do this part yourself, okay?” Peter peeked open his eyes, taking the loofah from Wade. Wade turned his head while Peter gave his lower body a quick scrub. Much to Wade's disappointment, his interrupting and prompting had paused Peters purring.
Peter didn’t acknowledge this, so neither did Wade. Wade felt a warmth in his chest that he could elicit this response from Peter. It was a sign of deep trust, vulnerability, and love from an Omega. Peter smelled how pleased Wade was, and knew it was because Wade loved to take care of him, not because he was pleased at the state of Peter. Peter had smelled his upset earlier when he’d stripped. Vaguely, Peter was aware he’d been purring. Like many developments in his relationship with Wade, he pretended to ignore it.
It wasn’t that he didn’t feel that way for Wade, it was that it scared him. And right now, he was too hurt to reckon with his body response. Too tired to stop it, not enough clarity in his head to figure out what it meant.
The water stopped falling on his back, and he realized Wade must have turned it off. He made a disgruntled noise, but stayed where he was. His limbs felt so heavy. As far as he could tell, he didn’t have any large wounds in need of stitching. His lip might need one or two, but that would be a quick process.
He felt a towel being wrapped around him, and a strong arm slide under his armpit to help him up. He let himself be lifted, and helped out of the shower. He helped dry himself off when Wade prompted him too, and once he was dry he let Wade help him into pajama bottoms.
Wade was vaguely concerned about how out of it Peter seemed, but he chalked it up to a possible concussion, and the fact that Peter knew Wade would take of him right now. And he would.
He led Peter to his bedroom, and had him sit on his bed. He gathered the supplies needed to stitch up Peter lip, just a stitch or two, and also applied a nice cream to his many bruises. His ribs seemed to already be stabilizing with Peter's healing factor. As far as Wade could tell, they weren’t setting in a completely wrong spot.
He layed Peter down after making him drink some water, tucking him in for the night. He hadn’t asked Peter if he wanted Wade to stay, and that had never been the case before, so he didn’t presume otherwise.
As he went to stand, assuming Peter was asleep, Peter's hand reached out to grab his own.
“Peter?” he whispered
“Stay?” Peter mumbled back
Wade did stay. He curled up around Peter protectively, and played with his hair as Peter fell asleep. Wade fell asleep later to the soft suns of Peter purring, incredibly pleased with himself.