To say he had a few questions was putting it lightly. Peter was holding back entirely. And he had a right to do so . . . but he was hurt by that. Then again, whatever happened wasn't something casual and Peter's refusal to go to a hospital had something to do with something other than money. That means he didn't quite understand Peter as well as he'd thought he did, not that he was going out of his way to map the guy out.

He took his time walking down the stairs of Peter's building. He had about two minutes before his ride would be here, enough time to drag his feet and figure out where the trash was.

The paper bag crinkled in his hand as he flexed his fingers and he smiled. Peter looked like he was on the brink of death but ever the whore for a good burger. As upset as he was, he couldn't help the swelling adoration that warmed his chest. He loved that for Peter, at least he knew that if the guy ever refused Five Guys the situation was dire. Not that this wasn't dire, but Peter was right. He'd be alright in the long run.

It had begun to rain again by the time he made it outside and the streets smelled like exhaust and garbage. He looked up and down the street to double-check that his ride wasn't there before he rounded the corner of the building to toss the greasy bag away, passing someone who was stoned out of their gourd in the process.

He stepped on something on the walk back to the main street and looked down. It had been soft enough to be concerning but he was relieved to see it was just a thick and soggy newspaper. He paused, looking down at the running ink and the intimidating masked hero on the front page.

"Photos by Peter Parker" sat right hand underneath the photo. A smaller action shot took up space in another corner of the article and the red and blue costume drew his attention. His mind drifted to the wadded-up fabric that had been shoved out of the way in Peter's bathroom. He wasn't stupid, with Peter's connection to Spider-Man, he knew the guy was involved in some way, shape, or form.

This newspaper was from the week prior, complaining about the risks of vigilantism and disrespect towards their great nation. There was nothing about Spider-Man's last greatest scuffle, but growing dread told him that if he were to find footage of the fight, he'd see something very similar to Peter's situation upstairs.

His phone buzzed, announcing his Uber arrival and he jogged toward the street to wave at the red sedan waiting. "Twenty-dollar cash tip if you shut up," he said as he slid into the backseat. The driver's mouth was already open before he had even sat down but the woman snapped her mouth shut and sent him an OK with her hand. "Would have done it for free my guy. But you offered. I hate people."

"For your troubles then," he muttered and dug out his wallet to give her the tip upfront before he pulled out his phone and began to search for Spidey's last big shot fight.

* * *

He was standing at the transition of Walmart where the false wood floor of Walmart's homey goods transitioned the harsh brown tile of the grocery section when he wished he'd checked that Peter had his phone within reach before he'd left. He'd filled his basket with everything that he thought he needed and anything Peter should have. Even if Peter wasn't Spider-Man, although he was quite confident he was, which was an unsettling prospect to think his Peter could be such a prick, the man was clearly accident-prone in the best scenario.

He also hadn't dug through Peter's kitchen at all which he should have done. But who was he kidding? If Peter had anything stocked away in his cupboards it was probably beef ramen packs. And there was nothing wrong with that, Wade also always had a box of beef ramen in his home at all times now, but he didn't need to worry about buying Peter groceries. He could eat his way though anything that was doubled up easily. And if he was a hero, that would make a lot of sense. Sure, Wade chalked the appetite up to Peter's healing factor and mutant abilities, but if he was running around like an acrobatic lunatic every night, no wonder he inhaled anything edible within his vicinity.

He'd never taken the proud, fan-favorite hero to be someone like Peter though. Someone who struggled. He imagined a lawyer like Daredevil, a rich kid, or something of that sort. Not someone who could understand the lives of the petty criminals he liked to take care of. He didn't imagine a young and struggling person.

He stopped as a thought struck him.

Spider-Man was a starving artist.

Who took pictures of himself and stirred his own drama by providing the media.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "What a clever little shit." He wouldn't be entirely surprised if Peter manipulated his boss to ensure he'd continue buying. That's exactly what that big license deal wasn't it? It was Peter pulling the strings of the obsessed man's mind, wasn't it? Fucking rad.

He pondered this revelation as he wandered to the frozen foods and picked up a few pizzas and some bread dough that Peter could bake as he pleased. He eventually got distracted and pulled down to the snacks and soon enough he was forcing himself to hurry back to the checkout because it had been half an hour and that was the time limit he'd given his shopping trip. he ordered his ride back and was lucky there wasn't a line this time of day, allowing him to zoom through his checkout and march out with a fabric Walmart-themed bag he regretted grabbing. he should have grabbed the tan one with daisies on it but hadn't been sure Peter would want it hanging around his home. Oh well.

He was kind of excited to go back to Peter, at least until he remembered that if Peter was indeed Spier-Man, it meant that his favorite person was also capable of turning into the personality that openly hated Deadpool. This conversation that he asked Peter to plan for could turn very very sour if he didn't play his cards right.