Spider-man swung on to the roof and paused when he saw a familiar red figure. He practically bounced across the asphalt but seemed to sober as he saw the hunched form of his friend.
Sliding next to him and pulling off his mask, Peter asked: "What's up 'pool?"
The question hung in the air while Wade gathered his thoughts and came back to reality. Peter waited, leaning back on his hands and heaving out a long breath.
"Sometimes, I forget how breakable you are. All the red spandex and spider-ness go a long way to hide that, at the end of the day, even with your healing, if you get killed, you won't come back. She threw you through four floors, Pete. what if next time it's off a building?" a beat, "I don't want to lose anyone else." he added quietly.
Peter shifted closer and leaned against him comfortingly. No words were spoken, but the unsaid 'I'm here, I'm alive, it's okay' was clear as day. Wade relaxed as if the strings holding him up had been cut and let out a shaky breath. Peter put an arm around him, and he sagged into the embrace.
This wasn't permanent. Anything could happen tomorrow -Spider-man could find himself at the end of a gun with nowhere to go, a web could snap too close to the ground, Peter's bus could crash- but he was here now. He was safe. He was alive.