Summer
Summer thought it would never happen.
He never thought he’d be the victim of a kidnapping.
If you’d have asked him a year ago, hell, six month ago, if he thought he’d ever find himself in such a situation, he might have given you a rare laugh.
It was a laughable idea.
But now it was just a small sense of relief as a hooded figure stepped up behind Summer as he walked home in a dark cityscape. He almost smiled when a hand clamped a sweet-smelling cloth to his mouth and he breathed deep the chemicals and only put up the faintest of a struggle before letting himself collapse into the waiting arms of one of the only men Summer had trusted with so many of his secrets.
Not all of them, but most of them. More than anyone who wasn’t an Avenger knew, for sure.
Wade didn’t know that Summer was nearly impervious to medicine and poison alike.
Wade didn’t know that Summer had enough strength to snap the mercenary three times ‘til Sunday, as Tony would say.
He didn’t know Summer sometimes put on a black and white spider costume and fought with the Avengers.
Didn’t know Summer preferred the name ‘Summer’ over ‘Peter Parker.’
He didn’t know that as far as Summer was concerned that the boy who had owned that name was obliterated nearly fifteen years ago, in the world’s deepest, darkest hole, otherwise known as The Red Room.
But Wade knew other things.
Like how Summer worked at Stark Industries in his own lab even though he was barely nineteen.
That Steve Rogers found Summer when he was fifteen. And even if Summer had never told Wade about the reconditioning and training he was put through before he was found, Wade knew Summer had seen some really bad things, even if he didn’t know it was Summer who had done them. When their texting had become phone calls, Summer had called Wade more than once when he woke up crying from nightmares of blood and blood and blood, Wade whispering the softest, sweetest things until Summer could breathe again.
Wade knew that Summer wasn’t a morning person but woke before dawn every day anyway.
Knew that even if Summer never admitted it, he liked the way ‘Peter’ sounded as long as it was Wade who was saying it.
He knew how to make Summer smile, make him laugh.
Wade knew how lonely Summer felt. “Sometimes I think I could just disappear,” Summer had whispered into his phone one night as he lay in bed, his eyes stuck on the night sky outside his window, “Sometimes I don’t think anyone in the whole fucking world would miss me if I stepped off the Empire State building.” He hadn’t meant to be so truthful, hadn’t meant to bare his depression so clearly.
“I’d miss you,” Wade had whispered back, and Summer believed with all his heart the thick emotion in Wade’s voice.
Tears swam into Summer’s eyes, and honesty was all he’d had in the moment, “I’d miss you too Wade.” And he cried softly.
“Let me come see you,” Wade had asked. It hadn’t been a new request. Summer had skirted previous requests, had made excuses and jokes. He’d tried half-heartedly to convince Wade he’d want nothing to with him if they ever met in person, but Wade had stated every time that there was nothing more fictitious than Wade ever not wanting to meet him in real life. And though the first time had been laced with a trace of guilt and lies, with every utterance, truth wrung truer and truer.
So, this time, whether it be because Summer was feeling so vulnerable, or because it seemed like the right time, Summer had finally given Wade his address with an attached, “I think I love you.”
Wade had been quite for a long time before he whispered, “Peter.”
The next day, Summer woke and put on his costume of Peter Parker knowing Wade would be coming for him. He showered and changed into clothes from a wardrobe handpicked by Natasha, Steve and Summer to help make him seem both unassuming but age appropriate. Faded skinny jeans, plaid shirts over nerd pun t-shirts that Wade seemed to love every time Summer sent him a selfie, and battered, black high-top converse.
He sent a good morning text to Wade before he grabbed his work bag and his spider sense hummed uncomfortably the entire walk to work that he was being watched, and Summer knew, even if he couldn’t see him, that it was Wade stalking him.
Wade went everywhere Peter did for over two weeks, always staying out of sight, and maintaining minimal contact with Summer over the phone and text messages, apologizing a few times that work, at the office he had told Summer he worked in, was keeping him busy and when work cooled down, he would be there with Peter.
But in a weird way, Summer felt closer to Wade than he’d ever been. One of his days off, he’d walked down to the park and felt Wade follow him from a distance, he texted Wade the entire time, even stopped and lazed under a tree and cloud gazed, imagining Wade beside him. Wade had surprised him by calling him, Summer grinning like an idiot as he unlocked his phone and put it to his ear, “Hey, Baby boy,” Wade whispered like a secret meant for only for him.
“Wade,” Summer grins, sitting up to play with his shoe laces.
“I got your selfie. Who gave you the right to be so damn cute?”
Summer lets himself blush.
He’d learned many things in The Red Room, how to look aggressive, attractive, unassuming. He’d seen himself in the mirror, light brown eyes, pale cheeks from working indoors for a living, and messy, brown curls that Summer and even his superiors as a child and teen had given up on years ago. He wasn’t sure he’d call himself cute.
“Just you,” Summer admits for Wade. “Only you.”
Wade snorts, “Yeah, whatever, we both know you live and breath that cute shit. You don’t have to lie to me, Baby boy. We’re in love remember?”
Five months of Wade and as often as Summer feels like he’s playing a role, he also knows he’s given more of himself into this that he’s kept for himself. By no half measure, he knows, he’s fallen in love with the man he’s deceiving and being deceived by.
Painfully, this is the most truthful Summer has ever been with another human.
He rubs a hand over his mouth, pondering the shape of Wade’s mouth against his own as he’s been doing for months.
“Peter?” Wade asks urgently and Summer wonders what his face was showing.
“I wish you were here with me,” Summer whispers, “I wish you were right here with me.” He closes his eyes and imagines the taste of the mercenary’s tongue.
Summer knows the pictures Wade has sent of himself are not accurate representations. He knows that Weapon X has marred the beautiful man in the pictures he sends, even if Wade has never told him so.
Steve had handed Summer a more current photo with the file that started the whole charade and so Summer knew exactly what Wade looked like, every inch of mutated skin from multiple screen shots taken off security footage where Wade had lost his mask and half of his suit in an explosion he had pulled himself out of and killed an entire army base of men somewhere in Central America.
So, it was scared lips and rough hands Summer imagined on his skin.
“Soon,” Wade had promised and Summer’s thoughts wondered back to the promise as Wade shifted Summer in his arms to yanked the work bag off Summer’s shoulder to his own, and grunting as he threw Summer onto his shoulder carrying the limp body over to the car parked on the dark street. He popped the trunk and Summer got the wind knocked out of him as Wade dropped him heavily in the trunk. Wade flipped him to his stomach and zip tied Summer’s hands behind his back and then his ankles together. He checked all of Summer’s pockets, pulling free Peter’s pre-prepared wallet, phone, and Stark Industries ID card before slamming the trunk closed and moving toward the drivers’ side and starting the car.
For one long moment Summer was relieved. This was the goal. He’d spent the last five months stringing Wade along to get exactly where he’d ended up. Summer was now one step further in his mission. One step closer to the end of this.
But Wade… he hadn’t said one thing. Maybe he he’d been a better goddamn actor than Summer had given him credit for, or maybe Wade had never cared, making him the best actor in the world.
Give that man a fucking Oscar.
Wade
“For Ellie. For Ellie. This is for Ellie.” Wade had to remind himself for the billionth time. And it solidified his actions even if it did nothing to appease his guilt.
He slammed his head into the steering wheel before shoving his keys in the ignition.
He couldn’t get Peter’s eyes out of his head. He looked like the kind of soft, pretty thing people in the olden days would have locked in a tower in the middle of a volcano and guarded with a dragon
But then he circled back to Ellie. Her slumped form crying herself to sleep through a screen Wade could never reach through, and he couldn’t exactly call the police, he was a wanted criminal in almost every country there was.
Weasel had managed to find Peter’s number to his untraceable Stark phone before he’d given the most sentimental pep talk Wade had ever heard, “Don’t fuck this up.” before packing as little of his shit as humanly possible and ran for his fucking life. Apparently, some human atrocities had been committed in the name of digging up any dirt on Steve Rogers’ adopted kid, and Weasel was much more likely to stay dead if caught.
Wade decided he’d make their first contact seem like a complete accident and lure the kid in somehow. Catfish the SOB, it wasn’t like he had much to go on. The Avengers had worked like dogs to hide the kid from the world, there had been only one photo of the kid in the newspaper though it was pulled not even a day later, but Wade couldn’t even figure out where Peter had gone to elementary. It’s like they’d scrubbed him off the face of the planet.
Everything Wade knew about Peter, the kid had unfolding over time, but it all started with one bad text, ‘Sooo about those drinks I promised to buy you. You free tonight?’
‘Um… wrong number?’
‘No. I don’t think I do. You wrote it down very carefully. I totes didn’t accidently wash off some of it after I went to take a piss. No. Not me. Only an idiot would do that to a redheaded fox like you. I’d never do that to a lady quite as beautiful as you.’ He’d thought he might have been laying it on a bit thick, but a few hours later he got a response.
‘First off, tough break man. Second, I don’t have red hair, I am not a fox, and am not a woman. I am quite male, pale, awkward and bad at human interaction, just ask my therapist. Here look,’ and then he’d stopped Wade’s heart by sending the world’s most adorkable selfie this side of existence.
He was wearing thick reading glasses and an Iron Maiden joke shirt where Ironman was dressed in an early Victorian ball gown. A leather book was open in his lap, the label unreadable. And though the face in the selfie was an obvious match to the only article photo the camera-shy son of a superhero had been caught in, Wade was struck by how handsomely the face had aged. Brown eyes, lips curved in a perfect cupid’s bow, elegant cheek bones tickled by a wild mane of brown hair.
“Sweet mother, have mercy,” Wade had gasped to himself and the first rush of guilt hit him like a truck. This is where his mantra of ‘For Ellie’ became a necessity. It wasn’t because the boy drop-kicked drop-dead gorgeous a few feet deeper, Wade had killed the beautiful and ugly alike, but he’d only just lost Ellie and now he was about to rip this boy from an actual superhero.
It was a true moment of introspection to ponder how terrible of a person he was that he was only now questioning it, and that he knew he wasn’t going to change his mind. Peter B. Parker was going to be in the hands of Hydra if Wade had to die trying. For Ellie.
Wade put the car in gear and started driving. For Ellie.
Peter in the beginning had been almost painfully shy and quiet, letting Wade talk his ear off, but as the weeks had passed Peter started joking, started flirting, started stopping Wade’s heart with confessions that show Wade more and more behind a curtain Wade fears he knows all too well. Pain. Torture. NightmaresFlashbacksHelpmesaveme.
Peter has never said it outright, but he’s been through hell.
With that in mind, the severity of the boy’s loneliness makes sense, why it had been so goddamn hard to find him.
JesusfuckingChrist.
What is he doing?
For Ellie.
Wade drove them far outside the city. Disabling and throwing Peter’s phone out the window as he drove. The glow of the city fading unto the wall of pine trees.
Summer
The long game. The longest game on earth.
Summer blew his hair out of his eyes. His arms were starting to cramp up. Sure, he could have just flexed his wrists and snapped the ties, but Summer has the long game to account for.
Games.
Wade and Summer were good at those.
“Close your eyes,” Wade whispered over the speaker phone.
Warm water, fresh from his hot shower, drips from Summer’s bare skin to his soft comforter. “Why,” he asks laying flat on his back and closing his eyes. “Is this some sort of test?”
“Test?” Wade laughs and Summer wrinkles his nose with frustration, “It’s not a test Baby boy. It’s a game.”
A smile melts his agitation. “Should I count to ten then go find you?”
“Just close your eyes Babyboy,” Wade’s voice is thick and hot in Summer’s ear and he gulps as his heart picks up its pace.
“My eyes are closed,” he whispers meekly.
“Of course, they are,” Wade praises, and all the little hairs on Summer’s skin ripple to attention. “Now,” Summer hears Wade shift positions through the phone, “What are you wearing?”
Oh, they’ve played his game before. Never in the middle of the day like this, but Summer isn’t complaining.
Summer nearly snorts, “You know I just got out of the shower.”
“So, you’re in a towel?” Wade asks playfully.
A warm blush blooms over his cheeks and down his chest, as he lets his voice go sensual, “We drip dry in this house, Wade.”
Wade makes a choking noise, but regains his composer a second later, “Oh, aren’t you such a tease? It’s a good thing I’m right there with you, isn’t it, Babyboy?”
It takes Summer a moment to let himself imagine it behind his closed eyes, but Wade helps him along. “We’re both wet from that shower, aren’t we? It was hot wasn’t it? The heat of it is still clung to our skin, hot and humid, Babyboy, can you feel my hands on you?”
Summer starts to shiver at the thought of hands on his skin that he didn’t see coming and his own hands grip toohardtoohard on his thighs and he’s slammed with a hopeless feeling of helplessness, a flashback. Hands too hard, too tight, going where ever they please, slipping over his bare chest, between his legs. He isn’t allowed to swipe them away. NotAllowedNotAllowed.
“Shh, Babyboy, I’m right there. I’m not there to hurt you. I’d never hurt you, would I Peter?” Wade whispers gently and Summer whimpers. Wade can always tell when he starts to spiral like that. “My hands are gentle Babyboy, they only go where you want them. Where do you want them? Put them there, drag my hands where you want them, tell me where.”
Summer loosens his fingers and turns his face toward the phone at his ear on the bed. Wade wouldn’t hurt him, he chants it in his head like a payer and starts to move. “Your hands start on my thighs. So warm on me, Wade.” He whispers, “So hot. One moves to the inside of thigh, just your knuckles against the skin, like a promise of a kiss, like a bruise waiting to happen.”
“You like bruises, Baby?”
“Only if it’s you leaving them on me,” Summer whispers, “Just you.”
“Where’s my other hand, Baby?”
“It’s on my stomach, Wade, sliding across my skin. Your skin is so hot, I feel like I’m melting under you. You settle your hand on my neck, the tips of your fingers in my hair. Wade,” he can’t help the hint of desperation in his voice, “I want to kiss you.”
“Well, you can’t kiss me very good with my fingers in your mouth, can you? Will you suck on them for me Baby?”
Summer feels himself arch off the bed as he slides his own hand over his neck and slips his fingers into his mouth, dragging the pads of them across his tongue, imagining the taste of Wade inside in his mouth. He digs the knuckles of his other hand into the inside of his thigh, digging a rough trail of ache down his legs as he started shivering with the beginnings of need.
He hums desperately around his fingers.
“So hot in your mouth,” Wade’s voice is rocky, and Summer feels himself follow Wade’s fantasy and it’s Wade’s fat cock in his mouth. “You’re so hot around me, Babyboy, so wet and hot and pretty.” He presses his fingers in deeper, adds another finger and he sucks hard and urgently. He doesn’t move his head, just pushed and pulls his fingers in and out. Wade is fucking himself in and out. Kneeling over Summer and dipping himself in at whatever goddamn pace he wants.
“So good for me Babyboy, are you hard for me? Don’t touch it yet, okay?” Summer hadn’t been paying attention to the urgent thrumming between his legs until Wade had pointed it out and now it’s all Summer can think to touch himself. He whimpers. “I know. I know. Wade is so mean. Hold your legs apart for me, sweetheart.”
Summer uses his knuckles to push his thigh to the side, his other falling to the side in a mirror of the action.
“Now take those wet fingers of yours and put them to good use Baby, I want them inside you.”
Breathing like he’s been running for hours, Summer doesn’t bother starting small, he pushes two fingers passed his rim without pretext, choking on his own breaths as his body burns in a perfect mixture of agony and excitement. His eyelids flutter and tears seep from the corner of his eyes, “Wade!” he gasps as he presses the pair of fingers in as far as his hand will allow. “Oh Wade.” Summer can almost feel all of Wade’s weight settled over him. Can feel the huge man’s hips forcing his legs wide and his hard chest pressing Summer into the mattress. Wade’s hot fucking mouth on his throat sucking and licking at his skin, burning all sense of self away as Wade’s cock spears between his legs.
But Wade is a huge man, two of Summer’s fingers wouldn’t ever do him justice. He pulls his fingers out and adds a third wet finger and Summer is pulsing in time with Wade’s fucking breathing.
Summer isn’t thinking clearly enough to recognize Wade is still talking, leading Summer with his gasped words, painting the picture Summer falls for like he has no other choice.
He rolls to his knees and fucks himself with his fingers as he pressed his face into the bed next to his phone, not even recognizing the little sounds and grunts and moans of pleasure dripping from his mouth. He adds a forth finger and coaxes his tinging prostate and Summer is lost in the sounds of Wade fucking into his fist on the other side of the phone. “So hot,” Wade groans.
“Wade,” Summer pants, “Wade, I’m going to… Wade. Help me. I’m…”
“Come for me, Babyboy,” Wade commands. Summer’s whole body lights up with permission and he comes so hard he stops breathing. Wade pants and pants and groans as Summer shivers and shakes apart with each pulse of come from his untouched dick, painting over his comforter. Starbursts in his eyes as he pictures Wade’s fat cock spilling deep inside him.
He hears Wade come with a pouched-out noise and Summer’s knees give out as he viciously curls his fingers directly into his prostate.
He relives that sweet fantasy of Wade coming inside of him and finds it just as mouth watering as the first time, his fingers still curling and uncurling inside of him.
“Jesus Christ,” Wade huffs as he starts to come down, “Are you sure you’re not a phone sex operator Babyboy? You make all the perfect little noises.”
Summer snorts, and smiles at Wade, “Yes that’s me, Bambi eyed scientist by day, ruthless phone sex rogue by night. That’ll be 59.99 not including the tip.” A shiver racks through him as he slides his fingers out of himself.
Wade laughed out loud, “You’re all about the tip, aren’t you?”
Summer leaned back on his heels to admire his messy bed and re-dirtied skin, “No, I want the whole thing, Bigboy.”
“Oh, Petey,” Wade sighed happily, “You keep talking like that and we could be here all night, I got the refractory period of a god.”
Summer giggled, “A god you say. Is that why you like to imagine me on my knees so often?”
Wade gasped, “Maybe it is!”
The car came to smooth stop and Summer has to back himself away from his memories as he heard Wade’s heavy footsteps in gravel. He looped around to the trunk where Summer was locked away.
Luckily, the groggy, soft place Summer’s mind had dipped into played well for Summer’s supposedly drugged state.
He flinched when the trunk’s lock popped open, but didn’t even get a chance to look up before Wade caught a fist full of Summer’s shirt and hauled him out of the vehicle, his feet not even touching the ground before the huge man had Peter’s face pinned to the closed trunk’s cold surface, a sharp noise pushed out of Summer’s mouth at the force of the maneuver.
A hard line of Wade’s body pressed tight to Summer’s back and Summer metaphorically reaches for his cover. “Please, god,” he stammers, “Please man, I don’t have any money. Please I- just let me go. Just let me go.” Summer let fear shake into his limbs, lets it weep in his voice and tears swell in his eyes. “I won’t call the cops or anything.”
“Let’s play a game,” Wade whispered tightly, and Summer felt his breath go still in shock at the pure hate in Wade’s voice, “It’s called: Make One Goddamn False Move and Daddy Rogers is Picking Up Pieces of you All Across the Fucking Map. Keep your mouth shut and don’t you dare try to run.”
Something broke apart in Summer’s chest, hurt and anger warring for control. Wade had been lying? He didn’t care about Summer? Didn’t even like him? How could he?
“Wade?” Summer whimpered and the larger man retaliated by grabbing a fistful of Summer’s hair and slammed his face into the solid, cold metal trunk.
“I said, keep that mouth shut.”
Summer’s daze thickened as Wade cut his wrists and ankles free from their zip-ties. He was struggling to keep his eyes straight as Wade forced him to his feet and marched them both toward an expensive looking hotel. Summer had to lean heavy on Wade to keep himself upright because even though the boy has bones and muscles far stronger than the average man’s, Summer’s brain is still very much not.
Through his blooming concussion, Summer felt his senses flaring to compensate. His spider sense was a low tingle, letting Summer know of all the hidden weapons on his companion’s body.
Summer could hear Wade’s heartbeat sharper than he could hear his own.
But somehow his nose seemed to be the most demanding of his attention. Wade’s scent was so acute, he could taste the man’s sweat. He could smell the anger and confusion and worry all mixing with Wade’s body wash, laundry detergent, gunpower, a faint trace of blood and something sweet like he had candy in his pocket.
Then they step into the bright lobby and Summer’s training slips into focus.
Wade doesn’t stop moving, he leads them directly to the front desk, but Summer’s senses help him count the bodies in the room, to decipher threat levels before moving on to exits and entrances, finds the security camera’s, all with his eyes closed.
He opens them as they stop at the front desk.
Wade’s hand is at the small of his back, but they’re stood in a position where the receptionist’s eyes want to focus on Wade, not Summer. Summer also cannot see Wade’s face from this angle with the man’s hood pulled so far forward, but judging by the slightly stricken look the woman gets, Wade isn’t disguising his mutation. She recovers though, not gracefully, but still. “Can I help you?”
“Reservation under Wade W.,” Wade says with false cheer, and Summer keeps his features blank as she glances over at him.
He can’t tell if there is a mark on his face from getting it slammed on the trunk, but the woman’s gaze doesn’t linger, she just turns to her computer, “Your room is ready, Sir,” she chirps. Opening a drawer to pull out their room key and giving Wade a sales’ person smile. “Here you go. Enjoy your stay.”
“You bet,” Wade says readjusting the huge duffle bag on his shoulder before using the hand on Summer’s back to lead him toward the elevator.
The compartment is empty, and Summer doesn’t have to hide his discomfort of the small space as Wade marches them in.
As the doors close, Summer looks down at his hands, they’re clenched at his plaid shirt and shaking.
He glances up through his lashes at Wade but the man is already watching him from the corner of his eye. Summer can just make out his face passed the hood, he doesn’t look happy.
“Wade,” Summer whispers but gets the wind knocked out of him before he can say anymore, as Wade throws elbow into his side. He punches the Emergency Stop button and the elevator lurches to a stop but then Wade is standing over Summer, his body blocking the camera in the corner of the compartment.
Unlike when Summer had been pulled out of the trunk, Summer doesn’t stop himself from lashing out at Wade, though he makes sure to keep every ounce of his super strength in check, not that is matters when Wade catches his hands in his vice like grip, pinning them to Summer’s chest.
“Wade. No, please god. I never- I don’t- I don’t understand,” Summer begs as he’s penetrated by dark, furious eyes. “I thought- I thought,” he lets his voice catch in his throat and terrified tears overflow his eyes.
Wade gathers both of Summer’s thin wrists in one of his huge hands to bruise a hold over Summer’s mouth. “What part of Shut Up don’t you understand Babyboy? Are we going to have to gag you?” Wade’s voice is stiff now, not playful or compelling. For some reason it is throwing Summer off.
Maybe it is because the Wade Wilson Summer knows can’t play pretend serious for half a second, this person holding Summer is not the same man. But there’s honesty in Wade’s startling blue eyes, pain and anger and honesty. Wade is hurting.
He traces the edges of Wade’s face with his eyes. It’s different than it seemed over the security footage he’d seen. It was different than he’d imagined. There was more of the before picture of Wade Wilson here than he’d thought there would be. The lovely sculpture of his bone structure, the soft curve of his lips, knowledgeable depth of his stare. He was more than Summer could have prepared himself for.
Wade removed his hand from Summer’s mouth, “Go ahead,” he growled, “Tell me I’m hideous. A monster. A freak.” Summer felt the names ring in his head and sizzle down his spine. He’d felt them flung at him and felt them tear him apart.
“You think I cared about you because of how you looked,” Summer hissed, “I fell in love with a voice over the phone.” Summer gently fought against the hold on his wrists making himself look pathetic as tears forced themselves from his eyes, “Why me? I was nobody, Wade. I was just some looser trying to disappear. I’m nothing Wade. Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because they asked for you,” Wade growls.
“Who?”
“Hydra.” Summer can’t breathe. The Avengers had suspected as much when they helped set Summer up for the mission, but confirmation of it makes it more real somehow. Makes it more visceral.
Wade must have hit the elevator button again because the door opens onto their floor and Wade has to practically drag Summer down the hall his knees are so unstable.
By the time the door to the mostly white hotel room closes, Summer feels some sort of resignation. Wade pushes him passed the sitting room/ dinette kitchen into the separate bedroom, and he doesn’t even blink.
His hands are still shaking but he feels himself slightly dissociating. This is one of the reasons Summer was against this in the first place. He shouldn’t have been allowed on this mission. The Red Room hadn’t been done with him yet.
They have a very meticulous process, kidnap children, smash everything about them to bits, and build a killing machine in its place. If the machine stutters. Throw it back in a pit and smash it again, rebuild, rebuild, rebuild until their masterpieces never misses a beat.
Perfect little dancers spinning in row.
Spinning, spinning, spinning.
Chase the kiss of death. Touch the edges of the universe.
Perfect little creatures with beautiful smiles and dark little hearts.
Killing machines in make-up.
Rebuild, repaint, redo.
Summer knows he’s not alright when the lights don’t click on, but he can feel someone standing behind him. He knows he’s not alright when ghost hands reach for him and he flinches away from them. He knows he’s gone when his desperate eyes land on a bed, and all he can feel are men holding him face down into a soiled mattress, screaming and crying but unable to fight back as they force his legs apart, as they hold- hold him down, as they-
Summer turns toward the door. It’s open.
He should go.
He steps toward it, but rough hand grabs his wrist delicately. He stops automatically. Bends to a will not his own. He shutters and falters. A broken little doll, twitching and glitching. Begging to be recalibrated.
“Babyboy,” he hears Wade whisper, and it echoes inside his head like he’s hollow.
All the little hairs on Peter’s body ripple but something is glitched inside of him. His spider sense isn’t reading danger, but the sense of danger circles and circles.
The hand on his wrist moves to his face and Summer knows he’s all wrong -badbadbad- when Wade’s face is hundreds of faces, layered over each other, each playing at different speeds. A loud canopy of their voices ricocheting mayhem in his ears.
“Shh,” Wade whispers right against Summer’s ear and Summer instinctively latches onto the sound, pulls Wade’s voice into the hollow of his chest just like he wasn’t supposed to do. Wade wasn’t supposed to be a safe place.
It’s supposed to be a game of wits. Wade needed to trick Summer into Hydra, Summer needed to not make it too easy.
“I’m sorry. I’m not gonna hurt you anymore,” Wade promised, and Summer shouldn’t believe him but God, he needed to. This time it was Summer’s voice echoing the words inside his head, a chant dedicated to Wade as the bigger man’s hands cupped his face, scratched lighting at his nape, smoothed the soreness on his cheekbone.
It took longer than it should have to realized Summer had closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the world was skewed by tears. Wade’s face was more remorseful than Summer had ever seen.
Not thinking, Summer brought his finger tips to Wade’s jaw, and the mercenary flinched on first contact, but the skin there was thick but soft. Tough like scar tissue, but as delicate as a spider’s web. Summer imagined the sensitivity to light and touch had to be as finite as Summer’s fingers were.
Anxiety crawled up Summer’s back and he turned quick as a whip to the window. Darkdarkdark night screamed outside. An open world of endless danger.
A hand wrapped around Summer’s eyes, another around his stomach, then he was hauled off his feet, a terrified cry whimpering up his throat. God, he was useless. Red Room garbage. Broken. Useless.
And they wanted him back.
They wanted to shatter him again, take away everything he worked for. Take away choice and love. Use him to hurt Steve and Tony and Wade. Make him smash the world one breath at a time. He was a ticking time bomb. He was just missing a piece. One last calibration.
Summer stopped breathing as they stepped back into the living space, Wade depositing him on the couch as he went about closing all the curtains, flicking on all the lights even if the room was already well lit.
He even went back to the front door and stuck one of the fancy chairs under the door handle.
When he turned back to Summer, there was a look of uncomfortable desperation on Wade’s face. Summer took a moment to consider the look. His brows were pinched and his mouth a flat line. His cheeks a weird blotchy red like he was holding back a scream.
Summer didn’t like it.
His instincts insisted he fix it, and a rolodex of options rolled in his minds eye. He only took half a second to consider that all the cards inside where blood red, the text bold and stark white as bone.
“Peter,” Wade said desperately, and Summer’s attention snapped back to the man inexplicably kneeling in front of him. “Please, for the love of god,” Wade took a firm hold of his shoulders and shook him, “Shut. Up.”
Summer felt his mouth snap shut.
Oh.
Oh-no.
“Oh, thank god.” Wade dropped his head to Summer’s knee, his shoulders slumping with relief. Summer was still stiff, but he could feel some sort of terrified calmness settling inside him.
Summer felt wrung out. Tired.
Whatever he’d said. Whatever was going to happen to him. Right now, he didn’t care.
His voice felt miniscule when he spoke, “I want to go to bed.”
Wade looked up at him and this was not the same angry man who’d ripped him out of the car or shoved him into the corner of the elevator. This Wade looked wrecked. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad, Babyboy? Why didn’t you tell me you got this- this-?”
“I told you I’m a fucking mess-“
“No,” Wade interrupts, “I told you not to spout that shit at me, Babyboy. This is something else Baby-“
Summer isn’t in full control of himself when his hand smacks across Wade’s mouth, “You don’t get to call me that!” he growled, “You don’t get to call me anything but what I am to you. A payday!”
Wade looked back sharply, “This isn’t about fucking money.”
“Of course it’s about-“
“It’s about Ellie,” Summer blinks. “They fucking took her, Bab- Peter…” Wade looks down at his hands. Wade’s talked about Ellie a few times. Each time it had been with a sad tone, like he was talking about someone he didn’t have anymore. Summer never thought he was allowed to ask. Besides, it wasn’t like Ellie had been in Deadpool’s file. “I only get her back if I hand you over.”
A one for one trade. Summer tips back into the couch. He’s too tired to deal with the logistics of this.
He smooths his hands back through his messy hair.
“You got a hell of a pimp hand on you,” Wade comments as he brushes a hand on his offended cheek. “I think you might have loosened a tooth.
Summer snorts helplessly and turns back to Wade.
In a the short list of ways this whole thing could have played out, this didn’t turn out as terribly as Summer had predicted.
Summer knew, in a way he didn’t want to accept, that nothing he and Wade built was meant to last. Whatever he felt had always been fruitless. Love was something other people had, not him. He had walked into this mission eyes wide open, all the possibilities lain out.
He had not one else to blame but himself.
But the little bit of relief at finally getting to meet Wade, to see him as soft around the edges as he’d hoped… Summer was just stupid enough to not want to let go of it. Hope had been so hard to find for so long, Steve says he can hold to it now.
Wade clears his throat and looks away, “I know you’re fresh from your mumbling in Russian panic attack or whatever, but I’m gonna need you to change out of those clothes Baby- Peter.” Summer understood his train of thought. “I don’t know if Papa Rogers keeps a tracker on you or something but we can’t take it were we gotta go. You’re gonna have to change in front of me, but I promise I won’t touch you okay?”
A terrible chill runs down Summer’s spine, but he nods stiffly, standing up even though he should have waited for Wade to take a step back or something. It’s like Summer had never been trained in the first place.
Natasha had been in the Red Room, but she didn’t teach like they did. She was strict but she never punished him, never asked for more than he could give.
“I heard Steve asked you to go undercover,” she had asked as they sweated through their shirts after a long sparing session. She kinda taught him everything. She gave him books and taught him music, they spared, they danced, they practiced going out in public under different disguises. Tony taught him science and math stuff, but Natasha’s teaching was closer to what Summer had grown up with, even if her way broadened his mind, not narrowed it.
Summer set down his water bottle, though he let himself fiddle with the cap, “Undercover as a version of myself, yes.”
“Do you think you’re ready for that?” she asked with genuine concern.
Summer looked up to her, “I have to try.”
She nodded, “Wade Wilson is a dangerous man, you’re gonna have to be careful.”
Summer couldn’t help his mirthless smirk, “How dangerous?”
The question rings in his head now as he pulls off his plaid shirt. Wade is looking up to him in surprise and Summer’s spider sense is a soft hum, not finding any more danger than what rests under Summer’s skin. The imminent threat that is the man it is supposed to protect.
Summer doesn’t let himself think about anything else but the shades of blue in Wade’s eyes as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. Plenty of people have seen Summer naked. Summer has killed men twice the size of him when in such a state.
As the shirt hits the hotel carpet, Wade stands and takes a few steps away to grab his duffle bag and sift through it with one eye on Summer as he unbuttons his fly. He makes sure to unite and slid his shoes off before letting his pants slide down his legs. He hears Wade’s heart skip a beat.
Summer
Summer wakes up ziptied to the arm of the couch.
He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes landing on Wade who is perched on the coffee table, his hood back, eyes on Summer, whose senses are quiet.
Even with Summer ‘restrained’ his senses are soft and gentle, telling him he’s safe.
Summer trusts Wade to his core.
“Morning, Sunshine,” Wade says, his hand coming up to swipe hair back behind Summer’s ear.
Something in the younger man melts away.
Summer snaps his ties easily, making Wade jump to his feet in surprise. Summer follows him up, and when Wade swings a fist, Summer catches it easily.
“Peter!” he shouts as he tries to pull his hand away, but Summer doesn’t let go.
“Wade,” Summer says calmly. “We need to talk.”
Not listening, Wade tries to knee Summer in the stomach, but Peter uses the surprise of his strength to grab a fistful of Wade’s sweater and pick him up off his feet and drop him on his back on the coffee table.
“Nononono,” Wade struggles, fear over taking his face the longer it takes to break free of Summer’s hold. “You can’t go- EIllie! I need to save her-”
“Wade!” Summer interjects, “It’s okay. You can still turn me in. I need you to.”
Wade furrows his brows, “What?” he breaths.
“I know last night was bad,” Summer relents finally releasing Wade and stepping away, “But I… I just needed you to know I’m going willingly.”
Wade sits up as Summer sits down. Their eyes on the same level. Summer swallows and looks down at his hands. “I… I trust you Wade. Steve needs me to follow through with the exchange. I need you turn me in as much as you need to do it for Ellie. So, it’s fine. I need you to know I’ll be fine.”
“So, that’s what that little show was?” His voice his rough with accusation, and Summer can’t raise his eyes as he nods.
“Peter…” he sighs. “Just because you’re super doesn’t mean you’ll be okay.”
Summer shrugs the statement away, “We don’t have another choice.”
Silence rings heavily between them until Summer raises his eyes to meet Wade’s, he’s unprepared for the look of guilt in the man’s eyes. He looks away from Summer first, mumbling under his breath, “For Ellie.” And gets up and gathers his bag by the door, “Come on, we got a long train ride to deal with today.”
Summer follows him out the door.
Wade
Wade is exhausted when they finally step into the hotel room.
Peter doesn’t linger as Wade puts up the do not disturb sign then locks the door, shoving a chair under the handle, watching the younger man move to the drapes to slide them shut before he makes his way to the bedroom to do the same.
It’s a strange feeling, almost domestic.
Like it’s already a routine.
Wade throws his bag to the floor and follows into the bedroom.
Peter is standing in the dark at the foot of the bed, his arms wrapped over his chest, his back to Wade. For just an instant the other man looks small in the shadow Wade throws over him.
A shiver runs down Peter’s spine and he looks over his shoulder to where Wade is standing.
Something steps into the room with them. Some kind of tension that has been following them all day. It was thinly veiled in Peter’s casual touches, it was lodged in Wade’s throat when Peter had fallen asleep against him on the train, and it only seemed to grow each time their eyes met.
Peter was super. Strong and fast and dangerous. Trained and honed.
But he was also Wade’s Babyboy. He was thoughtful and lonely and accepting. Gentle and caring.
Standing there in the clothes Wade had bought for him, Wade could see the image of them blurring in his head in a way he hadn’t been able to do all day. It was hard to imagine sweet, shy Peter as the same man who had held Wade down like it was nothing, who could lift Wade off his feet and drop him where he pleased. He’d figured the Avengers would have trained him to defend himself, he didn’t think he would be able to out maneuver Wade in a fight.
But this man, his soft brown eyes edged with calm acknowledgement was both of the things. Calm and dangerous. Sweet and broken.
Wade had been flirting around the same feeling for months. Had been trying to force back the feeling that made talking to Peter so second nature. He didn’t want to think about how much he cared about him because every time he did, the guilt and longing and fear where too much to bear. He didn’t want to think he was giving up something he loved. He couldn’t love Peter.
Especially when he can’t save Peter. He has to hand him over for his daughter.
Ellie is too important for anything else to matter.
And it doesn’t matter if Wade had spent all those days talking to Peter, not just because he had to but because Peter would listen and talk back, would laugh and joke and flirt. Because sometimes just the sound of Peter’s voice, thick with sleepiness or breathless from cuming made Wade’s heart feel ten sizes too big for his body.
He didn’t want to think about how many times he’d fucked himself into his hand daydreaming it was Peter’s body he was finishing in.
But in his mind Peter always had had an air of innocence, Wade couldn’t see that in Peter’s eyes now.
Turning under Wade’s gaze, Peter faced him. Pushed his shoulders back and met Wade’s eyes like a test.
Wade couldn’t help but think Peter was the most beautiful thing he’d ever lain eyes on. Like if an ancient masterpiece had come to life.
Wade felt himself move and he didn’t even know the intent until he saw Peter snarl.
His hands fisted in the front of Peter’s shirt, and a fist smashed into his cheek and then Wade’s feet were off the ground, Peter’s shirt tearing as he flipped Wade back an into the accent table by the door. Wade smashed into it with enough force to shatter the thing.
They are not getting their security deposit back.
Wade healed even as he stood and when he swung at Peter, the other man dodged easily, swinging out a blow that narrowly goes passed Wade’s nose. But Wade kicks out a foot, landing square on Peter’s chest, sending him back into the bedside table.
Peter launches himself back up without a second thought but the spark in his eyes is easy to see even in the dark. He kicks the shattered leg of the table toward Wade, the bigger man dodging it and throwing himself at Peter again, who jumps into Wade changing their trajectory from to the floor, to on top of the bed.
Peter lands on top and is quick to pin Wade’s hands over his head. Wade bucks up to try and roll them but Peter hooks his feet under Wade’s hips and pushes out his own knees to lower his center of gravity, inadvertently pressing their semi-hard dicks into perfect alignment against the V’s of their hips.
Wade chokes on surprise, and Peter punctuates it by leaning down to take a deep bite into the meat of Wade’s shoulder.
Holy shit, it hurts.
He breaks his own thumb as he forces a hand free and digs his fingers between Peter’s ribs, making Peter gasp and the bigger man pushes Peter back enough to get a foot under himself and flip them.
Peter lands with a huff, his wild hair falling in his eyes, in a halo around his head on the pillow. His legs hooking over Wade’s hips.
Wade is struck again with the sight of Peter as he takes hold of the bucking stallion that is the creature in his hands. One of them takes hold of Peter’s hand before it can lash out at him, the other squeezes bruises into the meat of Peter’s thigh, and the sound Peter makes tastes like euphoria in the back of Wade’s throat. A raw, real rendition of the sound Peter makes before he comes.
Wade stills immediately and latched his eyes on Peter whose head is thrown back to reveal a long line of pale throat, his eyes clammed shut. His mouth is wide with pleasure, a line of red, red blood trailing from the already bloody lips Wade has never gotten to taste. His hands tighten without thought.
For one terrifying second, Wade feels weightless. Like he’s being pushed away. Like he’s falling from such a height that even god couldn’t cushion his fall.
But then Peter’s eyes open and the hot, black desire in Peter’s eyes crushes Wade in the weight of the universe.
Peter’s free hand shoots up and Wade can’t even think to fight as he pulls Wade into one of the most filthiest kisses Wade had ever had. And that is saying something.
It isn’t uncoordinated, just all consuming. Lung suckingly desperate noises squeeze passed the knife and tooth cut of their mouths. Blood and spit and fire, burning away anything else. Peter’s hands on Wade’s destroyed skin and his hands on what feels like miles of Peter’s sooth, soft body.
Wade doesn’t even have time to catch his breath as their punishing rutting has Wade coming hard in his pants. They just keep kissing and biting and rutting. Wade’s dick doesn’t even put up any protest, staying fat and hot as Peter gasps and jerks as he cums, and Wade digs his teeth viciously into Peter’s bottom lip as the sounds from his mouth fuck themselves into Wade’s ears like Wade’s been hearing over the phone for months.
Peter doesn’t stop his desperate attention on Wade even after he comes. His dick is just as hard and throbbing as Wade’s.
They can’t keep going like this. They can’t.
This isn’t enough.
Wade gathers all his strength and rips himself back. Peter gasps, his eyes flying open as Wade crawls back as fast as he can.
He turns away before he can convince himself not to. His last look of Peter’s hurt and bloody face painfully burning itself into his brain.
The room is suddenly too quiet. They sit in it. Catching their breaths because they’re both panting
It’s a long moment before Wade hears Peter sit up, hears him take off his destroyed shirt.
The bed squeaks lightly as Peter crawls over to Wade, and though he doesn’t look back, Peter wraps his arms around Wade’s shoulders, pressing his face into Wade’s neck. His balled up shirt is in his hand still, and Wade takes it from the other man and wipes the drying blood and spit from his face. He can see tell that Peter had done the same thing by the pattern of some of the blood.
“Wade,” Peter whispers into his skin, and it feels like the shape of Peter’s voice sinks into Wade’s bones. How is he supposed to survive this?
“I’m sorry,” his voice is painfully hoarse.
“You have nothing to be sorry for Wade. I...I’m broken, Wade. I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way I feel about you. I don’t.” He nuzzles into the back of Wade’s neck, cuddling into Wade from behind, whispering, “I don’t care if you pretended to love me…” A gentle trail of kisses patter across the span of Wade’s shoulders. “I still feel… I’m…”
He turns just enough to look over his shoulder at Peter and the softness of those brown eyes stop his heart. This is exactly what Wade was afraid of, and his mouth betrays the truth of it, “I don’t have to pretend Babyboy, that’s the problem.”
Peter shifts closer with absolute trust, closing his eyes as he leans forward to press a gentle kiss against Wade’s lips.
Oh, dear god.
There’s that innocence Wade was wondering about.
It’s right here.
In the tilting of Peter’s head as Wade cups a hand against his cheek. In the soft swallow as Wade pulls away from his mouth to press lovely little kisses across Peter’s cheeks.
He loves this man.
Loves and loves and loves.
Urgency has given way to something kinder. Every touch lingers. Every slide of their mouths is consumingly passionate, all soft tongues and swollen lips. Every breath feels shared.
Peter pulls Wade away from the edge of the bed, laying on his back as Wade crawls over him.
“Wade,” Peter whispers again and it almost sounds like a payer.
Peter lays under Wade like an offering. Bare chested with a rosy hue painting down from soft cheeks, legs wide for Wade. His jeans splotched with come, the hard knob of his dick fighting against the confine of a zipper.
Wade leans down and laths reverently at the supple skin on Peter’s chest, before he slides further down Peter’s body. His flat stomach, the peaks of his hips.
He unbuttons Peter’s pants and guides them off, pressing kisses all the way down Peter’s leg only to work himself back up the other, letting his knuckles drag against inner thighs as Peter arches off the bed with a moan, one of his hands untangling from the blankets to cup the back of Wade’s head and guide him back up to Peter’s soft mouth.
Peter is so smooth. Skin like butter.
And when the younger man rolls them so he can kiss under Wade’s jaw push his hands into the waistband of Wade’s pants to pull them off, Wade’s hands grope up the man’s bare back until Peter crawls down Wade’s body to lap at Wade’s throbbing dick and God, it’s like the world changes color.
Just shades of red. The warm glow of the sun through the thick curtains. The streaks of blood still wiping down his little thing’s shoulder. Peter’s cheeks as they hollow around Wade’s fat dick.
No one has the right to make Wade as breathless as he is.
The look in Peter’s eyes. Pure devotion.
Tears well in Wade’s eyes, “Holy shit, Babyboy. I’m gonna-“
Peter pulls off making Wade shiver violently with need but then Peter is kissing him and Wade feels the tight ring of muscle give around the tip of his dick, and he moans like he’s never had sex in his life as Peter sheaths the whole of Wade’s dick with this look of pure-hearted intent and pleasure.
As Peter leans back with a solid hold of Wade’s hand, glistening tears roll from Petey-pie’s eyes.
So pretty.
“Wade.”
“Peter.”
So slow. So hot. Burning alive. They move together like they were meant for it. Rolling hips and skin. So much skin. The torn ravages of Wade’s and the perfect, lily-soft spread of Peter’s, but Peter kisses him, kisses his scars and wounds, every hill and valley of it like he’s as enraptured by its beauty as Wade is with his. And Wade is melting under the boiling love he feels for the kid because of it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of him now.
Especially when it is Wade’s hands drawing out those noises that Peter has been hinting at over the phone. Now that Wade gets to see the faces he makes that before he’d had to imagine.
And when Peter finally collapses in Wade’s arms, tear streaked, cum stained, and sweaty like he’d been trapped in a small sun, the both of them having orgasmed more than mere mortals could ever aspire, Wade knows that he hasn’t ever been this in love in all his life.
Summer
Summer wakes up just before an alarm goes off.
Wade moans unhappily, but smiles faintly before pressing a kiss to Summer’s temple before rolling to the edge of the bed and picking up his discarded pants with his toes. He fishes the phone out of the pocket with his hand, then silences the device.
When he looks back at Summer there is great conflict in his eyes.
“Wade,” Summer sighs, “You don’t have to look so torn. We both need me to be handed over.”
He makes a face before turning away, “It’s Hydra, Babyboy.”
Summer crawls over to Wade and presses a soft kiss to his shoulder, “Nothing worse than I’ve faced before. Plus, me going means you get Ellie back.” He wraps an arm around Wade’s waist, holding the bigger man close as he nuzzles into his neck. “You turn me in and get her as far away as you can, okay?”
He nods softly.
They shower and dress and Summer doesn’t bother being shy anymore. He holds Wade’s hand and watches the world spin by with as close to a carefree smile as he’s ever had in his life.
Wade steals a car and they drive into a sketchy part of the city, and to a warehouse that makes the little hairs on Summer’s back stand on end. It’s so Hydra it hurts.
The fear catches up to Summer again, but he swallows it down as Wade hauls him out of the car by is arm. “Wade,” Summer has to catch Wade’s hand to stabilize his heart rate, even if he doesn’t raise his eyes up to Wade’s. He doesn’t think he could stand the look in them, whatever it might be.
They enter the building together and Peter loses time. The blackout doesn’t fade until he finds himself facing a group of very Hydra looking men and a dark-haired teen with Wade’s blue eyes. Even if her face is tear stained and filthy, she is beautiful. Soft features and careful edges.
The Winter Soldier’s voice rings in Summer’s ear, “Hydra, if it is who wants you, won’t be kind when they get their hands on you. You won’t see the Red Room again for a long time. Torture. They’ll make you forget you were ever free from them.”
“You’ll come for me before then, right?” Summer had asked.
Winter had cupped his neck and brought their foreheads together, “We’ll come for you, Pipsqueak.”
The memory keeps Summer’s legs under him as Wade pushes him toward the group, as Ellie runs passed to jump into her father’s arms, as the first guard slaps the Power Dampeners around Summer’s wrists.
Summer doesn’t look back for Wade as a man with a red, palm sized book that Summer fears with every fiber of his being steps in front of him and starts reciting words to shut off Summer’s brain. The last thing Summer remembers before the world goes dark is the soft sound of Ellie’s sobbing growing further and further away.
Painpainpain wakes Summer up.
His body convulses without control as The Chair electrocutes him, a scream catching his throat before he can voice it. They don’t like when he screams. Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Don’t- don’t- don’t…. He screams, but the sound is drown out by an alarm blaring to life.
The Chair turns off and Summer is limp in it’s clutches as the red lights flash overhead.
“Asset,” someone orders as they lift the headpiece from Summer’s face, “Asset-“
With every fiber of his strength, he kicks the handler away, sending the man flying across the room to smash into the far wall with a sickening Crack that satisfies Summer in the darkest, vindictive way possible. But the move leaves him too weak to even sit up, small trembles of pain shaking through him until someone enters the room.
“Summer!” Steve rushes to his side to break the ties around Summer’s wrists. Summer falls against Steve’s strong shoulder and releases a grateful sob. “I found him,” Steve says into the coms in his ear. “Northwest corner, fifth floor down. We need his suit.”
“On my way,” Summer hears Winter’s terse voice say.
The door bursts open a moment later, but it isn’t Winter who opens it but a red and black suited figure that has Summer’s heart beating a funny beat in his chest.
“Wade-” Steve starts, but Summer reaches for him and then Wade is there wiping Summer’s tears away.
“You didn’t think I was just going to leave you, did you?” Wade whispered fiercely.
Summer wraps his fingers in Wade’s and relaxes against Steve until Winter enters the room and practically dog piles them all as he wraps Summer in his arms.
He holds a spider shaped emblem to Summer’s chest and nanobots spiral out to cover Summer’s whole body.
The weight of the suit releases the weakness from Summer’s muscles, his brain shutting down the pain in his body, so he has the strength to stand on his own.
The three other men stand too.
“You ready to kick some ass?” Wade asks with a smile in is voice.
“Born ready,” Summer smiles back.