A Dinner With Framily (SpideyPool)

A Dinner With Framily- Chapter Four

When Peter woke up, his muscles still ached. He felt like he was flattened by a train and turned into a pancake.

He looked over at the alarm o'clock, groaning when it read two thirty in the afternoon.

Nearly a week after he attacked The Beetle.

He rolled out of bed, minding his sore muscles, and trudged to the bathroom.

Peter took off his clothes, getting in the shower and turning on the water to nearly scalding hot.

When he was done, he wrapped his bottom half in a blue towel, looking in the bathroom mirror at his side.

Wade was right, Jesus.

He could see the outline of the entire bruise that was on his side, yellowish in contrast with his skin. It stretched from his pectoral muscle all the way down through his towel, like a scar.

His ribs felt fine, that was a good sign though.

Peter took another towel out of the closet, running it through his hair before he threw it in the hamper.

He dug out his toothbrush and toothpaste, turning the faucet on and brushing his teeth.

Peter ran his teeth through mouthwash next, swishing it around before spitting it out in the sink.

He screwed the lid back on, setting it in the closet before opening the bathroom door.

Where he was greeted with the barrel of a gun.

Wade looked heartbroken, like his heart was literally ripped out of his chest. Tear stains lined his red face, being replaced with fresh tears every second.

Peter's eyes traveled from the gun to Wade, eyes wide with fear.

"What are you doing, Wade?"

The gun shook, like Wade's hands couldn't hold onto it properly. But Peter knew better, Wade could shoot a gun without a seconds notice.

Wade sniffled, using his other hand to run down his face, removing the tears that spilled over his cheeks.

Wade turned to look at Peter, his eyes betraying the dead expression on his face. Sadness, grief, regret.

He managed to turn the safety back on the gun through the shaking of his hand, more tears replacing the ones that he removed. "Peter," he sounded wounded, his voice cracking when he said Peter's name.

The gun slipped out of his hand, falling at both of their feet.

Wade started sobbing, looking at the ceiling and squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm so s-sorry."

Peter hid the breath of relief he made, stepping over the gun and wrapping him in his arms. "It's okay, it's okay," he cooed, leading both of the towards the couch.

Wade's sobbing grew louder as he sat down, laying his head on Peter's lap. "Th-they wanted me to k-kill you. The-they wanted me to kill S-Spiderman."

Peter ran one hand through Wade's hair, the other wrapped around his waist. "It's okay," he said again, leaning his head in the crook of Wade's neck.

Wade shook his head slightly, his tears seeping through the towel onto Peter's damp thigh.

"No i-it's not. Th-they paid me to kill y-you, Pete. You should hate me."

Peter chuckled into Wade's neck, lifting his head up. "I can't hate you, Wade. Your everything to me, and nothing in the world can change that," he said fondly, leaning down once more to kiss Wade's tear streaked face.

They both fell asleep like that on the couch.

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I'm so sorry if I destroyed your feels, guys. :(