Wade likes watching Peter work for a number of reasons.

First and foremost, he needs to make it clear that science isn't his thing. Nor were hospitals - whether those two were related or not. Or needles. Or human experimentation of any kind. Or animal experimentation. And gruesome, painful tests.

Peter didn't do any of those things, thank fuck , if he did Wade would have to pop a bullet in his boo's skull and that would make him very, very sad; but he's still a scientist and Wade would be lying if he didn't say that seeing Peter in a lab, wearing a dingy white coat and goggles, fiddling with needles and chemicals made him feel like he was hosting a horse derby in his stomach. It was kicking up all sorts of feelings and bad memories that he would prefer to say buried in the graveyard of his brain.

But, given all of that , he liked watching Peter get lost in his passion.

For one, it helped that Peter was a high school teacher at Midtown High, not a mad scientist lurking in a dark laboratory, cackling and rubbing his hands together. Peter wore a wrinkled button-up shirt and the nicest pair of slacks he owned, that had a permanent stain on the right leg, had a worn-out teacher faculty ID card that he kept stuffed in his pocket, and an old lab coat he wore as a fun gag between him and his students. Topped with a pair of wide-rimmed glasses, he was a high school heartthrob and made Wade's heart dance all kinds of silly jigs in his ribcage.

Secondly, Peter had a habit of sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth when he was concentrating, and maybe that wasn't the safest thing to do in a lab full of chemicals, but it was just so damn cute . Besides, Peter was the science-guy here, if he couldn't have his tongue out while mixing chemicals, putting things on fire, and working with fumes, then he wouldn't do it. Maybe. Probably .

Thirdly, he got so caught up in his work that his big smarty-pants brain stopped working. And by that, Wade means Peter doesn't spend so much time worrying, or fretting about things he still has to do, and plans he's probably going to be late for anyway. Put him in front of a microscope or a gaggle of test tubes, and in 5 minutes flat, it's all he's going to be focused on for the foreseeable future.

But that was okay, because it gave Wade ample time to observe his partner without being shooed away. Watching Peter seamlessly slide into his natural environment was intriguing and Wade wanted to memorize every scrunch of eyebrows and twitch of his lips.

Fourthly, and probably his most favorite, was that Peter was on a mission to convince him that science wasn't all bad. And it wasn't so long as it remained in this dorky, wannabe-lab with posters of atoms, rock sediments, and safety instructions stapled crookedly to the wall.

You see, Wade had bad experiences with labs. He was poked, probed, and tortured, in the name of science and evolution or whatever the hell they wanted to call it, and it didn't exactly leave him with a peaceful state of mind.

So, yeah, maybe Weapon X killed the little scientist in him, if there ever was one at all. Sue him.

But Peter liked introducing Wade to the softer, more fun side of it. Like making goo, and different colors of fire, and cool experiments with electricity (and possibly how to make a homemade bomb, but Peter's been giving him the side-eye on that one). He was determined, and Wade was fine with that. He backed off whenever Wade was uncomfortable, and the weekly Saturday science experiments they've been hosting in their small apartment kitchen were fun.

Technically, he wasn't supposed to be here. Peter was staying late tonight to grade papers, and he planned on staying a little after to take advantage of the school's resources to make web fluid. So, Wade patrolled alone, but the night was quiet and dull, and after he finished his rounds, he got bored and going home to an empty apartment didn't sound appealing. So, he did what any other lonely sap would do, and snuck into Midtown High, put their silly school camera system in a loop so he wouldn't be seen, and slid open the door to Peter's classroom without a sound.

There's only one row of fluorescent lights on at the back of the room, and sitting with his back to Wade is Peter, hunched over the countertop and engrossed in the bubbling mess in front of him. Wade smirks and tip-toes inside, closing the door behind him so carefully he doesn't hear a click as it slides into place.

Wade takes one step in.

"Bored?" Peter asks without looking up and Wade froze, then huffed, dropping his stealth plans as well as his arms, in defeat.

"Yeah, one can only patrol the same alley for so long before humping cats get boring."

Peter snorted, pushing the bridge of his glasses back up his nose. Wade loved those dorky little things. He loved how Peter looked in them. The way they reflected his brown eyes when he dropped to his knees and dipped his fingers into Wade's pants. Loved how flushed his cheeks got. How his glasses tilted on his nose as Wade curled his fingers in his hair and -

"Nothing to do at home?"

Wade jerked out of the memory like a fish on a hook, attention snapping back to his partner, and he grinned crookedly. "Nothing but old reruns I don't wanna watch. Was gonna clean the ol' guns, but I didn't even have to use them tonight, so what's the point? It was boring out there. City that never sleeps, my ass. Try, city that puts you to sleep."

Peter cracked a smile, "I'm still finishing up this batch of web fluid, it won't be done for another 30 minutes. You can stay if you want, but I don't think it's going to be anymore interesting."

"Says you," Wade said, loudly pulling up one of the stools, it squealing harshly against the linoleum, and sagging into it.

Peter stopped measuring chemicals to give him a pointed look, "What have I told you about lab safety?"

"Come on, I'm wearing a mask," Wade pointed to said mask.

"So what? That's just as dangerous. Chemicals could soak into it, it's not going to protect your skin as much as you think it will."

"But I can heal . Nothing in here is going to hurt me."

"So what. My lab, my rules, now hop to it."

Wade kicked his feet and pulled himself back up, dragging his way to the box of goggles near the door like one of the annoyed teenagers who frequented the room. "You're so bossy when you're at work. How do your students put up with you?"

Peter's smile widens, "I make up for it by doing cool shit, like turning fire purple, or showing them how to make their own computer at home."

"You're bribing kids for their love and I hope it keeps you up at night."

"I'm giving children the gift and wonderment of knowledge, you're the one who keeps me up at night."

Wade stuck his tongue out with a smirk, "Damn right, I do." He dug through the box until he found a pair of goggles suitably to his liking. He contemplated taking the mask off, but he was feeling petulant, and put the goggles on over it.

He returned to his seat, head in hand, and watched Peter nerd over the counter. Which was fine, Wade wouldn't be able to tell the difference between hydrochloric acid and hydrofluoric acid if he tried, and frankly, he didn't care enough to sort it out. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to poke.

10 minutes of silence rolls by before Wade eases out of his chair and strides over to Peter, coming to a stop behind him and peering over his shoulder. He makes sure to step loud so that Peter can hear. He couldn't sneak up on him if he tried, but he's also learned his lesson. You don't try to sneak up on a focused chemist when they're around acids.

Peter doesn't look up but hums a greeting.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked, propping his chin on Peter's shoulders.

"Making webbing. Like I told you."

Wade sighed, "Yeah, I know, it was just so quiet. I don't know why you don't just use your wrist webbing, it seems soooo much easier than doing this every week."

Peter's lips tilt upward, "Organic webbing kills my wrists. Besides, it's kind of calming to make my own."

Wade lifted his chin to stare at him, and then squinted at the bubbling white mixture, "How?"

"I don't know...it's just second nature I guess. I know exactly what I need to do, when I need to do it, how much I'm going to need," Peter sighed thoughtfully, "It's just nice to do something without having to think about it too hard. Besides,this way I'm not murdering my wrists every time I need to chase down the Vulture. It's a win-win."

"Huh," Wade fought the urge to tap the glass. Hot surfaces were another thing one probably shouldn't touch, but the impulse was there. "I guess it is, if you enjoy being a nerd , you nerd."

Peter rolled his eyes, "Being called a nerd, in a school classroom, with no teachers around to put an end to my torment. Yep, all those warm, fuzzy memories are coming back. Just like old times."

"Except," Wade leaned down to whisper in his ear, "You are the teacher."

Peter's eyes widened, "I am the teacher."

"You're my nerdy, lil bug teacher," Wade grinned, kissing the nape of Peter's neck.

He expected it when Peter turned around, eyes gleaming, "Bug?"

"Bug," he affirmed.

" Bug ?"

"That's right."

"As a teacher, its my sworn duty to inform you that spiders are not bugs-"

"They're arachnids," Wade finished, smiling his patented shit-eating grin. "Yeah, yeah, but what's really the difference between em? I'm just as likely to squash both if it's crawling up in my business."

"Well, you see, arachnids have two body parts, whereas bugs -"

"Babe, please, that was rhetoric. I was kidding. I'm a silly jokester, ha ha ha. Please don't make me sit through this lecture again. You know I failed the pop quiz, and I don't think my ma and pa will be happy with another failing grade."

"Maybe that just means I need to educate you more," Peter said, twisting on his stool and curling his fingers into the straps around Wade's shoulders, "If the student isn't learning or retaining the information, it's the fault of the teacher for not doing their job."

"Hahaha, you'll never educate me. I'm a free spirit."

Peter hummed, looking down in thought, only to sucker punch Wade in the lungs as he looked back up through his flashes, glasses perched on his nose, expression challenging, "Never? I'm sure there's a few things I could teach you."

An animal in its natural habitat. There are few times Peter's has looked as predatory as this, and of course , it's when there's science involved. The damn nerd. Math equations are probably one of his turn-ons.

Wade's mouth goes dry, looking into Peter's sharp eyes that are staring at him like he were another equation he was anxious to work out. Wade felt himself unraveling under that stare piece by piece.

"Is that so," he managed to say, "Like how?"

Peter turned completely away from his flask of webbing, and Wade knew he was in for it. He stood up, adjusting the collar of his lab coat casually, like he was making himself presentable before a group of colleagues, and then stepped towards Wade, coaxing him backward until he had him pressed against the opposite table. Peter's hands planted themselves at the edge of the table, on either side of Wade, boxing him in. Wade was taller than him by a good few inches, thicker too, but Peter looked positively looming and Wade felt a pleasant twist in his groin.

"Like how? I'll make a scientist out of you, that's how," Peter said, as if it were the most obvious thing, "I think you underestimate just how much you would enjoy it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," said matter-of-factly, "In fact, I can teach you a little something right now if you want."

Wade's mouth is a desert eager for Peter's oasis. He swallowed hard, focusing on Peter's face, but it was a hard task to do when Peter leaned into Wade's body. The warmth soaked into him, fighting off the lingering bits of December chill.

"I think I can spare some time."

Peter's smile was sharp, calculated, and it sent a pleasant shiver down Wade's spine. "First things first, any good scientist worth their two cents knows the scientific method. Do you know it?"

He learned about it in school, but that was so many years ago it was practically irrelevant, and even then, it probably wasn't a class he paid attention in. But even if Wade had been at the top of his class, he would've shaken his head anyway just to keep Peter talking.

"No? Well, that won't do. Pay attention or I'll have you take notes."

As if he could look away now.

"Step 1 is observation. Find something that intrigues you," Peter gave Wade a pointed look, "And observe it," he made a show of looking Wade up and down, appreciatively, from his combat boots to the silly goggles around his mask. There was nothing innocent about that look. A hungry spider sizing up its prey. "Step 2 is questioning."

"Questioning?"

"Yeah," Peter said, and his voice dropped to a low, husky murmur, filling the pocket of space between them, like a secret only they could share, "like, what kinds of sounds I can get you to make right here, right now, pinned to this table? What would you taste like? What does my name sound like on your lips when you're breathless and panting? How would you feel pressed up against me?"

Wade's feeling a little breathless right now. His mind is blank, and his knees threaten to buckle when Peter slides a knee between his legs, adding just enough pressure to turn that twist in his groin into an eager coil. He clutched the edge of the table, just shy of Peter's hands. Maybe science wasn't so bad after. It was slowly becoming his favorite subject.

"What do I do after that, Professor Parker?"

"After that," Peters' glasses glint in the light, and a pleasurable chill runs down Wade's spine a second time. Those glasses are going to murder him one of these days. "you experiment. And then you experiment again. And then again. And then again ," with each word he leaned in closer, until their lips were centimeters apart. Wade felt Peter's warm breath through the mask, and he wished he had taken it off afterall. "You experiment until you collect every bit of data that you can get about everything you want to know about your specimen." His hand began to stray from Wade's chest, down, down, down - oh, right there .

"Y-yeah? And then?" Wade whispered, any closer and their lips will be touching. The aching need to close the distance is palpable, but he waits patiently for what Peter has to say. Like a good boy. An A+ student. He deserves a gold star.

"And then," Peter says, and his lips barely brush Wade's before he's pulling away, there one moment and gone the next, leaving Wade propped against the table, hard, flushed hot and red. "You compile all your data into organized notes, put them together, analyze them, let others analyze them, and then publish those results. Bada-bing, bada-boom, further exploration of the scientific community." Peter chirped, disgustingly cheerful as he strode back to his primary table.

Wade's brain jerked and stopped, and then jerked and stopped some more. Gears grinding and struggling to return to their normal function. His entire being was reeling, like he'd been yanked back by a giant hook, so it took him a moment to string together Peter's litany of words, "Excuse me, what ? The fuck ?"

Peter was back to scribbling things down and finally took the jar of webbing off the bunsen burner, "Hm? What's that?"

Wade's brain scrambled. He felt like a newborn fawn on stick legs, struggling to keep itself upright. He could still feel Peter's breath on his lips, the simmering heat growing in his groin flickered with fire, and his body wasn't prepared for the sudden departure. He mumbled a few nonsensical words that didn't make sense, and his brain defaulted to the pick-up line he was going to use on Peter when he walked over there in the first place, "Are you Copper and Tellurium? Because you are Cu-Te."

Peter stared at him.

Wade stared back.

The laugh that bursts from Peter's chest is loud, warm and amused, and it makes Wade tingle pleasantly. Like he did something right. Peter looked him over again, smiling so broad and fondly, his heart turned to putty. "Are you Beryllium, Gold, and Titanium? Because you are a Be-Au-Ti."

Annnd just when Wade thought he was gaining the upper hand again. Dammit.

"Uhhh..." he eloquently said, racing for another pick-up line, but that one had been as far as he got.

Peter continued his assault with bright eyes, "Are you Fluorine, Iodine, and Neon? Because honey, you are F-I-Ne."

Wade buried his head in his hands. " Stop ."

"You must be made of Beryllium and Barium because you're a total Ba-Be!"

"Peter, please, I'm just a sweet, catholic school girl. What would my parents think?"

"I think you have traces of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic, and Sulfur in you because, baby, you've got a Ni-Ce As-S."

"I get it, I get it," Wade wheezed, staring heavenward, "you're better at science pick-up lines than me."

"I would tell you more, but all the good ones Argon ."

"Was that a pun? I feel like that was a pun. Is this what you do? You just stay up all night, staring at your stupid periodic table, making up new pick-up lines to use on hapless men like me?"

Peter shrugged, "I could do you periodically on the table instead if that's what you want."

Critical blow. Critical blow . Wade.ex was shutting down. He could feel his defenses crumbling and, damn, he hasn't blushed like this since high school. Or at least he assumes. He doesn't remember a lot of high school. Still, it's been a while. Peter's the one who's supposed to get flustered with the pick-up lines, that's what all the fanfics say.

He buried his face in his hands and when he peeked through his fingers, Peter was smiling down at the papers he's stashing in a filing cabinet. His eyes flickered over to Wade and his grin widened, and Wade groaned, scrubbing his face violently to wash away the red. He realizes he's still wearing those ridiculous goggles, and wonders if those do it for Peter. Maybe he should wear them in bed sometime, see if it brings Professor Parker out to play.

"You are a menace," he mumbled helplessly, "The Bugle's been right about you all along, and I was a fool for not listening."

"I'm an absolute fiend." Peter agreed. "A chemme-fatale, if you will."

Wade stared at him, officially dead inside, "That was so bad," he cried, "I think I'm going to cry. Fuck, I love you so much."

That admission is what finally breaks Peter's hold, and his cheeks tinge a delightful red, and he clears his throat, turning to seal off the container of webbing and stuff it in his bag. Shrugging off the lab coat and goggles, he stops by the sink to wash his hands before finally looking back at Wade.

"Uh...I'm done here for the night. Ready to go home?"

Wade ran his hands over his face one more time, mumbled a prayer to the ceiling, and followed after him, "Ready to go when you are, Mr. P."

"Don't call me that."

"But all the kids get to do it."

"No they don't. They've been told not to. I will dock points for it."

"Sounds to me like you're abusing your power, oh responsible one."

"We all have our flaws."

Wade holds open the door, because he's a fucking gentleman, and glances at Peter's hanging lab coat on the wall. "You think you could bring that thing home sometime? Maybe we can do a little roleplay?"

Peter quirked an eyebrow, "Roleplay, huh?"

"Come on, who hasn't wanted to fuck one of their teachers at least once."

Peter pretends to think about it, tapping his chin, "I could have you recite the periodic table-"

Wade's shouldered slumped, "Not exactly what I had in-"

"As I ride you."

"Oh sweet Odin on a tricycle," Wade took a deep breath. "I think science is my new favorite subject."

Peter's smile is smug, "I thought it might be."

"Lead the way Professor Parker...hey, is there a chemical equation for blowjob?"

Peter thought for a moment, "No, but there is one for 69."

"Oh?"

"Thulium."

"Fucking sweet."