Chapter 8
Peter's alarm clock screeches him into a dreary awakening. He almost never has his alarm clock turned on. Peter feels pain course through every part of body, which still screams for sleep and food. He's pretty still ire his body is eating itself, but he gets up with a small groan and does his morning rhoutine. Wade appears to still be asleep, but Peter forgot to wet his cloths last night, so their really dry. Wade's face looks dried out again so Peter takes the cloth and makes sure Wade's head isn't dry. Wade wakes up just as he's stuffing his duffel bag rather slowly. Eyes crossing involuntarily every few seconds. He'd gotten three hours of sleep again, which did little to help his current physical condition.
"Tell me your not going to work, Peter Sweetey," Wade says as he watches Peter. "Petey don't go to fucking work. Call in sick. Tell them you were mugged. I can't believe I'm stuffing this but call the fucking police."
"I can't," Peter grumbles, eyes half closed as pulls the duffel bag over his shoulder, "I have to work. I'll be back soon."
"Baby Boy do not go to fucking-" Wade us cut off by the door slamming shut. "Huh, rude."
~
Peter nearly crashes his bike at least three times before ehe gets to Stark Tower, where he stumbles and fumbles to lock his bike and drag himself up to the elevator. JARVIS is oddly silent. Peter knows last night's disaster has made him damn near starving. He also knows it's why he's so tired.
Peter tries to look awake as he immediately migrates to the coffee machine and makes himself three cups. He doesn't speak to anyone until he's at least sure he won't pass out within the next five minutes, and then he slides into his desk. He avoids actual work in favor of making Wade a box. He spends all of fifteen minutes on it before it's done, so he goes to do normal work.
Peter doesn't realize time has passed until JARVIS tells him it's lunch time. Peter stumbles to clean up his stuff, realising he'd fallen asleep. He gets about five seconds in before he falls. Spider sense blasting him. But he can't stop his body from falling because it can't stand anymore. Peter registers some for of panicked shout as he pulls himself up. His eyes cross involuntarily as the caffeine leaves him. He can't keep his eyes open for much longer. He grabs his box, but his eyes begin to roll back so he stands there and reorientates himself.
His spidey sense, thoroughly as sleep deprived as him, zing with a force that nearly make shis hair stand out. He reflexively snatches the wrist landing on his shoulder and whips around, causing the person attached to it to smash against a nearby desk. There's some shouting as Peter blinks a few times and steps back from Tony, who looms just ad dazed.
"Sorry- reflex- I'm going home for lunch again," Peter grumbles. Tony blinks.
"Yeah, kid, you'really staying home." Tony manages, "I don't know if you caught the message when I sent you home early yesterday, but you need sleep. And food. So we're gonna feed you and no take eyou home, okay?"
"Okay," Peter agrees, though he can't really tell what he's agreeing to. He's ushered into a seat and food is placed in front of him. He starts eating out of instinct, and by the time he's done he's infinitely more hungry. But he has to get home, and he's eaten more then he should have. If he eats more, he'll look suspicious. So instead he tells Tony he wants to go home and Tony makes some guy named Happy bring him home.
Peter arrives home and nearly floors himself. He fumbles to close the door and drops the box in from of Wade. Wade looks at it strangely as Peter fights to keep his eyes open.
"Here's the new.. the new.. box. I'm gonna put you in. It's got cool voice control stuff. Look, here, I gotta.." Peter tries to be gentle but he knows he's not as he puts Wade into the box and makes sure he's comfy before stumbling and passing out on the couch.
~
Peter wakes up and sees a small stack of sandwiches on the coffee table. He takes one, eats it, and sleeps again.
Peter wakes up and sees lots of sandwich and a glass of water. He consumes some and falls asleep again.
Peter wakes up, and is now somewhat fully rested. He's slept on and off for about a day. Wade is moving around in the weird box Peter made for him, and there's another sandwich on his coffee table. Peter eats it, feeling full and we'll rested for the first time in days. He still feels like shit, but better shit. His side hurts, he knows his bruises and cuts are probably gone, now. But he still has a recovering bullet hole.
"Hey, Peter Wheaty, looks like your all up and at'ems you dumb fuck!" Wade calls cheerily as he tells the box to move forward. Peter frowns at the last part.
"That's rude," Peter says, finally. A little groggy from being awake for more than five seconds.
"Sorry, prefer dumb ass? Chuckle fuck? How about a What the hell were you think you malnourished overly kind dumb shit why would you go to work in that condition you literally damn near killed yourself." Wade's smiling rather brightly, but his tone conveys something else.
"I-" Peter begins but Wade cuts him off.
"Your supposed to be smart, you royal chuckle fuck, but you aren't acting it. Seriously, what the fuck? Eat a god damn taco once in a while. You were malnourished you chuckle fuck. You were literally going to pass out walking out the fucking door but you still decided to go to work?"
"Hey-" Peter tries again.
"And then, you come home with this shiny new box for me, which is really comfortable, and fucking pass out five seconds later? You looked dead, you royal dumbass. Do you even eat or sleep? What the actual fuck?" Wade plows on.
"Shut up!" Peter snaps, which causes Wade to glare at Peter but oblige, "I get it, I fucked up. I'll do better."
"How? You literally had nothing but bread and cheese in your fucking kitchen. There is nothing in your kitchen. You've literally eaten all of it."
"You used all my fucking sandwich shit?" Peter yells, now angry. He doesn't have enough money to buy more.
"Boo fucking hoo, take better care of yourself and supplies won't deplete that fast!" Wade snaps back. Peter let's out a frustrated groan.
"I have literally no fucking money!" Peter yells, "all the money I've made is now in my fucking rent. You have actually doomed me. I have nothing to buy the fucking food with!"
"Then take my money!" Wade yells back.
"I'm not taking your money!"
"Yes, you fucking are. There's no way I'm gonna let you and your delicious as die after you took care of me!" Wade yells back.
"I wouldn't have been in the risk if you hadn't depleted my sandwich supplies!"
"Did you not hear me? Peter, you were dying!" Wade screeches, "you were fucking dying! If I hadn't fed you, you'd be dead!"
Peter blinks, taking in Wade a little better noe. He's still skinless, but he looks upset. Peter realizes the position he's put Wade in, and he sighs. Surrender in his features.
"I'm sorry." He murmurs, looking down. Wade sighs and huffs.
"You're taking my money." He grits out. Peter nods in resignation. Wade makes his box turn on princess bride.