WARNING: Smut incoming.

Spider-Man isn't going to be happy we're breaking into his boss's house.

"It's not a house, it's a penthouse."

It has house in the name, thus it's a HOUSE!

"Yeah, well, maybe if he had some actual security in here, it wouldn't be so easy to sneak in. When you think about it, this is actually his fault."

True to observation, it was weird how little security Parker had around his penthouse. The rest of the building, from the lobby to the R&D department, was decked in state-of-the-art cameras, motion sensors, backup generators, and a whole swath of security personnel. But as soon as you hit the tippy top floor, where the head honcho himself resided, those cameras and guards became zilch.

Either Parker really likes his privacy...

"Or he's got something to hide." Wade mumbled. "What's so secret that he refuses to have cameras up here?"

Who knows? Rich people were a bunch of freaks. As a semi-rich person, Wade could say that. Sure, he used to splurge his money, enough so that for a few years he had to constantly merc just to get food in his tummy and a cheap apartment to squat in.

He's gotten better at saving it over the years. It was easier, especially given his new line of work with the Avengers. He doesn't have to (he isn't allowed to) kill as often, and so he doesn't have to spend as much money on ammo and weaponry. It left a lot of moola to spend on the important things, like superhero bobbleheads and ribbed dildos.

Picking through Parker's security is the easy part, it's going unnoticed that's hard. Strolling around in a bright red suit, carrying enough guns to make a too patriotic southern red neck pop a boner, tended to draw a lot of attention. So, he opted for the easiest solution and went through the roof.

He picked the maintenance door lock, and descended the stairs quickly. There are a few cameras he has to dodge, but nothing else. He finds his way to the penthouse, and picks that lock too. This one is harder, obviously more expensive, and it takes a few more minutes than the maintenance.

With a satisfying click , the lock pops open, and with a fist pump he nudged the door and peered inside.

Dark and empty. As it should be. His sources said that Parker would be on a business trip tonight, so the apartment was all his to snoop. He didn't bother being quiet about it once the door was secured and relocked. There were no cameras here, but he still searched the corners and crevices for hidden devices, or motion sensors, and it came back as empty as Wade's Grindr DM's. Parker was either incredibly stupid, or he was about to uncover some really deep shit.

"And here we go," he rubbed his hands together, grinning. "Who's up for a little mischief?"

ME! ME!

I AM!!

PICK ME!!

"Eeeny, meeny, miny – let's start with you," he chose a random drawer and rummaged. The likelihood of finding a condemning piece of evidence hidden in his kitchen was slim. Unless there is a head in the freezer.

Wade checked. He did not.

"But he gets negative points for keeping his drawers so damn so cluttered," he griped, weaseling a spatula out from under the top of the drawer where it was stuck. "So sloppy."

The door across the room creaked as it opened and Wade spun around, holding the spatula out in front of him in defense. The man standing in the doorway was barefoot, clad in a t-shirt and boxers, and wielding a broom like a sword.

Wade screamed. Peter screamed back. Wade threw the spatula and Peter attempted to ward it off with the broom; it hit the wall next to him and he stumbled backwards, flailing. When he righted himself, one hand on his chest, he screeched, "DEADPOOL? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

Not a house.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN YOUR HOUSE?"

Still not a house.

"W - what am I -" Peter sputtered, he raised the broom like he was going to knock Wade over the head with it. He's got balls, Wade would give him that. "I live here. I have every reason to be here. Why are you here?"

"I thought you weren't home!"

"That's makes this so much worse. You get how that makes this worse?"

Wade held out his arms to calm the air. "Okay, okay, okay, let's all just calm down," he leaned back against the counter, knocking the drawer closed, in example of how calm they should be exuding. "I'll answer your question when you answer my question."

"You aren't in any position to be asking questions. You're the one that broke in!"

"Uh, yeah," Wade agreed, "that puts me in more of a position to ask questions. Also, I'm the one with all the guns. This is a stick up, don't anybody move. Answer the question, I thought you were in Japan."

Peter pursed his lips. He looked like he wanted to argue, or stick that broom somewhere that definitely is not rated for children. He squinted. "Are you robbing me?"

"Uh...if I say yes, will you be more likely to cooperate, or not?"

Peter dropped the broom with a huff, shaking his head. "You know what? I don't even care. I don't have anything valuable to steal anyway. Have fun. I'm going back to my room."

And to Wade's surprised, Peter turned and left.

He blinked.

What's he smoking? There are loads of stuff to steal in here. That vase over there HAS to cost a couple grand, at LEAST."

Squinting, Wade followed Peter's tracks down the hall, to a door slightly ajar. He popped his head inside and was caught off guard by the jarring difference between it and the rest of the penthouse.

Every room upon walking through the front door was lavishly decorated with expensive decor that Wade was itching to rub mud into. It was all very modern, simple in design, but so obviously expensive he could taste money in the air.

Peter's room, on the other hand, was a college dorm room soaked in nerdery and financial ruin. There were posters on the walls, clothes on the floor, empty take-out cartons creating their own independent countries in each corner, either empty or half eaten. A laptop and camera sit precariously on the edge of a desk, as well as a handful of doohickeys that looked pulled straight out of a mad scientist's lab - the most expensive things in the room.

The room is big, and Wade is still impressed with the amount of stuff Parker managed to cram inside. It reminded him of a hoarding rats den; nothing like the room of a successful CEO. Then again, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Gold plated windows. A fountain of champagne. Silk sheets created in sweat shops. Maybe a hand servant or two to wash his feet and rub his shoulders.

There wasn't even a pet tiger lying on a mound of fur in the corner.

Peter sat at the desk, back turned, bent over and fiddling with something in his hands. Wade never liked being ignored and shoved the door open the rest of the way, all subtely gone.

"Wow, haven't seen a clutter like this since college."

Parker snorted, but didn't bother to turn around, " You went to college?"

"Well...no, but I've seen enough movies to know an angsty set up when I see it. Which teenager did you hire to decorate? You should see about getting a refund."

"I like my room the way it is."

Wade kicked aside a stack of uneaten food cartons moldy enough to grow sentience. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"Even the smell?"

"Why are you here?"

Wade strolled forward, "What? I just wanted to visit. Can't a heartmate see his heartmate every once in a while?"

Oh, NOW you wanna play the heartmate card. Can't you just feel the bile rising up your throat?

Wade smacked his lips together, swallowing the bitterness down. Parker stopped fiddling with the doohickey and slowly turned, pinning him with a suspicious squint.

"Since when?"

"Come on, I've done some soul searching. Been thinking thoughts, you know, all that fun stuff, and I just think... maybe, being heartmates and all, we should get to know each other. Just a wee bit."

An arched eyebrow in response. "Know each other how ?"

"You ever play 20 questions?"

"I'm aware of it."

"So how about a game?"

Peter's lips turned down and he went back to tinkering, "No thanks. Not tonight. I have a whole string of meetings tomorrow, so I can't stay up playing games."

"Uh huh," Wade leaned against the desk roughly and Peter grabbed the cup of iced water he'd been nursing before it fell from the edge it had been perched on. "And doing your nerd thing is different how? If you've got so much to do tomorrow, why aren't you in bed? IDK it sounds like you're making up excuses."

"Did you really just say idk?"

"Come on, Parker stay with me here. Don't get distracted now. I can't lead this conversation forever - well, I could, but I can't promise it'll stay in the subject lines."

Parker scowled, finally turning all the way around in his seat. "I'm not in the mood, Deadpool."

"What? Like you've got anything better to do?"

Peter stared at him, and Wade returned his gaze unflinching until the man sighed. "Fine. One round, and then you're gone."

Wade crossed his heart.

"So, do you wanna go first, or-"

"Why weren't you at that meeting tonight?"

Peter blinked, stunned at Wade's quick response. "Oh. Getting right into it then. Okay." He leaned back, pinching a tiny screwdriver between his fingers, flipping it up and down. "Well, if we're being entirely honest, I just didn't want to go."

Wade planted a judgmental hand on his cocked hips, "That's it? Mr. Big shot just decided he had other things to do? I've never owned a business as "lubricous" as this before, but I was under the impression that these kinds of meetings were mandatory. Unless it's Hollywood. Oh!" Wade snapped his fingers, "Did you do the thing? Where you tell your secretary to clear your evening? Bippity boppity, all the meetings are off...ity?"

"No," Peter said, "I didn't do that. Believe it or not, telling your secretary to clear your afternoon is a bigger pain in the ass than those movies ever lead you to believe."

"Ha!" Wade snorted, "Sounds like you know from experience. So tell me, do you at least have a smokin' hot babe to sugar daddy?"

Peter sighed dramatically at that. "Not a single one."

"Not a single one," Wade echoed solemnly, "You've gotta have a sugar baby. That's like...rich guy 101. Why else get so much money?"

Peter leaned his head against his hand, "Are you offering?"

"Believe it or not, hotshot, I look great in lace stockings."

To Wade's surprise, Peter looked him up and down and the corners of his lips twitched upward, "I bet."

Wait - hold up.

What's going on here.

Is he...flirting with us? I'm not the only one seeing this right?

Amusement crept on Wade like a shadow and he frantically kicked it away when he realized he was smiling. This is not where the conversation was supposed to be going. Hell, there wasn't supposed to be a conversation AT ALL. Peter was supposed to be gone. Wade didn't come here to get a sugar daddy - however charming or handsome that sugar daddy was - despite the bags under his eyes and the 5 o-clock shadow creeping along his cut jawline. Sheesh, did the guy not know what a razor was? How did he expect Wade to focus when he wanted to rub his hands against that facial hair?

Rude and downright unprofessional. That's what this was.

Wade swallowed, then frowned, stepping away, "Sorry, not accepting sugar daddy applicants today. SHIELD would spank me if they found out I was leasing my services to other top dogs."

Peter tilted his head. "I thought you worked with the Avengers?"

"I do. SHIELD contracts me from time to time too, keep up. I thought you were supposed to be a genius. Also, you never answered my question. Why did you skip the meeting?"

Peter shuffled in his feet, his fiddling increasing exponentially now that Wade called him out for deflecting. "I told the truth. I just didn't want to go."

"You know, Spider-Man goes on and on about responsibility, and he doesn't seem the type to affiliate himself with someone who disregards it so easily. Myself excluded, of course. So how about cutting the bullshit and let's get to the meat of the situation."

Peter's lips pulled back defensively. He was getting prickly. "Why do you care so much?"

"I'm curious."

"No, you just want to know why your B&E didn't work."

"Yeah, I'm curious. I gotta get the facts so I can better prepare next time, duh. This is all part of the work process." Wade waved him on, "So chop chop, let's get to it." He gasped. "Unless it's something embarrassing. "

Peters' lips flattened into an unamused line. It was a crack.

"It was, wasn't it?" Wade pressed with a shit eating grin, "What were you doing? It's gotta be something super personal...hmmm...were your masturbating? That's nothing to be ashamed of Petey, it's quite healthy to masturbate. I've never heard of pleasuring oneself with a tool before – unless you count my ex, ZING ! - but I guess there's a reason it's called screw driver, right? Eh? Eh?" He nudged Peter with his elbow, winking. Peter shoved him away.

"No, that is NOT what was happening."

"I see no other alternative. That's the story now. Unless you have something else..."

Peter turned bodily away, furiously driving the screwdriver into a bolt jutting out of the contraption he was engineering. "Why?" He snapped. "Because they suck. That's why. Have you ever had to go to a board meeting? I'd rather throw myself off a building then sit through that again. Most of the time they're just trying to weasel more money out of you, or further things along without the product being ready, and I'm so sick of dealing with their shit.

Okay...was not expecting that.

"Wow," Wade crossed his arms, "Sounds like you've got a lot on your chest. I'm definitely trying to be foreword here, so don't try to change the subject, but if you hate it so much , then why build a company in the first place? Did you not read the Millionaire Handbook? Kind of a sloppy under sight on your behalf."

" I didn't build this company," Peter mumbled, and then backtracked when he realized Wade overheard. "Well I - I didn't really...want to. It wasn't really...it was this whole thing, you don't want to hear about it...It's complicated, and I–"Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just...forget it. I'm stuck here, so what's the point."

"The point?" Wade parroted. "Okay, stop me if I'm wrong, but...why build the company then? I'm trying to connect the dots, and things aren't coming up crystal."

"It's complicated."

"Wow, that sounds like every emo, angst riddled excuse written by a white man. Come on, hit me with the deets."

"I'm gonna hit you with something else if you don't leave me alone." Peter threatened, but it's tired and he drags a hand down his face. "I never wanted to run this company, alright. I'm not good at it. I don't like it. I prefer sitting in a lab creating things, not...going to press conferences and talking with investors."

Wade pressed his hands together sagely, "I'm no expert, but can't you just quit? Is that an option."

"I can't just...just quit . It's not that simple."

"Seems pretty simple to me."

"I have a feeling a lot of things are simple to you."

"Oooh, attacks to my intelligence. Ouch, I've never heard that one before," Wade rolled his eyes. "Stop being a piss baby and do something about it."

Parker shot from his chair, glaring heatedly. He was shorter than Wade by a good couple inches, but that didn't deter him in the slightest as he got in Wade's face. "We were supposed to be playing 20 questions. My turn. Why did you break into my house?"

"Are penthouses really considered houses though?"

"Answer the question ."

"Do you want the sugar-coated version?"

"I want an honest answer."

"Fine," Wade leaned close to Peters face. "I don't like you. I don't trust you. I don't think a guy who created a huge, multi-million-dollar company almost overnight can do that without putting bodies in the ground. I want to know where you hid those bodies and just how upset about it I should be."

Peter sneered, "Since when do you give a fuck? If you're so concerned over billionaires putting bodies in the ground, why don't you go snoop around Hammer? Or Oscorp? Or, hell, if you dig far enough, you could turn something up at Stark Industries. It wasn't that long ago that you were cutting people down like livestock. You're no better than you think I am."

Oooh! He's got you there, big guy!

Ha, looks like you two are made for each other! He's got you down to the core.

Wade's jaw clenched and he grabbed Parker by the collar, shoving him against the wall. Parker didn't look winded or put off, he was still glaring with those hardened brown eyes.

"You don't know jackshit about me," he snarled. The way his stomach clenched said otherwise. "At least I'm not putting myself on a pedestal claiming to be a saint. You've got Spider-Man so far on your dick it's pathetic. I don't know what you said to make him your little pet hero, but I'm not buying it. I see right through you."

Parker's face was inches from his, "Then go get your eyes checked asshole. With your head shoved so far up your ass, I can't imagine you see much."

He riles Wade up and he can't pin down why . It could be his stupid hair that sticks up in all the right places. Or his annoyingly razor-sharp jaw that Wade wants to cut his lips on. Or perhaps the prickly shadow of a stubble that Wade's dying to feel on his skin. A smudge of grease on olive skin. Those dark brown eyes alight with fire that is new, yet so familiar, that it tugs on him like a fish on a hook.

Wade slams their lips together before he considers what he's doing. This isn't a pretty kiss, it's sloppy, rough and hard. Parker returns with as much vehemence, gripping the shoulder straps of Wade's costume yanking him forward so their bodies are pressed together.

He's a lot stronger than Wade gave him credit for, but he's never been one to back down from a challenge either. He slipped his tongue between Peters lips, grabbing those long, defined legs and hiking them around his waist, and grinds. They may as well have been fighting with the racket they were making, knocking things off the desk, grunting and moaning. But no one comes to investigate.

"I can't...fucking stand you," Parker says between breaths.

"Then don't stand," Wade says, and throws him on the bed.

A collection of books tumble to the ground and then they're kissing again. Wade plants himself between Parker's thighs, grinding their erections together as he bites his lips, and jaw, embracing the prickly feel of that stubble at long last. He dips his fingers in the hem of Peter's boxers and yanks them down to his knees, tearing a few seams as they go. Peter, in turn, is running his hands along Wades belt and growing increasingly frustrated.

"Why is this so difficult," he growled. "Have you ever considered making your costume more accessible?"

"Do you know how many jerky rich guys would try to get in my pants if I did?" Wade snarked, grabbing Peters hands and pinning them above his head. "Too many." He keeps one hand on Peter's wrists, and uses the other to grip Parker's exposed cock. Maybe he grabbed it a little too hard, squeezing a little more than necessary, just to see Parker squirm, but the other man's eyes were such dark pools of want that Wade did it again. The noise that followed was going to remain in his spank bank forever.

He pumped his cock and Peter lifted his hips, thrusting into Wade's hand, head thrown back. With his neck bare, Wade took the opportunity to sink his teeth between the juncture of his neck and shoulder, reveling in the tension of muscle. Peter hissed, gripping Wade's shirt so tightly he heard a tear.

"Ugh, that's hot," Wade groaned. "Can't you stop for one second ."

Peter opened his mouth, but Wade squeezed his dick again, cutting off anything he had to say. All he could do was cling to Wade's body as Wade gripped, and bit, and sucked. He had painted a lovely display of hicky's into Peter's skin when the other man's breath came harder and a flush rose to his cheeks.

"Fuck – Wade, I'm gonna-" and gonna he did. Peter came into Wades hand, arching up into his touch, bliss painting his features. Wade stroked him to completion, drinking in Peter's bliss.

It took a second for it to sink in what he'd done.

He had sex with the guy he was supposed to be researching. The guy he was being paid to investigate, and maybe even kill . The guy who could be the rotten, murderous piece of scum his client claimed he was.

Annnnd heartmates!!!

Suddenly, he felt sick. Wade pushed off the bed, taking in the view of Parker sprawled in front of him from a higher vantage point, and his stomach sunk to his feet.

"What the fuckety fuck am I doing," he hissed, yanking his mask down.

"Wait, where are you going?" Peter sat up as Wade hot-footed to the door. He scrambled to pull his boxers back up, quickly wiping the mess he'd made on his stomach with a blanket, and followed. "Deadpool. Wade. Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. Everywhere. Leave me alone."

"Do you often give handjobs and bail?"

"Don't judge, sex work is real work."

"You're not even gonna let me pay you back?"

Wade stumbled, just for a second. "I take cash or credit, don't forget to tip."

"Not what I meant."

Wade knew what he meant. He was intimately aware of what he meant if the tent in his pants had any opinion on the subject. In this specific case, it didn't. He made it to the door and had his fingers on the doorknob when Peters hand fell on his shoulder.

"Are you mad about the heartmates thing?"

The door stopped halfway and Wade stared out into the hall. "Some people just aren't meant to be, Suzy. What would ma and pa think?"

"Ma and pa can shove it." Peter dropped his hand. "To be fair, I never imagined Deadpool would be my heartmate either. Do you..." Peter shuffled his feet. "I don't know...do you want to talk about it...maybe?"

Cute.

Wade took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were hard and unmoving.

"Don't tell Spider-Man I was here." He slammed the door shut. 

Little bit of a Superior Spider-Man hint there. Otto was the one who founded Parker Industries when he mind whammied Peter and took his body. Can you imagine getting your body back and inheriting a whole ass company?

In other news, SMUT! A wee bit of hate sex. Because these two are incapable of talking about feelings.