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salmon_pinkTitle: Sincerest Form Of Flattery
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Wade/Peter
Rating: PG
Words: 492
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comicdrabbles, prompt "team-up".
It’s a cheap knock-off, the kind that can be found in any store in New York around Halloween. The red is too dull, the blue too light, and the fabric is overly shiny.
“Is the blue slimming? I feel like the blue is slimming.”
Peter just pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He wishes he could say this is the first time he’s been jumping across rooftops, only to have Wade casually land next to him out of nowhere.
It is the first time Wade’s landed next to him wearing a Spider-Man costume.
It’s too small on him, stretched out over the broadness of his shoulders, sliver of sore-looking flesh visible between the end of the sleeves and the gloves. Wade’s twisting around to admire himself, costume riding up at the waist, exposing the small of his back.
Peter sees blisters and angry red marks, before he makes himself snap his gaze back up to Wade’s face. Or Spider-Man’s face, and the mask doesn’t quite have the proportions right, the eyes a little too big and far apart.
“I look hot, right?” Wade asks, striking a pose, ass stuck out and back arched. “It’s okay to admit it, I’d tap me.”
“Go away, Deadpool,” Peter snaps.
Wade freezes, and it’s amazing how expressive the mask looks on him. Or maybe Peter’s just gotten good at reading him through a layer of fabric and white-out lenses.
He actually looks hurt, which is completely impossible, because Wade’s a homicidal maniac and doesn’t care what Peter thinks of the way he looks.
Except he’s Deadpool, so of course he cares about something so ridiculous.
“But I thought you’d be all in for a team-up,” Wade says, sounding distressingly petulant.
“You’re the bad guy,” Peter reminds him helpfully. “We don’t fight crime together.”
“Screw fighting crime,” Wade scoffs, and Peter’s spider-senses aren’t tingling, but Wade’s definitely closer than he was before. “I was thinking more along the lines of a little Spidey-on-Spidey action.”
Peter squints at him through his own mask. “You mean you want to fight?” he asks slowly, because his spider-sense still isn’t picking up anything dangerous from Wade.
“Oh, you are just precious,” Wade squeals, and he’s very much in Peter’s space now. Inch of air between their masks, and his hands are on Peter’s hips, hot through the spandex. Voice pitching lower, rougher, as he murmurs, “That’s not the kind of ‘action’ I had in mind.”
Peter swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry. Wade’s thumbs dip under the waistband of his tights, rubbing over the jut of his hipbones before sliding lower. Peter’s pretty sure he hears himself whimper.
“And people say I’m narcissistic,” Wade says, before pressing their mouths together, and kissing somebody through two masks shouldn’t set Peter’s blood on fire the way that it does.
He’s kissing an insane person who’s wearing his costume, and Peter doesn’t miss the irony as he gives in to losing his mind.
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Wade/Peter
Rating: PG
Words: 492
Notes: For
comicdrabbles, prompt "team-up".It’s a cheap knock-off, the kind that can be found in any store in New York around Halloween. The red is too dull, the blue too light, and the fabric is overly shiny.
“Is the blue slimming? I feel like the blue is slimming.”
Peter just pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He wishes he could say this is the first time he’s been jumping across rooftops, only to have Wade casually land next to him out of nowhere.
It is the first time Wade’s landed next to him wearing a Spider-Man costume.
It’s too small on him, stretched out over the broadness of his shoulders, sliver of sore-looking flesh visible between the end of the sleeves and the gloves. Wade’s twisting around to admire himself, costume riding up at the waist, exposing the small of his back.
Peter sees blisters and angry red marks, before he makes himself snap his gaze back up to Wade’s face. Or Spider-Man’s face, and the mask doesn’t quite have the proportions right, the eyes a little too big and far apart.
“I look hot, right?” Wade asks, striking a pose, ass stuck out and back arched. “It’s okay to admit it, I’d tap me.”
“Go away, Deadpool,” Peter snaps.
Wade freezes, and it’s amazing how expressive the mask looks on him. Or maybe Peter’s just gotten good at reading him through a layer of fabric and white-out lenses.
He actually looks hurt, which is completely impossible, because Wade’s a homicidal maniac and doesn’t care what Peter thinks of the way he looks.
Except he’s Deadpool, so of course he cares about something so ridiculous.
“But I thought you’d be all in for a team-up,” Wade says, sounding distressingly petulant.
“You’re the bad guy,” Peter reminds him helpfully. “We don’t fight crime together.”
“Screw fighting crime,” Wade scoffs, and Peter’s spider-senses aren’t tingling, but Wade’s definitely closer than he was before. “I was thinking more along the lines of a little Spidey-on-Spidey action.”
Peter squints at him through his own mask. “You mean you want to fight?” he asks slowly, because his spider-sense still isn’t picking up anything dangerous from Wade.
“Oh, you are just precious,” Wade squeals, and he’s very much in Peter’s space now. Inch of air between their masks, and his hands are on Peter’s hips, hot through the spandex. Voice pitching lower, rougher, as he murmurs, “That’s not the kind of ‘action’ I had in mind.”
Peter swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry. Wade’s thumbs dip under the waistband of his tights, rubbing over the jut of his hipbones before sliding lower. Peter’s pretty sure he hears himself whimper.
“And people say I’m narcissistic,” Wade says, before pressing their mouths together, and kissing somebody through two masks shouldn’t set Peter’s blood on fire the way that it does.
He’s kissing an insane person who’s wearing his costume, and Peter doesn’t miss the irony as he gives in to losing his mind.
