ꨄ tangled hearts • spideypool ꨄ

4 • all the stars

Peter felt a lump form in his throat, and he nodded, grateful for Wade's understanding. "Thanks, Wade. I... I appreciate that."

Wade grinned, his usual energy starting to return. "Anytime, Webhead. And hey, whenever you're ready to talk more about this 'different' stuff, I'm here. But just so you know, different or not, you're still stuck with me."

Peter smiled, feeling a bit lighter. "Yeah, I figured."

Wade stretched out lazily, his grin turning sly. "Now, since we're talking about figuring things out, can we also talk about how your Spidey-suit really does wonders for your—"

"Wade, no!" Peter groaned, cutting him off, but he couldn't help the laugh that followed.

The conversation shifted back to more lighthearted banter, the heavy moment fading into the background. But the unspoken truth remained, lingering in the quiet spaces between them. Peter wasn't ready to lay it all out just yet, but he knew that when he was, Wade would be there—no questions, no judgment. Just a friend...yeah, a friend willing to listen.

—-

Peter and Wade spent the next few hours lounging around the apartment, joking and laughing like nothing heavy had been said that morning. It was easy, familiar—like slipping into a well-worn routine. Wade cracked endless jokes about Peter's wardrobe, his apartment decor, and even the leftover Chinese food in his fridge, which Wade insisted was a "crime against cuisine."

But as the afternoon wore on and the conversation drifted into quieter moments, Peter found himself circling back to the thoughts that had been nagging him earlier. He wasn't sure how to bring it up, but he knew that if he didn't, it would just keep eating at him.

They were sitting on the couch again, both staring at the TV but not really watching it. Some old sitcom rerun was playing, the canned laughter echoing in the background. Peter shifted slightly, glancing over at Wade, who was slumped comfortably on the cushions beside him.

"Hey, Wade," Peter began, keeping his tone casual. "Can I ask you something?"

Wade turned his head, raising an eyebrow. "Shoot, Spidey. I'm an open book."

Peter hesitated for a moment, then pushed forward. "You ever think about... y'know, how we still hide who we are? Even with each other?"

Wade's expression shifted to something more thoughtful, his usual smirk fading a bit. "Yeah, I've thought about it. I mean, we've been through some serious stuff together, and yet..." He gestured between them. "We've still got the masks on. Well, mostly."

Peter nodded, feeling a bit more at ease now that the topic was out in the open. "It's kinda funny when you think about it. We've fought side by side, saved lives together... but we've only ever seen each other's mouths."

Wade chuckled softly. "Yeah, just the mouths. The most mysterious part of a person's face, obviously."

Peter laughed, but there was a hint of tension in it. "I guess... it's just easier that way. Keeping the masks on. It makes everything feel... safer. Like we can still keep a part of ourselves separate."

Wade nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I get that. It's like, the moment you take off the mask, you're not just Deadpool or Spider-Man anymore. You're just... you. And that's a lot scarier."

Peter looked down at his hands, the fabric of his suit still clinging to his skin. He understood exactly what Wade meant. The mask had always been a shield for him, a way to separate Peter Parker from Spider-Man, to protect the people he cared about—and maybe, in some ways, to protect himself.

"Yeah," Peter said quietly. "It's easier to be Spider-Man than to be...well, umm, the real guy I am under this mask"

Wade glanced over at him, his tone softer than usual. "Same here, Spidey. Deadpool's a lot easier to deal with than... well, Wade, the real Wade. At least, you know my name, while I still call you Spidey..."