"WHY IS LIFE HELL?!"

Wade craned his neck to look from his spot on the floor, lips bunched and eyebrows narrow, "Uh, I don't know, maybe because someone was stupid enough to get cornered and caught by a bunch of low-beat alphas?"

Peter turned over on the mattress and scowled back, "Well maybe if the low beat alphas weren't such dicks and fought me hand-to-hand insteada drugging me like a buncha cowards"

"I didn't realize you had such high expectations," Wade snorted.

"There's a difference between high expectations and common decency. If your gonna go on and on about how much tougher you are, then put your damn money where your mouth is and fight me head-on dammit."

Wade chuckled small and amused and lay back down, one leg swaying side to side as he grinned up at the ceiling. "Nah, they knew they'd lose. When given the choice, people usually choose their life over their ego, and failing to bring you back probably would've cost one of em' their life. Francis has a terrible temper once you tick him off just right."

Peter sighed and sank further into the mask, tapping his fingers against the old fraying material. It was his turn with it today. It had become law that whosoever came back to the cell after experimentation (or humiliating advances from alphas, in Peter's case) got rights to the only piece of furniture in the room. It's become something of their comfort object. There to fall on after a terrible, no good, very bad day. So long as they flipped it over so Wade didn't have to deal with Peter's scent, and Peter didn't have to deal with his.

But if he were being honest, Peter could barely tolerate his own scent anymore. He smelled so much like other alpha's it was disgusting. The only time Francis let him even wash up was when he was taken to the bathroom to relieve himself, and even then, all he could do was scrub his arms and face the best he could with the cheap paper-towels they had on stock.

An illegal underground experimentation organization and they couldn't even afford proper Hygenic utilities.

Peter would bet Hydra had better budgeting than Weapon X.

With his nose pressed too close against the mattress, the claustrophobic odor of foreign scents became too much and Peter turned over on the mattress again, exhaling sharply to rid his lungs of the stench.

"You smell horrible, by the way," Wade felt the need to pipe up as if he'd been prying into Peter's thoughts.

"Thanks," Peter grumbled, "Like I hadn't noticed." He sighed and lay on his side, watching Wade's leg move rhythmically against the floor, similar to that of a swinging pendulum in a grandfather clock. He's seen one before, back X-Mansion after teaming up with the X-Men once. It was in Xavier's study. A giant grandfather clock that looked older than the professor. Uncle Ben always liked them and often fancied the idea of buying one one day. But they never had enough money.

That seemed like a lifetime ago. How long has he been here? His internal-clock was next to useless, given how often he's pulled all-nighters during patrols and dozed off during the day. He couldn't tell night from the day if his life depended on it, and something told him Wade's sense of time wasn't any better. Peter often caught him mumbling to himself, talking as if there were other people in the room. Sometimes muttered about Afghanistan and fighting, eyes glazed as if he were somewhere else, and other times he seemed so in tune with everything around him it almost made Peter's own senses go in hyper-drive.

Wade's very nature should've been off-putting and strange, and it was, don't get him wrong. But after witnessing it for so long, Peter's kind of grown used to it. It was just Wade being Wade. Even if he didn't seem to know who and what was around him sometimes, he had his own dynamic, which Peter could appreciate.

He never imposed on Peter's space, which only pulled points in his favor.

Still, despite they're lack of measuring time, Peter found that even Weapon X had patterns.

The routine he's adopted in his captivity was a simple one. He slept, woke up, was taken to some weird alpha's cell to "relieve them", which he never did, or he was experimented on by Francis for while (the experiments varying from probing his spider-sense to testing his strength). After that, he was usually brought back to the cell, where he engaged in half-hearted banter with Wade, before inevitably falling asleep only for the process to start all over again. Peter couldn't divvy that into days though, considering how many times he's been woken from sleep to be shoved into some rutting alpha's cell.

There was one way to tell how long he's been gone, but the prospect equally alarmed and terrified him.

As an omega, his heats were roughly 2 months apart. Same with alphas and their ruts. It'd been around a month since his last heat back when he was knabbed from the warehouse, so if he got his next heat here, he could deduce from there how long he's been with Weapon X.

But the idea of having his next heat here unnerved him. Francis loved his little experiments. He'd set Peter in with an alpha during their heat, and other times they weren't in heat at all - just really eager to get laid. There were times when Peter was bound before being thrown in with an alpha, so he wouldn't fight back as much (which, like hell, he knocked their teeth in with his head anyway), and there were times when he was fully clothed. There was one particularly abhorring time when Francis had stripped him completely naked.

Peter face burned with humiliation and rage, even now. He pressed his face into the mattress, uncaring for the revolting scents it let stuff his nose. It just proved how Francis liked taking different approaches to things. If Peter had his heat here, Francis would, without a doubt, take advantage of that.

"What are you worried about?" Wade asked, "I can smell you from here? It's making me dizzy."

"Nothing," Peter snapped and turned so he was facing the wall, "Don't worry about it. It's nothing."

He heard Wade sit up.

"If it were nothing you wouldn't be worrying," he said matter-o-factly. "C'mon Earnest, tell your ol' pal Wade what's on your mind."

Peter glowered at the concrete but didn't turn around. It felt childish ignoring him, but at the same time, he didn't really want to talk about it. Saying it out loud made the prospect seem more real, and Peter liked to fancy the idea that maybe his body wouldn't go into heat and everything would be fine. Personally, he'd never let anyone touch him without his consent, but the alphas held captive here were pent-up and smelling an omega in heat would only rally their determination to get laid even more.

The sheer idea that Peter was just an object for them to have sex with revolted him. Add in a heat, and he may as well not even be a thing to them. Just something they felt entitled to, like the air they were breathing.

"You're worrying even more now," Wade commented bluntly, scooting closer. "Really stinking up the room here."

"Shut up."

"Alright, alright," he said, "Take your time. I'm, quite literally, not going anywhere."

Then he was silent, but his presence remained. Peter could feel it on his back like someone had tossed a quilt over his shoulders. After a moment of tolerating it, he huffed and flopped over, face smooshed into the mattress and lips pinched tightly together. Wade was sitting cross-legged, shoulder's slouched and expression pinched, like a concerned, yet insane, monk with back problems. Instead of a vow of silence though, it was a vow of never getting to use his arms.

He cocked his head to the side and mimicked Peter expression. Only he exaggerated them, puffing out his cheeks like a squirrel and scrunching his lips eyes and lips tightly, like a pufferfish. Peter kept his glare for a few seconds before he couldn't take it and hid his smile in the mattress.

"Stop it, I don't wanna be amused."

"And sitting on your problems is gonna make it better?"

Peter rolled his eyes, "Sitting on thems' worked for me so far, and you can't tell me that you've never ignored your own problems."

Wade shrugged, "Touche. But a friend once told me that the best way to let off steam is to vent about it while beating your own Wade Wilson over the head with a bottle of tequila."

Peter raised an eyebrow, "Did this friend happen to be a drunk old geezer you pestered into violence?"

"Actually, it was my pal, Weasel. A bartender, but geezer at heart. I do always pester him to violence, though. So 2 out of 3 ain't bad."

"Okay, okay, I get," Peter sat up too, leaning back against the wall with one leg brought to his chest and the other hanging off the edge of the mattress. After a long moment of mental debate, he sighed and grit out, "I'm worried about going into heat here," with his eyes hooked to the ceiling and jaw clenched. "I...really don't like the idea of having it here. At all. It - it kind of," the word 'scares me' seemed to childish, but Wade seemed to understand and didn't push when Peter let the sentence drift.

Wade was silent at first. Then, with nary a word or warning, he shuffled to his feet, crossed the room, and collapsed next to Peter on the mattress, leaning against the wall with him. Peter tensed, shifting away from him, but didn't move. He wasn't necessarily worried, just cautious. Wade usually gave him his space, so it wasn't like he was planning anything now.

Besides, he didn't act or smell like his intentions were bad.

"Yeah," was all he said once he settled, "That sucks."

Peter whipped his head down to stare at him, eyes quirked and mouth turned down, completely unimpressed. It lasted a tense moment before he broke into a chuckle and shook his head. "You are absolutely terrible at this."

Wade grinned, still staring at the ceiling. "Well, never claimed to be any good at it."

Peter sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, hating the smell of the alpha's on his clothes. Oddly though, Wade's scent wasn't as irritating anymore. It reminded him of MJ's scent. Something rich in smell, but steady and somewhat sweet. It both comforted him and made him yearn for home.

But there was something familiar about its musk. He couldn't quite place it, but it nagged at his brain.

Out loud he said, "You stink too, by the way."

Wade breathed deeply as if to catch a whiff of his own scent, but his nose was angled more in Peter's direction than his own. "Yep," he said, lips twitching, "smells terrible. Absolutely revolting. But seriously, you need to shower, Sam. That much alpha smell is almost torture in itself."

"You're telling me," Peter laughed. "And my names' Peter, by the way. Now stop christening me."

"Peter," Wade repeated, lips turning upward. He peered at him, looking mischevious, "That's the best you got?"

"Fuck you, my names' fantastic!"

"But it's so plain."

"Your personalities plain!"

"Nice."

"It is nice, thank you."

He laughed, rolling his eyes, "Petey, you're killing me."

Peter crossed his arms, "I thought you said you had a healing factor, oh invulnerable one."

"And I thought you said you were a man of comedians."

"Ouch. That actually hurt."

"Ha! Looks to me like someone else needs a healing factor now."

Peter scoffed, "I have one, and it does just fine, thank you very much."

"But it sucks compared to miiiine," Wade sing-songed, bumping his shoulder into Peter's.

Peter shoved him back but it was with a smile, not so much irritation. "Hey, no digging at other peoples powers till you've seen them for yourself."

"You gonna show me?" Wade asked, wagging his eyebrows, before laughing at his own childishness.

"Know what," Peter smirked, "I don't think I will. Maybe when you've earned the right to see them. My powers are not to be taken for granted, you know. Only the worthy may look upon my amazingness."

"Oh, forgive me," Wade nodded sericomically, "A truly noble quest. But the same goes for me. I ain't trusting you with my powers. You'll just take advantage of me," he turned dramatically to the side, lip jutting out in a pout, "that's all you rugged mystery men do."

With all their moving about and teasing, the mattress was slowly getting pushed away from the wall, but Peter was too comfortable to fix it. Somewhere along their bantering, his worries had melted away and for the first time since getting shoved into the cell, he wasn't feeling so threatened. He hummed and leaned back, shoulder pressed against Wade's. It was nice and warm.

It lasted a minute before his eyes widened and he lurched away, pointing accusingly at Wade, "CALMING GOAT!" He screeched. "Dammit Wade, I didn't want to be calm!"

Wade blinked, somewhat startled, before screeching back, "Don't hate me for who I am!"

"I can't believe you've done this!"

"Don't start quoting vines on me!"

"You can't tell me what to do, calming goat!"

Wade responded by baa'ing aggressively and turning his nose up.

Peter gasped, affronted.

<><><><><><><><><>

After that fiasco, they split ways again. Peter wasn't necessarily angry at Wade, nor Wade at Peter, but both were equally amused in their exaggeration and kept up the charade of betrayal. Eventually, while shooting snarky insults at each other, and inevitably falling into a Baa'ing competition, sleep overtook them.

It was hours later that Peter jolted up, feeling a flush and flustered tingle on his skin, with a strong impression that something was wrong. He paused for a long moment, sorting through his bodies sensations still half-asleep, before freezing and paling. He recognized that smell. His parched throat. The sensation growing in the pit of his stomach.

All pretense of sleep left and he scrambled toward the mattress and grabbed Wade's shoulders, roughly shaking him awake, "WADE! WADE!"

Wade jerked up, arms straining within his straitjacket as if trying to punch someone, before recognizing Peter and going slack again. He blinked the sleep from his eyes rapidly when Peter continued shaking him, looking at Peter like he was trying to translate his words from some unknown language.

"WADE!" Peter grabbed Wade's face, panicked and worried, "I'M GOING INTO FUCKING HEAT!"

Wade stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide and speechless. Almost without realizing it he said, "Funny you should word it like that."

Peter glared, completely and 100% not amused.

This chapter is a little shorter than normal, but I wanted to give ya'll something sweet and fluffy before things go terrible again! This was supposed to be the last chapter, but, as always, things get out of hand, and I deduce there might be 1 or 2 more chapters left.

Also, I have the next chapter to "Reticent Monsters" in writing right now, so hopefully I can get that out for you guys soon! :3 

Thank you, everyone, who has left me comments and votes, I love ya'll!

-OfficialUSMWriter