He wasn't sure how he felt about Wade discovering who and what he was. Nor could he piece together what he had been thinking when he decided to talk to him about it. He'd never talked about what he'd learned about his father with anyone. He'd realized that he needed to choose his words carefully because he wanted to tell someone. He wanted someone to know his story and Wade wasn't taking no for an answer. 

"Does that feel better?" Wade asked as he helped him out of the tub. He'd been kind enough to bring Peter his discarded pajama pants to wear. Every time he took a step it felt like he was getting a red-hot 4x4 metal beam pressed into his hip. He could feel the dry skin stretching and tearing where it was fragile. 

"No," he hissed, sucking in a breath when he accidentally took a step forward, forgetting what he was doing, and sent a beautiful shock wave of pain through his body. Wade had been pissing him off with his questions earlier, but the lack of cooperation of his body was making him genuinely angry. If his legs grew back, he'd chop this one off just so he could have the satisfaction of flipping it off. 

Fuck, he was going to kill the next moron that crossed his path once he was out there swinging again. 

He paused. Would he still feel this way once the pain and anger subsided?

"Give it a couple of days, you'll feel better once you've been given a chance to actually rest. Now, can I convince you to take a handful of Tylenol?" 

Peter sighed and reached out to lean heavily on his hand as he was brought to his bed. "Yeah, I guess. Thank you."

Wade produced a handful of pills as promised and offered him a glass of water. He finished both only to be handed a bottle of Powerade. He glanced up at the man with a quizzical look. "I'm not that thirsty." 

"Drink it anyway."

"I just had an entire glass. If I have this too I'm going to have to pee really bad soon and that means I have to get up again and move sooner than I want to," he reasoned. 

"Then piss in the bottle, Peter. Drink fluids as you can, your body will thank you, even if it is suffering while you get up to piss."Despite knowing and being pushier about Peter's identity than Peter was comfortable with, he didn't feel that Wade was really treating him any differently. He wasn't staring too long, he wasn't tense or giving him an analytical stare. He couldn't help but wonder if that was the man playing his caregiver part or if Wade really didn't care. Only time would tell.

Assuming he opted to allow Wade to remain in his life despite the reveal. 

His phone dinged and he glanced over, reaching for it and tapping at it to open up his notifications. OnlyFans - four new subscribers.

He had been working on his content. First, he'd built up a good stash of photos and started editing so he didn't have to make content as he updated. for a few weeks now he'd been uploading once a week with content from one of his earlier sessions. So far it was nothing too exciting- which is how he intended it to stay. Just attractive angles of his body and positions that hid his face while he posed with some item or action that implied it was Spider-Man fan content. 

His face began to burn and he rolled his eyes at himself before casting a glance toward Wade. He was startled to see that the man was staring right at him.

"What?" 

"Nothing," Peter answered quickly. "Just a client thing. I'll be making a few dollars more from someone else asking for photos." He wasn't lying. It was true, he was offering access to Spidey photos for a low monthly price . . . He'd had two subscribers for a little while and gained two more recently. He was a little surprised by the jump of four. At the lowest tier that would be like an extra fifty bucks a month. That would be great if they stayed. He had a good stash of finished photos he still had stashed away that he could upload while he was healing. But he had a more expensive tier that offered user requests or personalized content. What if someone opted for one of those and he couldn't deliver?

"That's nice. Have you had any traction on that personal website where you could sell prints?" 

"Uh, yes and no. I'm waiting to hear back from a printing service that would cover the shipping and printing side of things." He'd gone through a few different scenarios for that side of his possible future business and decided outsourcing would be easier in the long run and safer for his brand name. He didn't consider himself the most reliable person and he didn't want to be in charge of shipping and handling. 

"That's a good start. At least you're getting somewhere."

"What do you do, Wade."

The man was busying himself now with wadding up various bloody clothing and blankets. He looked back over at Peter while he was shoving everything into a laundry bag. "What?"

"What do you do for work?"

"Oh," Wade hesitated. "I'm like a handy-man. I hire myself out to do an array of work, nothing specific. People ask if I can do a job and I decide if I can and what the price will be and go out and do it. I haven't been working since I started my treatment though. You'd be surprised what people will pay for odd jobs. It's like being a freelancer only without the starving artist part."

"Funny." 

"Not really, I suppose." the man hummed and shoved the bag aside. "The suit, does it need any special washing requirements?"

"Don't wash the mask," he muttered, skin scrawling as he thought about how casual this was. Wade knew and it wasn't a big deal?

"So. Are we at least finished with the part where you deny who you are?" Wade asked. 

Maybe he'd spoken too soon and Wade wasn't ready to be normal about any of it. Not that he was ready to be normal about it either. He stared the man down, the question tickling his annoyance. No, we wasn't finished but he wasn't going to be given much of a choice. Wade seemed the man who would push back as much as he was pushed away. If he wanted to get away from this he had a feeling that he'd have to disappear. Which is hard to do without becoming homeless and he didn't have a car to sleep in. So that wasn't an option. 

"I'm not answering that question." He didn't want to answer any more questions, truthfully.

"Okay," Wade said awkwardly, staring at him for a second like he was unsure whether he was going to argue with him or not. "I'll be over here cleaning your bathroom then."

"Wade, don't do that. I'll do it when I can. You've already done more than enough." He looked over at his bedside table, surprised to see that his webshooters were there. He didn't remember taking them off but maybe he had? Or maybe Wade did it when he wasn't paying attention? He had a feeling the guy was brash enough to ask him what the hell they were though. He slipped one onto this right wrist and looked Wade's way. 

"This needs to be done. And it's just a quick wipedown anyways, nothing crazy it's not like-" Wade was cut off by the bathroom door slamming shut in front of him. He paused a second, seeming unsure of what had happened until the web Peter released slowly drifted down into his view from where it was attached at the top corner of the door.

"Don't let that fall on you unless you want it stuck on your clothes for the next hour," Peter warned, glad the man sidestepped to get out of the fall of the thin strand. He stared at it for a moment before trailing his eyes back toward Peter, lips pursed. "You've already done more than enough cleaning. Most of the bad stuff is taken care of. You can just stop making me feel bad and sit down or something."

Wade looked unmoved by his antics but his attention quickly shifted as he looked Peter over, clearly trying to find something. His eyes landed on the band around his wrist and he walked over, attention locked onto the webshooter. "What is that?" he asked curiously. 

"Artificial webbing of my own design." He said and subconsciously rubbed at the device. If he didn't want to talk about this why was he inviting Wade to ask about it by creating segways?

Because he wanted to talk about it but didn't want to admit he wanted to talk about it because that would be against his years-long mission. He was betraying himself.

"Cool, could I-"

"No."

Wade raised his palms and mocked Peter's curt answer with a face. "Fine then. You don't even know what I was going to ask."

"You wanted to give them a try."

Wade smiled, "No." The man glanced Peter over, searching for a story. "I was just going to ask if I could make you a glass of water."

"Make me a glass of water?" He raised a brow. "No thanks, I'm still working on that Powerade I didn't want." he nodded toward the bottle.

"Uh-huh . . . So how does it work?" Wad gestured toward Peter's wrist and came to sit on the foot of his bed. I always kind of thought it came out of you. Or does it? I guess you did say it was of your own design." Wade frowned and wrinkled his nose.

"I also said was artificial," Peter reminded with a grimace. "I don't have any webbing glands. At least for now."

"For now? Do you develop things with age?" he raised a wary brow.

Peter shrugged. "I don't know if I develop things as much as perhaps they become more pronounced. "I started losing my teeth one day after I turned nineteen. I'm on my second set of adult teeth. I don't know if that's from the spidery shit or if I'm just special. Dentistry is a higher-class luxury after all."

"That sounds kind of terrifying, did you know they were going to grow back or did you just figure you'd go to a dentist when you needed dentures?"

"They didn't all fall out at once. It was the same pattern as a kid I guess. You know how certain things fall out at a general age? Followed that pattern and took about five years. Lost my canines recently. I don't know if you noticed but the left one was only halfway in when we met."

Wade stared at him like he was trying to figure out whether he was telling the truth or not. he looked up, searching his mind before his face dawned with realization. "No shit, you had kind of a quirky smile, didn't you? I just thought I'd seen it wrong and I was imagining things. I didn't know what was real. Do your teeth grow back during rights? what if you get one punched out are you still screwed?"

"They don't get punched out. They're locked in pretty tight when they're not . . . shedding? I don't know if that's going to be an every-decade thing or not."

"Shedding, do you molt like a spider?" Wade asked, expression turning serious. He looked worried and disgusted. Like if Peter said yes, he might leave.

He couldn't help but smile. He was tempted to say yes. "No. I don't since I lack an exoskeleton. You dufus."

The man relaxed. "Oh, good. That would be disgusting." 

He nodded in agreement. It would be. He slipped off his webshooter and set it aside, watching Wade as the man's eyes followed his movement. 

He sighed. 

"Wade, I need to have a serious conversation about all of this. I keep my identity hidden for a reason."

"To protect yourself, I get that."

Peter shook his head. "No, I mean yes, but that isn't the only reason. I have had to . . . People I know are at risk. Those in association with Spider-Man are targets. I have lost people. There is a reason why I work alone, live alone, survive alone." He swallowed, throat tightening as he thought about all the people he'd gotten killed. People he'd loved. "But I also think that some of those things happened because I was afraid of genuinely protecting them. I was afraid of breaking rules I thought I had been tasked to uphold."

"I am not someone you need to worry about, Peter. I am not here to make your life harder. I can take care of myself. I promise."

"No, Wade I know you think that but you don't understand what kind of people I have to deal with. You might be used to watching them and seeing the terror caused by morons in animal mech suits but as stupid as they are, there are some enemies who I have that are far more formidable. I can't have someone mixed up in that."

"I can survive most things, Peter." 

He cut him off before Wade could say anymore. "And you're working to subdue your healing factor. You may be used to being able to do superhuman things causally but Wade, you're weaker, even if you are healing. I don't know your entire story but I know that I like seeing you happy and at peace with yourself. As you progress, you might not be able to heal the way that you used to. Your treatment is about finding equilibrium right?"

Wade's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to tell me that you don't want me around anymore because you're afraid of me getting hurt?"

He didn't answer, opting to stare back at the man. Wade was smart enough to pick up what he was putting down several minutes ago, he didn't need to confirm anything for him . . . but Wade was also stubborn and was waiting for him to say something. "I'm explaining why I might choose to abandon our friendship in the future."

Wade pressed his lips together and glanced away. His blue eyes looked dark grey in the lighting of the room, and the shadows filled in his hairline. It was giving Peter a glimpse of two weeks into the future. He couldn't help but wonder what it would look like in eight weeks, what Wade's hair looked like. How would he look with different styles, what was his style?

"What if I want more than a friendship?"

Peter snapped his gaze to meet Wade's, body stiffening at the question.