The much-awaited Wade chapter.

In hindsight, Wade should've known something was very, very wrong long before he stepped inside his apartment.

There had been plenty of red flags that tickled his brain, but he'd been so happy to be home and so eager to see his boyfriend he ignored them like the brain-dead idiot love turned people into.

What were these flags you might ask? Well for one, Peter wasn't answering any of Wade's texts or calls. That might not be so weird under normal circumstances, because like a good brainwashed capitalist-drone Peter didn't like receiving calls while he was at work, and Wade foolishly assumed that rule was void due to the fact that they haven't seen each other in months. Red flag #2 was that neither MJ nor Aunt May were picking up their phones either - which was strange, because one of them usually answered around the third ring, and Aunt May almost never left him to voicemail. Red flag #3, and quite possibly the biggest stickler in Wade's brain, were the voicemails.

Don't get him wrong they started out fine. Cute little messages Peter left that outlined his day, or whatever had gone wrong, or how he almost got fired by Jameson, but the longer Wade listened, the more his skin began to crawl. He hadn't been able to listen to them all on the flight home and still didn't make it through the entire list by the time he was sliding into the cabin of Dopinder's taxi, which is where he picked up where he left off, swiping through the list and snorting over the messages where Peter ranted about stupid bad guys and giggling over the ones where he was half-asleep and mumbling about the weird dream he had. But sitting in that torn thread-bare seat, the scrape of the windshield wipers and the sound of Dopinder singing along to Britney Spears becoming a dull white-noise as a cold sense of dread infiltrated his body, like someone had injected poison straight into his bloodstream.

Their apartment getting robbed. Robberies Peter couldn't catch. Someone breaking into Aunt May's house.

But it's the last one that sets him on edge, "Hey, Wade, um, so...I think someone's been watching me. I...I just saw someone outside the window. They got away before I could see who, but...but I think they were taking pictures? I don't know, um...I guess I'm kind of freaked out,"he paused to laugh but it's too shaky and tight to be natural, "Yeah, um...I know, it's kind of funny, right. Me, Spider-Man, freaked out over something like this. But, uh...do - do you know when you're getting back?" Peter paused again and for a moment all Wade can hear is his breathing, and Wade sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose because he knows what's coming next. Peter laughed again, this one not as shaky, but it's breathless and sheepish, and Wade can imagine him running a hand through his hair. He always did that when he was embarrassed. "I'm...I'm sorry, I don't know why I called. It's ridiculous. I can take care of this easy-peasy lemon squeezy. I think it just rattled me a little, you know? Don't worry. Call me when you can. I'll update you when I catch this perv. Haha, okay. Bye. Love you."

The phone clicks but Wade keeps it pressed up to his ear for a long moment. When he pulls away his hands automatically swipes down to go to the next one, but it's the last voicemail. He checks the date, it's not even a week old. He taps it and listens to the message again, piecing together Peter's words and dissecting his tone. Then he does it again and again until he has every shake and hitch memorized. Peter sounded nervous, and maybe even a little scared, and that alone pings in Wade's brain because his baby boy has gone through some SHIT and it took a lot to make him sound like that. But the second half of the message is taken over by his classic goodie-two-shoes resolve, the break in the message where it's just his breathing is the moment Wade knows Peter got lost in his own head. Overthinking things, thinking he's being irrational, being over-dramatic, and deciding he needed to fix it himself.

Damn superhero complex. Wade would hate it if he didn't love it so much.

Even with the voicemails, a part of Wade foolishly wants to convince himself that he's blowing this out of proportion too. It's probably just a busy day at the Bugle and Peter has his phone on silent, sometimes he got so caught up in his work he forgot about other things. He could've just forgotten to make new voicemails or finally got tired of doing it.

Besides, if that mangy boss of his saw him on the phone for more than 15 minutes a day, he'd be accused of wasting "precious office time" and get in trouble. Wade wasn't sure why Peter didn't just quit and get a new job already. Or better yet, not get a job at all. He made more than enough money working for SHIELD and taking nondescript jobs to take care of them both, and then some. But Peter had this thing about Sugar Daddies (Wade suspects old issues with his rich ex, Harry Osborn, even though Peter keeps denying it) and keeps saying he wants to pull his own weight, claiming the Bugle was a decent job that was flexible with his side-gig as Spider-Man.

So, yeah, Peter refused to let Wade be his Sugar Daddy and Wade was a little miffed about it. Was it a crime to want to take care of his sweetie-pie? His snookums? His honey-bottom?

To Peter, anything even remotely expensive was considered a crime.

"Hey Dopinder," Wade said, and the cab driver immediately perked up, cutting off his sing-a-long with "Womanizer", "Has anything happened while I was MIA? Anything news-worthy or exciting? Particularly involving one arachno-hero in red and blue tights?"

Dopinder thought about it for a second, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and pinching his face as he rifled through the past few months. "Hmm, no I do not think so Mr. Pool. It has been very quiet since you left."

"Yeeeah, that's what I was worried about," Wade sighed.

Okay, so maybe he was getting worried, and when he started getting worried, he started acting on impulses and doing things that upset the general populace - or at least earned him the stink eye from one Peter Parker. And right now, Wade was either going to cause some havoc in Time Square to see once and for all if he could draw out his Spider-Babe, or threaten to buy Peter the most expensive camera on the market if he didn't start letting him know that he was alive and safe. He was scrolling through options on his phone when the cab pulled to a stop on his street and he entered his apartment building without stopping to grab his suitcase from the trunk.

He didn't get the eccentric 'Welcome Home' party he was fantasizing about in his head - although that party was limited to him, Peter, and their bedroom, wink wink nudge nudge. Besides, Wade doubted anyone really knew he was gone. The other tenants probably assumed he and Petey broke up and were living their lives in ignorant peace. The landlord was yelling in the backroom, sounding a lot more exasperated than he remembered, without it being directed at him. She was raving about a fire and stupid kids playing pranks, but Wade didn't care about that and shuffled into the elevator, eager to be home.

He was just screenshotting the new lense and tripod he was going to buy and sent it off to Peter via text message when he stopped in front of his apartment door and stuck the key into the lock. He went very, very still.

It was already unlocked.

Peter never left the apartment without locking it first. Well, he usually didn't. He did say he forgot to do it nearly a week ago and that someone had stolen their bedsheets because of it, but that was strange to Wade too. Peter has never done that before, and even if he had he was still a fast learner. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice; not if they stole his precious weighted blanket. Wade pulled out the gun from the back of his pants, where he'd stashed it just under his hoodie, and flipped the safety off as he eased the door open with the toe of his boot. His old army days came back to him like he was sliding on an old glove as he strode into the apartment with easy, practiced steps, gun pointed with both hands as he walked down the hall searching for anything that pointed towards hostiles.

"Peter," he shouted, "If you're in here, I'm gonna need you to give me a shout."

He's met with a silence that feels too heavy. He rounds the corner into the kitchen, and then the living room, but both are empty of people. In fact, both are empty period. Wade may have been gone a few months, and his memory was a splotchy mess on his best days, but he was positive something was missing. The furniture was still here, the table too. His tv and the array of games stacked next to it are untouched. But something is missing. He can feel it.

Uneasy, Wade carefully walked along the perimeter of the living room and into the small hall that led to the bedroom. The door was open just a crack.

"Peter," he called again, "I'd suggest saying something before I accidentally shoot someone. Preferably, not you." It was a useless attempt and he knew it. There was no one here despite him desperately wishing there was. Peter, a homeless bum, some random yut – anyone. He kicked the door open and walked into the room, checking the bathroom and the closet in rapid succession as he did, but both were empty.

No one was here.

What does stand out to him as odd is that the blinds are pulled over the window, and upon closer inspection, he realized the window is locked too. Peter rarely put the blinds down and never locked windows. They left through them more than the door on most days, so it seemed ridiculous to keep it locked, especially since they lived on such a high floor, and climbing the fire escape to this specific room was too much of a hassle for the common criminal.

Peter's camera is gone, which means he might be at work. But then again...

Wade did another spin around the room. Peter's laptop was gone. So was his cellphone. The bed was stripped bare, as he mentioned in the voicemails, but his shoes were gone as well. That's when Wade realized what was missing.

Peter's belongings.

Most of them were gone. Clothes were missing from the dresser, framed photographs from the desk and nightstand. Books, new and old, that had been stacked against Peter's desk and shoved onto the single bookshelf they owned were gone. His camera, his laptop. In the living room, it was the soft Fantastic Four blanket he snuggled in when they watched movies. His coat, his winter gloves, the Deadpool beanie Wade bought him as a joke (to match the Spider-Man beanie he'd bought for himself). In the kitchen, it was his favorite mug.

Not everything was gone, just things that held special value. Things you wouldn't notice missing at first glance.

Wade punched Peter's number in again and cursed when he got voicemail. He called MJ and Aunt May again too, but they still weren't picking up. Something was definitely wrong here, there was no denying it anymore. A nasty feeling was churning in Wade's gut, the same one he got whenever Ellie was threatened or a particularly douchey brand of villain thought they could trapeze around and do whatever they wanted. The same one he got when people thought they could cross him and get away with it.

He left the apartment. There was no use calling the police, Wade didn't need that heat on him, and he didn't want them snooping through all their superhero gear and connecting dots. It was always a special case where heroes were involved, and Peter's special brand of vigilantism made it that much more complicated.

Wade wasn't one to ask for help, but even if he wanted to, it looked like the Avengers were still stuck in Wakanda, so not even Iron-Ass and Captain America were on call. Wade left the apartment, locking the door behind him. As he stormed down the hall, down the stairs, and through the lobby, he could hear the landlord still ranting in the backroom, still about a punk kid pulling the fire alarm and giving everyone a scare.

It gave Wade a pause.

Was Peter there when it happened. He would've known if his own building was on fire.

As he joined the throng of people out on the street he called Peter's workplace and was relieved when someone actually picked up.

"Hello? This is Betty Brant."

"Hey, I'm looking for the Bugle's best photographer. The one who takes pictures of Spider-Man. Goes by Peter Parker, real cutie, sometimes wears glasses, brown fluffy hair."

Betty pauses for a second and when she speaks again, she sounds suspicious, "Yeah? And who's asking?"

"His boyfriend. Boytoy. Long term official booty-call. Take your pick."

"Oh," she sounds surprised, "So you're the infamous boyfriend."

"The one and only," he chirped. "Where's my snookums? He's not answering his phone."

He's never met Betty before, but he can imagine her shrugging through the phone, "I don't know. If you see him, let him know that Jameson nearly fired his ass for his disappearing act the other day."

Wade's walk slowed, "Oh?" He was, careful to keep his tone light, "What happened?"

"I don't know. He just upped and left. Called in sick but I could see that bullshit excuse from a mile away. Barely stopped Jameson from firing him for good. Tell him he owes me lunch."

"Will do," Wade said, already knowing he probably wouldn't. "Let me know if you see him."

"Sure, I guess," he imagined her shrug again, "But I wouldn't hold my breath. He does this kind of thing a lot." Wade half-mindedly agrees, prepared to end the call and try MJ's workplace, when Betty adds, "Oh, and those gifts you've been sending Peter were cute. Kudos on you, but maybe next time think about signing them."

Wade's eyes narrow, "What gifts?"

"Oh? OH, I guess that means they weren't from you," she blew out a breath "Uh, this is awkward. Yeah, Peter has been getting little presents over the past few weeks. Couldn't figure out who it was from so I kind of assumed they were from you."

"And what were these presents?"

"Mostly knick-knacks. Keychains. Little toys. There was a model of his camera as one."

"Did you see who was leaving them?"

"Nope. Not once."

"Kay, thanks, bye," Wade hung up before she could get another word in. His merc senses were tingling and it was not happy. He called MJ's workplace, but according to them she called in sick as well and would be taking the next two weeks off. Same with Aunt May and the FEAST center, and Aunt May rarely ever took time off from the FEAST center.

Wade took a cab to MJ's apartment and snuck in. Her locks were the good expensive kind, and it took a hot minute for him to lockpick them, but otherwise, his espionage went undetected – good, he'd have to consider hanging up the tights for good if he couldn't break into one mildly secure building. Her apartment is nearly untouched, but there's a bowl of rotting bean dip on the counter, a vase of dead flowers, and her suitcase is gone, which meant wherever she was going she planned on staying for more than one night.

Wade perused her bathroom and drawers, telling himself he wasn't being a creep, he's just looking for clues so he didn't feel so bad about it. It looked like she'd been in a hurry, had only taken the necessities and nothing else. She hadn't even stopped to change her laundry before she left. He opened the washer to determine how damp the clothes were - if they were almost dry then she probably left a few days ago, but if they were still damp that meant he wasn't far behind her.

What he did find was surprising. He picked up the Spider-Man plushie with careful hands, feeling an unexpected pang at seeing the familiar red and blue costume. His thumb brushed over the threaded white eyes tenderly. It's a little damp, which meant it's been in that washer a day or two, but there's something off about the toy. It's a tad too heavy for a Spider-Man plushie, and Wade should know as he has owned many of themin his lifetime.

He examined it more closely, turning the doll over a few times, before finally spotting the seam at the bottom. By the looks of it, someone had cut it open and stitched it back up. He took out the knife he carried in his boot and slit the seam open and fished through the fluff until he found what he was looking for. A device. A small one, with a microphone, but it looked like it also had been hooked up to a camera.

Someone's been spying on MJ.

Wade took the plushie with him, looping it into his belt Cable-style, and exited MJ's apartment with the same finesse that he used to enter. His next stop was Aunt May's, and just like MJ's apartment, it was empty. Aunt May was gone, and so was her suitcase. She seemed to have been in a hurry as well judging by the fact that she'd forgotten to turn off her closet light. There were no signs of a struggle or that someone else had been with her. Unless someone was threatening her at gunpoint.

The thought alone makes something feral inside him growl and gnash its teeth. Aunt May was the kinder, more motherly version of Blind Al, and she also happened to be Peter's surrogate mother so if anything happened to her...

Wade shut off the closet light, watered Aunt May's plants, and made sure the door was locked before he left. Something obviously went down while he was gone. MJ, Aunt May, and Peter were all missing, no one knew where they were, and by the looks of it, someone had been stalking all three of them.

Looks like Deadpool wasn't finished with his job after all.

[LINE BREAK]

Wade returned to the apartment to change into his Deadpool suit.

With each new weapon he strapped to his body he felt a little more in control of the situation. He was going to catch the bastard - whoever it was - that was harming his family.

Yes, he considered Peter, MJ, and Aunt May as part of his family, and as anyone would tell you, he got damn protective of them.

As soon as he was suited up, he called Weasel. If something had gone down in the city Weasel would know about it. Besides, he had links to the Black Market and a number of different contacts who might have information, not to mention he heard all kinds of hot gossip from that bar of his, and right now Wade needed all the information he could get. Something to point him in the right direction. Or any direction really.

"Yo, Weas," he said as soon as the phone picked up, "Need your particular brand of expertise. Some motherfucker has been sniffing around my crib while I was gone and baby wants to blow off some heads. Have you heard anything on the streets about...anything? Any new players? Anybody kicking up a fuss?"

"Well hello to you too," came Weasel's clipped voice. He sounds pissed. Great, not even back for a full day and he's already making people mad. "Does it ever cross that swiss-cheese brain of yours that maybe you just...shouldn't call? Stop dragging me into your messes and let me live my illegal life in peace."

"Weasel I'm not putting forth the time or effort to coddle you right now," Wade said, pulling back the hammer of one of his guns, the click and snap is probably audible over the phone. Hopefully. "Besides, your life would be a joyless pit without me."

"It'd be a lot safer considering," Weasel muttered, "You know, it is a good thing you called. You know why? Because I don't serve senior citizens in my bar. Not ones that look like they should be on a Golden Girls rerun. I don't care how hot her nursemaid is, do you know what I've had to do to keep people off their backs?"

Wade scowled, "What are you talking about? I didn't send anyone your way."

"Tell that to the smoking hot supermodel I have sitting in my backroom and her grandmother. They came in here the other day, toting bags like we're a fucking Western Inn or something, claiming they know you. Gave me one of your cards and everything."

Wade shot up like lightning, "Give them the phone."

"Call them yourself-"

"Dammit Weasel, give them the phone now. Hurry up."

Weasel muttered under his breath again, but over the phone he shuffled through the room and opened a door. He said a few things, being the grouchy piss-baby that he is, and then passed the phone off and Wade couldn't help the sound of relief he made when a woman's voice came over the speaker.

"Wade?" MJ said, relief seeping through her end of the server as well. "Finally. Where the hell have you been? We need to talk."

This chapter is out quicker because it was already half-way edited. Future updates will probably have a longer 2-3 day waiting period. But anyway, whoo! Wade :DDD He's finally here guys!