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Chapter Text

Up above, the sky was clear and bright with stars. It was a new moon night that left the humid world below in deep shadows broken only by the green light of fireflies and the yellow beams of flashlights in the forest far behind Evan. He was very glad for the darkness as he sprinted through the dense foliage. Though light might have prevented some stumbling, Evan knew these woods well. He’d played in them during all seasons since he was a small boy. He was still pretty small, but at 11 years old, he was fast and agile.

A shrill howl broke through the thick, humid air, and Evan quickened his pace, following the silver feathers of Celestia, who urged him to go faster. Their destination was a cave along the riverbank. It was a place he stashed his most precious possession, one that he did not want to leave behind no matter what. Especially with Magisterium agents crawling all over the property of Clan Akkaba.

Tears threatened Evan’s vision at the thought of the Clan. It was only by small miracle that he escaped the house before it burned; he had no idea if anyone else survived. He couldn’t imagine anyone surviving an assault by the Brotherhood. Magisterium Security Agents were frightening enough, but the Brotherhood, in the blood red cassocks, were terrifying. They were daemonless, living only for destruction and death. The Chancellor’s Assassins.

Evan hoped they were a myth. Now, he hoped that he would live through the night.

In his nightmares, Evan saw this day coming. It was always the same dream. He stood in a fire, surrounded by death, and four murderers on horseback were coming to kill him. He tried to tell Ozymandias, but the Shaman didn’t believe him. He tried to tell Lady Margaret, but she told him that prophecy was not his gift. And now, both Ozymandias and Margaret were probably dead, along with the rest of Clan Akkaba.

Sometime later, Evan would feel guilty for all the times that he complained about his chores on the farm. He would be angry with himself for ignoring his adopted mother and father when they spoke to him. There would be an emptiness that was once filled with the witches of the clan and their strange ways. There was so much that he would do different if he could just go back.

These thoughts made his steps feel sluggish. Evan’s heart was pounding, his limbs aching from the exertion. He knew that miles had passed, but not enough because his pursuers were still gaining. He needed to rest. He needed to hide.

“We have to keep going!” Celestia cried, swooping down to grab his shirt with her claws and tug him. “Please! We have to keep going!”

Evan stumbled on. Celestia was right, he couldn’t give up. Not now. Not yet.

He reached the river, falling into the stream. He gasped at the chill, but it was just what he needed to push him onward. Evan waded across, finding the well worn path created by deer and other wild animals, which he followed with renewed vigor. The scent of the air had changed. There was a musty smell signaling his proximity to the cave and his destination.

The cave entrance was small and narrow, only big enough for Evan to barely pass through. Anyone larger than an 11 year old would have to dive into the river to get inside and hold their breath for a very long time. Celestia helped him scout the place the day the package postmarked Paris, France arrived. The device inside was very special, according to the letter from his uncle Jean-Philippe Cluster. So special that it needed to be kept hidden.

At another time, not this night, Evan would be furious that Uncle Cluster sent the device to him. He would spend time hating his uncle, but like regret, he had no time for those emotions this night. He had to focus to keep from slipping off the slimy rocks of the cave, had to keep his eyes on Celestia, who had transformed into a large firefly to light the path. He had to keep his ears tuned to the world beyond the mouth of the cave to know when to move once the device was in his possession.

Celestia landed on the box, her six legs dancing on the lid as Evan picked it up. He removed the device from the box. It was such a simple thing to be so important. It looked like a pocket watch, but had four hands and a dial of 36 symbols. Evan had studied it in the cave a few times, but never understood what the symbols meant. Still every time Evan picked it up, he felt a strange sensation in his hand that spread to his mind. Every time it felt like something was about to happen, some insight, but it never came.

This time, as soon as the metal touched his hand, Evan felt the pull. And in the dark of the cave, for just a moment, he caught a glimpse of a man in red flanked by darkness and pure light. Evan gasped, almost dropping the device.

Celestia flew up and landed on his shoulder, her light extinguishing as she returned to her owl form and whispered, “Someone’s coming.”

Evan went completely still, his ears straining for the slightest sound. The only thing he could hear was the trickling-drip of water inside the cave and the wind outside, along with the thick rush of blood in his ears. He focused on calming his pulse, but there was something in the air that raised the hair on the back of his neck. And for a moment, he thought he could see something moving in the cave, despite the complete darkness.

Celestia pressed herself tighter against Evan, and gasped, “Something’s here.”

Then there was a voice, a very faint voice that Evan felt more than heard that whispered, "Go out. Go now. You only have a moment."

The hair on the back of Evan’s neck rose, and Celestia’s claws gripped the boy’s right shoulder. Then Evan felt a hand on his left shoulder and he let out a squeak, slipping and falling against the wall. Again, he could see a vague shape in the darkness, but it was more like a reverse shadow, a being made of very, very dim light.

The being backed away, falling down into the water without a sound.

“Night ghast?” Celestia asked, her voice small and quavering.

Evan stepped towards the water, and said, “I don’t know.”

“You’re not following it, are you?” Celestia squeaked as she transformed into a waterbug and clutched his ear.

Evan’s response was to start back to the front of the cave. Celestia bit his ear, and squeaked, “Don’t! We don’t know…”

“It’s okay,” Evan said, and for some reason he felt that it really was. Whatever he saw, the voice he heard, he felt like he could trust it. Why, he couldn’t explain. He just knew that the entity was friendly.

Celestia again transformed, turning into a bobcat, her hackles up and fangs bared and ready to defend her human as they reached the front of the cave. In the starlight, the being shone a little brighter, though it was hard to distinguish. It moved over the water, urging him forward, it’s disembodied voice whispering, "Hurry, they’re coming."

Evan started towards the water, but suddenly found himself jerked up into the air by a massive fist and slammed into the ground. The air rushed out of his lungs and pain shot through his body. He could feel Celestia struggling to breathe, and the tears that he had fought back all night finally fell as she went still beside him. She wasn’t dead; just unconscious.

“Gotcha, brat,” the man growled as he planted a foot on Evan’s back. The man howled, “Over here!”

A voice responded, “I see ya, big boy.”

Evan tried to turn his head, trying to see the source of the second voice, but the foot on his back pushed down harder as the man growled, “Well, if it isn’t the turncoat. Never thought I’d see the day Deadpool went soft.”

“Let the kid go, Creed,” the voice demanded coldly.

Creed let out a guttural growl, and leapt through the air. Evan rolled onto his side, gasping for air. His vision was clouded by oxygen deprivation, but he could still see two people fighting at the edge of the water. There were grunts and shouts, the crunch of gravel and splash of water. Evan gathered Celestia in his arms and forced himself upright, hesitating whether to run or to wait for the outcome.

Then he felt the hand on his shoulder, a firm feeling. Grounding. Without words, the ghast was telling him to stay put. Evan’s heart pounded, watching the fight. There was a final groan, and the larger man fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

“You okay, kid?” the second man, Deadpool, asked as a flashlight flickered to life. Though the light was dim, Evan could clearly see the blood red cassock the man wore. Evan wanted to run, but the steady pressure of the ghast made him stay put. “My name’s Wade. I was sent here by your Uncle Cluster. You’re Evan, right?”

Evan nodded, and stammered out, “Y-you’re one of the Brotherhood.”

“Think of me as a sheep in wolf’s clothing,” Wade answered. He wiped the blood from his katana and slipped it into the scabbard on his hip. “Look, I don’t have time to explain everything, but these guys aren’t gonna stay down forever, okay? We need to keep moving.”

Celestia whispered, “He’s got a daemon.”

Just then, a green parrot crash-landed on the ground in front of Wade, and was immediately scooped up and placed on his shoulder. Then Wade started walking and the ghast-hand on Evan’s shoulder released. Though he was still scared, still hurting from the body slam, Evan followed the man called Deadpool.

In the distance, Evan could see the glow of fire at the farm, and now and then when the wind shifted, he could smell the smoke. Knowing that the smoke of the house was mingled with the bodies of the people who raised him was too much, and Evan dropped to his knees and sobbed. Celestia put her paws up on his chest, nuzzling against his tear streaked face, making small, sad mews that mingled with the boy’s grief.

Wade knelt down in front of him and put a hand on Evan’s shoulder, and said in a gentle tone, “I know you’re hurting right now. You’ve been through hell, kid. I know. But we gotta keep going. Just a little farther.” When the boy kept sobbing, Wade asked, “Do I need to carry you?”

Evan dashed the tears from his face, and weakly whispered, “No. I can make it.”

Wade gave his shoulder a soft squeeze before helping Evan to his feet.

The two walked, how far, Evan didn’t know. But eventually his feet found their way inside a small airplane. He figured it must have been what the Brotherhood arrived in, as it was only big enough to accommodate six people. Six daemonless people.

Wade placed his daemon on the control panel, and the bird walked around adjusting dials, and before long they were in the air.

“Where are we going?” Evan asked after a while.

“Your uncle made arrangements with the Stark Institute,” Wade answered. “It’s in New Amsterdam.”

Fresh tears fell down Evan’s dirty face, and he asked, “Why did this happen?”

“I don’t know, kid,” Wade answered solemnly. “I just know that I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe from now on. Okay?”

“Okay,” Evan said. Then he went silent, and didn’t speak another word.

***

Wade was happy when the kid went to sleep. It had been a very long night. It had been a long day ever since his impromptu meeting with Jean-Philippe Cluster in that shitty pizza place in Brooklyn. It was greasy. The slices were too small to hold properly. The soda was flat. Anyone over 5 foot had to duck to get inside, and anyone over 6 foot couldn't stand up straight once through the door. It was a shady place, perfect for making illicit transactions and conducting business away from the eyes of the Magisterium, especially if the illicit business was with a functioning member of the Brotherhood.

It was not the kind of place Cluster liked to frequent, which was the only real appeal of the restaurant. Wade never liked the smug bastard or his cat daemon, Eva.

As they approached the table in the back, Wade said, “Lookie what the cat dragged in.”

Eva hissed.

Cluster sat in the booth across from him. “It’s good you could meet me on such short notice, Wade.”

“It’s good you have the cash for these kind of meetings, mon ami,” Wade answered as he took a bite out of a stale breadstick. He broke off a piece, holding it out to his parrot daemon as he said, “You don’t want to know the kind of struggle it was to leave my little love nest. You’re lucky I haven’t doubled my fee.”

“I don’t care or want to know of your love nest, Wilson.” Cluster placed Eva on the table and frowned when she immediately nuzzled against Bob the parrot. The daemon had pulled out so many feathers, it was amazing the creature could fly. The only part on its body unaffected was its green and yellow head. Cluster asked, “What happened to your daemon?”

What hadn’t happened, would be an easier question to answer. Wade ignored the question entirely, and said, “You’re not the only reason I’m in town today, Cluster. How about you get to the point.”

Cluster pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket and slid it across the table. Wade picked it up, withdrawing the picture inside of a gray-skinned boy with black lips and red eyes. Cluster explained, “His name is Evan Sabahnur, my nephew.”

“I don’t really see the resemblance,” Wade said, dropping the picture.

Cluster continued, “I believe he is in danger, and I regret to say that I am the one who put him in danger. I sent him something, a rare device that the Magisterium would love to possess. I need you to retrieve the boy and the device, and bring them to the Stark Institute.”

“What’s the device?” Wade asked, eyes narrowing as he suppressed the urge to choke the Frenchman.

“It’s called an alethiometer,” Eva whispered to Bob’s ear.

Wade frowned. “I thought those were just...toys? Shit you give kids to play with at those weird pageants they have at the winter solstice.”

“Not this one,” Cluster said. “I thought I was wise to hide it with Evan. I thought it would be safe. I thought I’d covered my track, but…”

“You’re a fucking idiot, and failed miserably, right Pierre?” Wade tucked the photo in his pocket, and said, “Do you know why I’m here in New Amsterdam right now? I’m here waiting for the rest of my team. See, I just got an assignment from the Chancellor himself to go to Tolman’s Field, Kansas, and take out a bunch of witches who supposedly kidnapped a kid with gray skin and red eyes.”

Cluster nodded. “This is why I begged you to come three days ago.”

“I was busy,” Wade answered. He was silent a moment, his eyes flicking up to Warren, who was nodding his head in approval. Wade sighed, and looked back at Cluster. “My guardian angel says I should help you. But I’m warning you now, I can’t guarantee I can save your witches.”

“I don’t care about them,” Cluster answered. “The only thing that matters is getting Evan and the device safely to Stark Institute. Collateral damage is inconsequential.”

“Collateral damage is never inconsequential, Pierre,” Wade said as he slid a paper with his account information across to Cluster.

Cluster smirked as he picked up the paper. “I’ve always been amazed at the pricetag your conscience has.”

“I wouldn’t be too judgemental, Pierre,” Wade said as he stood. “I’m not the one who gave a kid a target for Christmas.”

Wade went directly from the restaurant to the rendezvous with the rest of the Brotherhood of Assassins, having stuffed poor Bob into one of his pouches so that the others wouldn’t know that his daemon had again manifested.

It was so hard to hide his hatred of his supposed coworkers. They were all products of The World, a secret genetics project experimenting on people in possession of the X-Gene. All of them entered program for different reasons. Mystique was forced into it after murdering a high ranking member of the Magisterium. Victor Creed joined to become a better killer. Daken Akhiro wanted to surpass his famous father’s skills. Wade joined because he had cancer and nothing to lose.

Or at least that’s what he thought. Wade forgot about things like his sanity, his memories, and most importantly, he forgot about his daemon. And the things he did while without Bob… He didn’t like to think about those days.

Now, Wade held his daemon, stroking Bob’s feathers and doing his best to smooth and soothe the constantly agitated creature as Warren stepped up beside the captain’s seat. Wade looked up at the angel’s face. Or at least, he was pretty sure it was his face. There were four of them, always blurring into each other. He asked, “Got any words of wisdom from on high, angel?”

“The future is uncertain,” Warren answered. “If you would just kill the boy, the future would be calm.”

“No. Not gonna happen,” Wade answered. They’d had this conversation twice already, and both times left Wade wanting to strangle the angel. Cluster, too, for failing to mention that his "nephew" was the reincarnation of an ancient tyrant. “Like I told you, he’s got the right to try to be different. He doesn’t have to be like his ancestor.”

“Ancestor implies he is not the same person,” Warren said, frowning on all of his faces. “You will see. Someday, the future will rest on your shoulders. And you will have to answer for your actions.”

Wade glared in the area where Warren’s eyes should be. “I’d rather not have to answer for killing a kid.”

Warren looked at Evan, who was stirring in his sleep. “He dreams now. Do you want to know what visions he sees?”

Wade didn’t have a chance to answer before Warren put his fingers into Wade’s head. Wade’s eyes rolled back into his head, his body going limp as the vision filled his mind.

A vast sea of sand extends in all directions, as vast as an ocean and as lifeless as the moon. Though, once, not long ago there was much life in this place. There was life and blood where two armies collided. It is silent, but before there was sound. The hard crash of metal and metal, the thick wet sound of metal piercing flesh. Anguished sounds of the dying and the damned, all reaching to the sky, to their master, who stood and watched as blood covered the dunes.

He still stands in that place up high, held aloft by a massive beast with a dragons body and the mangled face of a creature found only in nightmares, with wings as black as the Hell from which it was conjured. But the master feels no fear. The beast is as much a part of him as the desert. This is the World. It is his creation, a place that bends to his will and his desires. And he desires death. He desires blood. He desires destruction, and it is given to him readily.

This place of death is ever present. There is always a battle here. There is always silence. The two exist simultaneously. Other things exist too, because the vast and endless desert is not without the towering temples made of stone, surrounded by worshippers who chant his name, En Sabah Nur!

He is their king.

He is their slave.

He is their god.

They hate him.

They love him.

They fear him.

Warren withdrew his hand, and Wade shook his head, and gasped, “You really shouldn’t do that to a guy flying a plane. Not all of us have wings, angel-boy.”

“Did you see?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I saw. Kid dreams of being king. They should have named him Simba,” Wade answered flippantly. “Doesn’t mean he’s going to do it. Just means he, uh… I don’t know. But it doesn’t mean he’s going to be like En Sabah Nur.”

“If you perceived time as I do, you would know what you should do,” Warren said.

Wade smirked. “You said the future is uncertain.”

“Unless the boy dies,” Warren added.

“I’ll take the uncertainty,” Wade said.

The angel looked at Evan, then said, “I must go. I will find you in a few days.”

Wade gave him the finger as the angel vanished from the plane. A moment later, Evan opened his eyes and said, “Were you talking to someone?”

“Just the voices in my head,” Wade answered. “Go back to sleep, kid. We got a couple hours still.”

Thankfully, Evan was too exhausted to argue.

Chapter Text

The Stark Institute was located in the northern part of New Denmark on the bank of the St. Lawrence River bordering New France. It was an isolated location, built during the time of the robber barons who lined their bank accounts with gold from the railroad, steel, and oil industries--all of which the Stark family had a hand in. The resulting manor was a sprawling structure with 180 rooms, large banquet halls, a garden observatory, and small aerodock.

“It’s too damn early,” Peter mumbled as he walked through the courtyard. He yawned, frowning at how wet his sneakers were from stepping through the dew-covered grass, and generally wishing he was back in the city, rather than this isolated nature hell.

“Quit complaining, Pete,” Gwen said from his shirt pocket. “If Tony says it’s important we be here, then it’s important.”

“Tony thought unveiling his new bagel machine was important,” Peter grumbled as the hamster daemon scurried up onto his shoulder, nestling between his shirt collar and his neck. He smiled, then yawned again, and said, “I’m taking a nap after this.”

“You’re going with Captain Rogers after this,” Gwen said, giving her best hamster smile.

Peter nodded. “But after that…”

“We’ll be in the dark room,” Gwen supplied.

“Stop killing my fantasies,” Peter said as he entered the path leading to the aerodock. It wasn’t really an “aerodock” anymore; dirigibles hadn’t been in the skies for almost 100 years. But the old lingo stuck around, like “photograms” and “experimental theologian”. People seemed almost scandalized if the words “photograph” or “scientist” were thrown into conversation. Especially since Chancellor Lensherr took over the Magisterium. The whole world was experiencing a new wave of religious fervor with the powerful council of mutants constantly dazzling the population with miracles.

Peter, despite his complaints, felt lucky to be at the Stark Institute where secular thought was practiced openly among the scientists in residence. Officially speaking, Stark Institute was a Chapel, focused on the research that the Church--and by extension, The Magisterium--demanded. The principal products were papers supporting the official version of history as dictated by the hierarchy. All of those publications were sent out from the Stark Institute’s Department of Experimental Theology, and were always credited to Tony Stark.

Tony Stark, who revelled in living the life of someone completely opposite the Church. He was a playboy, a very well known fan of alcohol, and one of the most outspoken supporters of Dust research, frequently arguing in public that mutations were not divine, but rather a natural occurrence that should be studied instead of considered divine and used to dominate. More than once, Tony Stark had been brought before the High Council to explain his activities, and as always he pointed to the official publications that were always directly in line with doctrine.

Peter was amazed that Tony was still walking free, but Tony was a pro at bribery and blackmail. Money talked, and sometimes it took a lot of talking. And if money didn’t work, Tony was good at finding leverage. More than once he’d reduced a stalwart Magisterium Security Agent into a quivering, fearful mess. Everyone had a weak spot. None proved that point more than Captain Steve Rogers.

Captain Rogers was the poster boy for Church loyalty. He joined the service at a young age, and was known for his bravery during the Siam Conflict. The Magisterium put his face on all their propaganda, and used his homespun charm and boyish sweetness to keep support for the war effort strong. But by the end of the war, Rogers wasn’t as enthusiastic about his position as the Magisterium’s puppet, especially after the disappearance (and presumed death) of his best friend, Bucky Barnes.

This disillusionment only increased after finding Bucky nearly a decade later and discovering his bear daemon, Ida, had been killed while Bucky had been in an isolated prison camp. When they found him, he had been tortured and was missing his left arm. The facility had been deserted a long time, and it was never clear who held him captive. Bucky could no longer speak or function alone. It was a tragic story, one that only those who knew the captain personally ever heard. Peter made that list when the captain came to the Stark Institute after hearing Tony Stark boast about being close to restoring the connection between human and daemon after oblation. Rogers hoped that the same technology could be used to put some life back into his best friend.

In essence, Rogers handed all the leverage Tony Stark would ever need. In the months since the captain relocated to Northern New Denmark, little progress had been made, though Stark was optimistic. And it wasn’t just lip service to keep Rogers happy; Peter knew that Tony stayed up days on end working on what he referred to as the Barnes Problem.

The two men were standing together at the edge of the aerodock when Peter arrived, Stark’s red-fox daemon Pepper snuggling with Peggy the lioness. He stopped a few feet away, listening to their hushed conversation. Stark hadn’t slept, and while the captain stood stock still with posture designed for propaganda posters, Tony was in constant fidget.

“I don’t feel comfortable with this, Stark,” Rogers said, his eyes scanning the sky. “It’s getting harder for me to submit reports to my superiors without outright lying about every single thing happening here.”

“You need to relax, Rogers,” Stark said with a flickering smile. “It’s just a kid.”

“And Deadpool.” Steve fixed Tony with a severe look. “I’ve met the man. I know who he is and what he is.”

“We’ve all heard of Deadpool,” Tony said as he popped a blueberry in his mouth.

“I’ve never heard of Deadpool,” Peter said as he stepped up between the two, both of them turning to him with the same look of consternation. He stooped, setting Gwen on the ground, where she immediately scurried up Peggy's back to stand on her head. The lioness smirked, and Pepper poked the hamster in the belly with her nose. The three started whispering to each other, and Peter said to Tony, "What exactly is a Deadpool?"

“Patience, young padawan,” Tony answered. “I don’t want to explain this over and over.”

“Explain what?” Peter asked.

Tony threw a blueberry at Peter’s forehead, and returned his gaze to the sky. Peter frowned, but followed his line of sight and noticed a shadow. It took him a minute to realize it was a person, and a moment later, Natasha Romanov landed with her staff of cloud willow in hand. Far above, much farther away than any normal daemon should be, her hawk Clint was slowly circling.

Natasha was Stark’s head of security for the facility. The only thing that Peter knew about her was she was a witch, she was Muscovite, and she scared the living hell out of him.

“Perimeter is clear,” Natasha said to Steve. Then to Tony, said, “Do we really need the intern here?”

Peter was about to defend his honor--I’m not an intern! I’m a frigging Ph. D candidate!--but Tony answered, “Leave my intern out of it. He’s a good intern. I like him. Stop scaring my favorite people.”

Natasha’s eyes flicked to Peter, and Peter shivered. Gwen claimed that Natasha actually liked him, but Peter didn’t believe his daemon in this aspect. Natasha was terrifying.

“Good morning, friends!”

Peter jumped at the sound of Thor Odinson’s booming voice. How a man as big as Thor could sneak anywhere was a mystery. But, then again, Peter’s senses were too focused on the scary visage that was Natasha to notice him or his coal black direwolf, Loki.

“Mornin, Thor,” Tony said with that mix of amusement and flirt he always had when speaking to the Scandinavian.

As usual, Loki did not greet the other daemons, keeping herself pinned to Thor’s side with her emerald eyes looking around with disinterest. Meanwhile, Thor picked Peter up in a bearhug, then said to the group after dropping him, “What important business has us gathered in such a clandestine way? Has danger come to the Institute?”

Sometimes when Thor talked, Peter wasn’t sure if he was an excited puppy or an adrenaline junkie. He frequently talked poetically of glorious battle and sometimes liked to pick fights just because he felt like having a brawl. Often, he did this with Banner. And when someone chooses to pick a fight with a Panserbjorn, you know they are a little crazy.

Said Panserbjorn was the last to arrive at the aerodock, his glorious white fur shimmering in the pre-dawn and his dark eyes narrowed at Tony. Ice bears, generally, were considered brutish and lacking intelligence. Banner was proof to the contrary, and was vital to Tony’s research into polar Dust phenomenon. Though, Peter knew from personal experience that Banner wasn’t pleasant to be around when he was angry. Nobody liked him when he was angry. Well, except Thor.

“You want to get started, Stark?” Steve said.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, might as well since we’re all so bright eyed.”

“I have better things to do than this,” Banner said, his voice a booming growl. “Get to the point.”

“Sorry, Yogi,” Tony mumbled. Then he said, “In about 10 minutes, there’s going to be a plane landing here carrying a kid named Evan. He’s the nephew of an old acquaintance of mine, and is someone whom I have agreed to hide here at the institute. More importantly, the kid is in possession of an object called an Alethiometer.”

“Holy shit,” Peter gasped, his eyes going wide.

“That’s what I said.” Tony continued, “The kid is going to be staying here, and since this group is what I consider my inner circle, I wanted all of you to be aware of the full situation.” He looked at Steve, and said, “You want to explain the other thing, Cap?”

He nodded, and said, “The boy is going to be in the company of a member of the Brotherhood, which means we all need to be very, very wary of his activities. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious he might be doing. And if needed, we will not allow him to leave this facility if it will endanger any of us or this boy.”

“Which member of the Brotherhood?” Natasha asked, her head cocked to the side.

“He’s called Deadpool,” Rogers answered.

Natasha nodded. “I’ve heard of him.”

“He’s kind of infamous,” Tony said, obviously not happy about this turn of events. He then shrugged, and said, “But I do have it on good authority that he is an independent agent, whose loyalty typically belongs to whoever can pay the right price. And I'm rich, so we're covered.”

Peter could see a strange look pass through Natasha’s eyes, but the witch said nothing. Instead she held out her arm for Clint to land. The daemon whispered in her ear, and Natasha said, “Our guests are inbound.”

***

The plane landed with a whisper, and Wade turned off all the switches and looked out the window at the group of six and their daemons waiting for him. Cluster said that these people were friends, but Wade was suddenly nervous seeing Captain Rogers among them. Evan was locked in the deep, motionless sleep of someone who had experienced extreme stress. He would not be easy to wake, and Wade wished he didn’t have to wake him at all.

Wade sighed, and very gently touched Evan’s shoulder, with a soft, “Hey, kid. We’re here.”

Evan opened his eyes, his arms immediately tightening on his daemon, who was now in the form of a black and white rabbit with long ears. He sat up straight, his expression blank and bleary. Wade thought he might have questions, but he stayed silent.

Wade stood and pressed the button to lower the ramp. Bob pecked at Wade’s boot, and he picked up his daemon. It looked like during the flight, the parrot had lost a few more feathers. Wade sighed, and put the daemon on his shoulder, and said to Evan, “I’m going to go out and make sure these guys are the good guys, okay. You only have to come out when you feel like it.”

Evan didn’t react.

“Okay,” Wade said, then pulled up his hood and stepped out onto the ramp.

All eyes were immediately on him, but none so intensely as Captain Steve Rogers. It was a good 20 years since Wade had been in the same vicinity as the good captain, back during the conflict in Siam. They fought on the same side, for the most part. Except the Captain was the public face of the war, and Wade and the Brotherhood were there to slaughter the opposition and take out high value targets.

In 20 years, the captain hadn’t aged much. If anything, he looked like the years had hardened him. There was a coldness in his eyes as he looked at Wade. Then again, it was very possible that the captain remembered him. And if that was the case, Wade knew that the deck was stacked against him. He only hoped it wouldn’t reflect bad on the kid.

“All these people at the aerodock to greet me, I feel like I should make a speech,” Wade said as he walked down the ramp. The only person who reacted was a kid with a hamster daemon, who looked like he didn’t really want to be seen laughing. Wade ignored him, and walked straight to Steve Rogers. “I got a special delivery for ya, Cap.”

Rogers looked over his shoulder. “Where’s the kid?”

“Feeling a little freaked out, I think,” Wade answered. “Is Cluster here?”

“No,” Tony Stark answered. Wade would recognize the billionaire anywhere, with as often as he was on TV. “I haven’t been able to get in contact with him since he told us you were coming, but he indicated he would be here when it was safe.”

Wade nodded, and suddenly noticed another familiar face. He smirked and said, “Nat?”

Natasha gave a nod, and said, “Hello, Wade.”

Tony looked at her like she’d grown a second head, especially when Bob hopped down onto the ground and Clint immediately went to the daemon to touch beaks.

Wade smirked, loving the confusion that swept through the group. He planned to say something snarky, but was interrupted by a small voice saying, “Wade?”

Evan was standing at the top of the ramp. Celestia had taken the form of a bobcat again, taking a defensive position in front of the boy. Wade walked back to the ramp. “You wanna come down and meet everyone?”

“Are they the good guys?” Evan asked.

“Yeah, they’re the good guys,” Wade answered.

Evan scooped up Celestia, and asked, “Are you going to leave me here?”

Wade gave his best encouraging smile. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to stay, okay kid?”

Evan hugged Celestia again, and said, “Thank you.”

They walked together back to the group, and went about introducing each of the people and daemons assembled. Captain Rogers knelt down and shook the boy's hand, looking less cold and much more like the man who graced the Magisterium’s posters, with Peggy touching noses with Celestia. Natasha gave a quick bow with Clint mimicking the move. Evan was very hesitant to touch the massive clawed paw of Banner, but when he did the hulking icebear seemed to smile. Thor was a big man with a huge presence, and had the most enthusiastic greeting, though, Wade noticed, his daemon made no effort to greet Celestia.

Then came Tony Stark, who opened with, “You might have heard of me, I’m Tony Stark.”

Evan just stared at him blankly while Pepper and Celestia rubbed noses.

“No? Hmm. Okay, well, my family built the Stark Institute, and you’re going to be absolutely safe here, okay? Okay.” Tony then gestured to the youngest of the group. “And this guy here is Peter Parker. He’s one of my top people, and he’s going to be your tutor and mentor.”

Peter looked slightly shell shocked, but snapped out of it quickly. He smiled brightly, and said, “Yeah. I’m going to be your tutor. Ummm… I’ll probably be showing you around the place?” He reached into his shirt pocket, taking out a small, sand-colored hamster, and said, “This is Gwen, my other half.”

He sat Gwen on the ground, and she rushed over to meet Celestia, who immediately morphed into a gerbil, and the two started to play together. For the first time, Evan managed a smile, and he shook Peter’s proffered hand. He still didn’t speak, but it was a start.

Peter then looked at Wade, who stood behind Evan like a bodyguard. He’d been ignored by everyone else, and was thus surprised when the young man held out his hand, and said, “It’s nice to meet you, uh, Wade is it?”

Wade shook his hand, and could see the young man’s eyes go wide. He released Peter’s hand and said, “Yeah. Wade.”

Peter looked at his hand a moment before asking, “Who’s your daemon?”

“That’s Bob,” Wade answered, nuzzling his cheek against the parrot’s ruffled feathers. “He’s a little shy.”

Then, much to Wade’s surprise, Bob gave the little head-nod gesture to be put down, and as soon as he hit the ground, Gwen rushed over to him. The little hamster sat up on her back legs and Bob bent down so she could press her nose to his beak before nuzzling the parrots wings and featherless chest.

Wade shrugged, and said, “Guess he got over the shyness?”

Peter nodded, still looking confused. He returned his attention to Evan, and gesturing towards the main building, asked, “Would you like to check the place out?”

Evan looked at Wade, and Wade said, “Lead the way.”

***

After giving Evan and Wade the grand tour--which was restricted to only one floor of one wing of the Institute--Peter directed the two to the suite next to his and headed down to Tony’s laboratory where he found the inventor bent over his workbench studying a schematic of the plane that was currently being disassembled on the other side of the safety glass. Tony didn’t look up when Peter entered, and said, “How’s our guests doing?”

“Peachy,” Peter answered, hoping that his tone completely conveyed the level of annoyance he was feeling. “And yeah, thanks for not even bothering to warn me that I was going to be babysitting a mercenary.”

“He’ll leave soon enough,” Tony said as he rotated the image on the screen.

“That’s so comforting.” Peter planted his hands on the bench, and said, “You do realize that right now I’m in the middle of a big project.”

“Yes, I assigned it,” Tony said blandly.

“Am I supposed to stop my work with Barnes to play nursemaid?” Peter asked.

Tony sighed and looked at him with that stern glare that he used at board meetings and Magisterium hearings, and said, “You’re going to keep doing your work with Barnes. You’re just going to have to figure out how to handle doing it with an audience. In case you didn’t notice, the kid doesn’t say much. And Deadpool doesn’t seem to be half as insane as his reputation would suggest. You can handle it.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

“If you don’t think you can handle this, that’s fine,” Tony said, and Peter stayed silent and waited for the “but”. “But, if you can’t handle this? Then you really can’t handle working for me, and should pack your bags and get back to the city.”

“I understand,” Peter said. He knew that Tony was right. Stark Institute did a lot of subversive things; it was half the appeal of working for Tony Stark. Peter knew that it was very possible that he could end up in the line of sight of the Magisterium when he was chosen to intern there. He knew that this was a test, and he was on the verge of failing. He straightened up and said, “I’m sorry, Tony. I’ll do my best.”

Tony smiled, and said, “Good. Now gather your new buddies. Rogers is heading to town soon, and you have a photogram to do I believe.”

Peter nodded and left the lab. Gwen popped out of his pocket and walked up to his shoulder. She said, “I think they’re both very nice, Pete. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“There’s something weird about Wade, though,” Peter said. He remembered the strange feeling he got when he shook the mercenary’s hand. It felt like he’d just touched a warm, sunny day. At least, that was the best way Peter could describe it. The moment the calloused hand touched his, he felt a surge of unexplainable joy inside that vanished once he broke contact. He wondered just what would happen if he were to shake his hand again, only not let go so fast.

“Pete?”

Peter shook his head. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I said you missed our hall.”

Chapter Text

Once in the suite, Wade went to work making sure the rooms were secured. While Cluster was sure that the people of Stark Institute could be trusted, Wade had no such assurances. He was confident that Cap and Natasha were reliable, but everyone else was a big question mark.

The windows did not have very strong locks, and even with the latch closed, they could be easily jimmied from the outside. The doors could be locked from the inside, but that didn’t equate to security. Not to mention that the locks were all ancient, and not the type that would deter a half-ass lock pick.

So Wade worked a little blood magic. He painted symbols on the door and doorframe with a sliced fingertip, the symbols vanishing as he whispered the incantations. The spell was designed that even without the door or window being closed, only those who knew the password could enter. The magic wasn’t permanent, and it wasn’t foolproof. Anyone who knew how to counteract the spell could get through without trouble. A witch wouldn’t even break stride.

Evan was seated at one of the windows, staring up at the sky. It was a clear day, with only a few fluffy clouds breaking up the flawless blue. He still wasn’t talking.

“What do you think about these jokers, eh?” Wade said as he rubbed the dried blood off his already healed finger. Evan didn’t react to his voice at all, but Wade kept talking anyway, if for no other reason than it might help the kid feel less alone. “Kinda weird running into people I know, but then again your Uncle and I have worked with a lot of the same people over the years. Strange seeing Cap, though. You know they make a comic book about him? I used to buy them. Might have some friends of mine send them here for you.”

Evan only blinked.

Wade pulled out the desk chair, and sat down heavily. “That Parker guy seems nice though. Your tutor? Probably some kind of super-genius. Should keep you caught up on school. Good grades are very important, my little friend.”

Still silence.

Wade sighed. “I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know how long we’re gonna be here. I don’t know how long Cluster will take to show up either, but--”

“All these people are going to die,” Evan said in a soft, monotone voice. “And it’s my fault. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be anywhere. I shouldn’t have been born.”

Wade was at the window seat by the time Evan finished, sitting beside him, saying, “No, no. That’s not… No, Evan. What happened, it’s not your fault. It’s not. Don’t you dare think that, because it’s not true.”

Evan looked up at him with red eyes that turned darker as he said, “But they’re all dead, and it’s all my fault! If I wasn’t there…” He pulled the aleithiometer out of his pocket, and said in an anguished sob, “If I didn’t have this, my family would be alive!”

Then he threw the aleitheometer to the floor, sending it clanking across the room, where it came to rest against the wall.

And Evan cried. He hadn’t shed a tear since that moment in the woods walking towards the plane. But now, he let all the pain come pouring out of him. He shook with the power of his grief.

Wade knelt down, and put his hand on Evan’s bruised and scratched forearm, reminding him that he's not alone. A moment later, Evan calmed, though the tears still fell, and he slumped against Wade’s shoulder, clinging to the mercenary like a lifeline. Wade didn't waste his breath on empty promises that things were going to be okay; he knew that nothing for the kid was going to be okay for a long time.

He really wasn't surprised that Evan fell asleep. Wade stood and carried Evan to the bed, removed the boy's shoes, and tucked him under the covers. Celestia crawled up beside him, switching to her rabbit form and snuggling against Evan's side.

Bob pecked at Wade’s shoe, and he scooped up the bird and carried him into the bathroom where Wade started to undress. He was filthy from head to toe. His cassock was stained darker with blood and ripped and frayed. There were gashes from Daken’s claws and a few holes and burns from being shot at close range by Mystique. At least the red hid the blood that caked the fabric.

Wade started removing the layers of his uniform, starting with the capelet which was ripped at the back, more than likely by Creed. He unbuttoned the coat, finding the material stiff, and in places, attached to wounds that had healed with fibers under his skin. The white undershirt was shredded and turned rust red from dried blood. His belt and sash was ruined completely.

Taking down Daken and Mystique had not been easy. And if he had it to do over again, he would have gone after Mystique first. But Daken was in his bloodlust, and had to be stopped. He killed so many so fast, Wade couldn’t believe the carnage he generated. If not for Bob making his flight to give the few minutes of warning, Wade doubted that any of Clan Akkaba would have survived.

Once, not too many years ago, Wade would not have cared at all about the death toll. He wouldn’t have felt like a failure for not saving everyone. He wouldn’t feel guilty everytime he looked at some kid who was so brokenhearted he couldn’t speak, and when he did, Evan blamed himself. Now, it all felt like a lead weight around his neck, adding to so many others that he carried around.

The only comfort Wade could give himself was that he had officially severed his ties with the Brotherhood. Though, the consequences of that remained to be seen. And judging by the black clad man with Wade’s face sitting at the desk with a content smile, Wade was sure that death wasn’t too far away. Then again, his Death was always nearby.

“Don’t be too smug, asshole,” Wade said to the reaper. “You haven’t taken me yet.”

His Death just chuckled.

He showered quickly and dressed in some spare clothes he kept tucked in the bottom of his weapons bag, a pair of well-worn blue jeans, white t-shirt, and dark red hoodie. Once clean and presentable, he checked on Evan, finding the kid still passed out. Wade placed Bob on the desk, and said, “Watch him for me, okay? If he wakes, let me know.”

Bob gave a nod, and Wade walked out the door and almost ran right into Peter. The surprise of it caused Wade to grab him around the neck and shove him into the wall. Peter raised his hands, and said, “Friend!”

Wade relaxed his grip on Peter’s throat, but didn’t let him go. He demanded, “What do you want?”

“Just to ask if you guys need anything from town!” Peter answered, his eyes dilated and breath coming a little fast. He shivered, and gasped, “Could you let me go now?”

“Sorry,” Wade said as he released him. “Guess I’m a little jumpy.”

“It’s okay,” Peter said, straightening his jacket as Gwen scurried up onto his shoulder. He reached up and plucked the daemon off his shoulder, and took a deep breath before clearing his throat, and asking, “So, uh, do you need anything?”

Wade nodded, and gestured towards the room. “The kid needs everything. All he’s got are the clothes on his back, and they’re pretty much shredded.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Uh…” He still looked like he was having trouble breathing.

Wade said, “I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh no, it’s okay.” Peter jingled his keys in a shaking right hand, and asked, “Do you want to come with me? Or would you rather wait until Evan’s ready to venture out?”

Wade closed his eyes, catching a glimpse of what Bob could see. Evan was stone still, his breath coming slow and deep. He looked at Peter, and said, “I think he’ll be okay for an hour or so. Besides, I’d like to check the security on the places you were talking about taking him before he goes there.”

“Yeah, of course.” Peter swallowed hard, and gestured towards the door leading into the main hall. “If you’re ready, we can go now.”

“Just let me lock up,” Wade said. Then he closed the suite door, and whispered, “Lasu nur la amikan kaj pacan pasu tra tiu pordo, kaj ĉiuj aliaj glaciiĝas ĝis justeco aŭ morto trovi ilin*.” Then he walked to the next door and did the same with Peter watching with a curious look on his face, a look that quickly turned to embarrassed surprise when Wade looked his direction, and Peter looked quickly away.

Wade pulled up his hood and walked towards the hall. And when Peter said, “What about your daemon?” Wade didn’t answer.

***

The town of Massena was about 20 miles away from the Stark Institute. The town was tiny compared to what Peter was used to, lacking skyscrapers or an ever present haze of smog. Then again, all cities seemed small compared to New Amsterdam. The sidewalks weren’t overrun with people and there was no such thing as traffic, really. Or at least, not what Peter would call traffic. It wasn’t until Peter came to the Stark Institute he even learned to drive. It wasn’t necessary to know in the city, and basically every other mode of transportation was faster for his needs.

Now, with weekly trips to Steve Rogers' small rental he shared with his lifelong friend Bucky, Peter had learned to drive and how to road rage. He never drove with other people in the car, let alone a stranger that made his heart literally race every time they touched. Thus, Peter kept both hands on the steering wheel and did not look in the direction of the extremely dangerous man who slouched in his passenger’s seat.

Gwen didn’t help. Peter knew a smug look on her face when he saw it, and she was radiating it now from her spot in the cushioned cupholder. She could feel the way his body thrilled at the merc’s touch, and Peter wished she couldn’t. Where Peter was very reserved, his daemon was far more adventurous. She liked the unexpected.

After driving in silence almost 10 minutes, Peter said, “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” the merc answered. Peter tensed, but then Wade laughed, and said, “I’m just joking, kid. Ask.”

Kid? Peter glanced in the mirror. He never thought of himself as a “kid”. He wasn’t a kid, dammit. Gwen snickered, and Peter gave her a dirty look before saying, “This might be kind of personal, but why isn’t your daemon with us?”

“We have a very long range,” Wade answered.

Peter knew that some people had very long ranges, but those were typically witches. So he asked, “Is that some kind of mutant thing? You are a mutant, right?”

“Not exactly,” he answered. They were approaching a small bridge, and the merc said, “Stop here.”

“We’re almost to town,” Peter said, though he was slowing.

“I told you, I need to check security where you’re taking Evan,” Wade answered as they stopped.

“Oh,” Peter said as he put the car in park and got out. He followed the merc to the small path that led down by the riverside, skidding on the loose rocks a little and jumping down to the flat of the path. His landing was solid, earning an impressed look from the mercenary--something that Peter didn’t want to read too much into.

“You’re pretty solid on your feet,” the merc said.

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, you could say that. I used to do a lot of free running when I lived in New Amsterdam. It was a lot of fun. Got good at landing solid and climbing walls with just my momentum.”

The merc smirked. “What they call you? Peter Parkour?”

“Spider Man, actually,” Peter answered with a laugh. He watched the merc study the struts for a while, before asking, “So why do they call you Deadpool?”

“It’s an old joke with the Brotherhood,” Wade answered nonchalantly. He continued, “When you’re chosen, you’re taken to this place called The World, where you’re put through every kind of hell imaginable. All the test subjects had this bet going on who was going to die next. The Deadpool. Since I was the last man standing, I won the pot and kept the name.”

Peter felt like he was going to be sick, and it must have showed on his face because the merc huffed a laugh and said, “Not as cute of a story as Spider Man, is it.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said before he could stop himself.

“Don’t be,” Wade answered as he pulled a knife out of his boot. Peter had to wonder just how many weapons were hidden under his bulky hoodie and thread-bare jeans. The merc didn’t even flinch when he swiped the blade across his left palm and started painting an eye onto the supports.

Peter wanted to ask what he was doing, but didn’t think he’d like the answer. He was still hung up on the meaning of Deadpool. Then he whispered, “Atenta**” and the symbol disappeared into the metal.

“Blood magic,” Gwen said softly. Peter said nothing. He didn’t utter a word until they were in town and sitting in front of Steve Roger’s home. It wasn’t a big place. Two bedrooms, one bath, cozy livingroom. Lots of windows.

Wade got out of the car, looking the building over. After a few seconds, he said, “This place is not going to be easy to defend.”

“I don’t think Captain Rogers has to worry about security,” Peter said. He walked to the back of the car and started removing his equipment. He paused, and said, “Speaking of which, I don’t think he knows you’re coming with me. So let me warn him.”

“Go for it. I’ll check the perimeter,” Wade said, then started walking towards the fence line and Peter went to the door.

Nurse Sharon Carter answered the door with a smile, her racoon daemon at her feet. She smiled and said, “They’re ready for you.” Then she looked towards the fence where Wade was doing a pullup, and asked, “Who’s your assistant?”

“That’s Wade,” Peter answered. “Just...That’s Wade.”

Inside, Bucky was seated by the window, his long hair combed back from his face, body leaning heavily to against the stump on his left side. The chair was plush and designed to move him around throughout the day, even encourage him to stand. According to Nurse Carter, he sometimes walked aimlessly around the livingroom, but it wasn’t a common occurrence. Usually he just found a corner and huddled down in the shadows.

Steve came out of the kitchen as Peter got his tripod in place. He had a near-frown on his face, and asked, “Why is Deadpool in my yard?”

“He wanted to check the security of the place before bringing Evan here,” Peter answered as Gwen climbed down to greet Peggy. Then added, “Before you can object, Tony has instructed me to take the kid everywhere, and he and Deadpool are a package deal.”

Peggy rubbed her head against Steve’s thigh, and Steve took a deep breath through his nose, his jaw tensing before releasing his breath, and saying, “Fine. It’s fine. I just don’t want Bucky becoming a sideshow.”

“I’d never allow that,” Peter said sincerely. He was almost finished setting up the photogram, and said, “I’ll make this quick and we’ll be on our way. Just take a seat so I can establish the baseline, and we’ll get this over.”

Steve sat in the chair on the other side of the window, Peggy at his side farthest from Bucky.

This was part of the experiment. Every week, Peter came to the apartment to record a photogram in Dust Light to check the levels of Dust surrounding Bucky. Steve and Peggy were a typical pair, and were the control for the experiment. Steve’s Dust concentration stayed the same, well within the normal range established by Lord Asriel over 100 years ago.

Bucky, on the other hand, barely registered on the scale. It had long been established that daemons were vital for a human to maintain healthy levels of Dust--at least in academic circles. The Magisterium denied any connection between Dust, daemons, and humans, and since so many people relied completely on the powers that be for their information, it was a widespread opinion that the connection didn’t exist.

For Peter, it was undeniable and proven. Just with Bucky, it was obvious that the lack of a daemon had rendered a man once famous for his quick wit and fighting spirit, into a vegetable. In the last four weeks since the beginning of the experiment, Bucky’s Dust levels had remained the same.

Tony was optimistic. He was developing what he hoped would be a sort of prosthetic daemon, which was codenamed “project ultron” in the system. It was ambitious, but more importantly, it could actually work. Dust seemed naturally attracted to Tony’s robotic inventions, and the more advanced, the more Dust gathered. The Ultron prototypes gathered as much Dust as a cat or dog, which was a far cry from a human or daemon, but the potential was there.

Taking the photogram was a simple process. A crystalline medium was housed in a black box designed to prevent ambient Dust from reaching the substrate. The lens was made of pure amber, and once the shutter was opened, Peter started a visible light camera to record all activities in the room that might account for any variants in the photogram.

Usually, he and Steve talked back and forth about photography. Steve was an artist, something that few knew. He was very talented, and if you were very lucky, he might show you his sketchbook. It wasn’t a surprise that most of his sketches were of Bucky, mostly back when they were younger. Many depicted the two of them with their daemons, and it was obvious that those were the ones that Steve lingered on the most. Lately, Peter noticed that Tony had become a regular in Steve’s drawings, too.

Once finished with the photogram, Peter said goodbye to Nurse Carter and Steve, and headed out to the car. Wade never came into the house, and was sitting in the vehicle. For a moment, Peter thought Wade was talking on a cellphone, but as he got closer he could see that neither of the merc’s hands were occupied by any type of communication device. As soon as Peter opened the back hatch of the sedan, Wade fell silent.

They went to the department store to pick up supplies for Evan. Wade walked through the clothing, throwing in shirts and pants in various sizes and styles, as well as shoes, socks, underwear, pajamas, and toiletries. It was a quick trip, and Peter figured that they would come back again once they’d established Evan’s correct size.

Peter half expected there to be a comment from someone in the store about Wade’s lack of daemon, but no one said a word. Then again, with all the people with insect daemons and other small creatures, it probably wasn’t as obvious to someone who didn’t know that Wade had left his daemon at home.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they got back to Stark Institute, and Peter assisted bringing the many bags of items up to Wade and Evan’s suite, where Wade touched the door and said, “Amiko***,” before going inside.

Evan was still asleep, and didn’t stir when Wade and Peter came into the room. Bob fluttered clumsily up to Wade’s shoulder and nuzzled the merc’s cheek. Peter smiled and Gwen made a soft, “Aww” sound that Peter hoped like hell Wade didn’t hear.

“Thanks for doing this,” Wade said.

Peter shrugged. “It’s nothing. If you need a ride to town, just--”

“I meant what you’re doing for Evan,” Wade clarified. “I really feel like you’re one of the really good guys.”

“Oh,” Peter said, feeling his face heat up. “Well, thanks. I like to think I am.” Then he added, “You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be.”

Wade chuckled, and said, “Yeah, well, at least I made a good impression.”

Then, before he could think about it, Peter held out his hand and Wade immediately shook it. Instantly, Peter was flooded with warmth that started at the meeting of their palms and went through him like the sun breaking across a dark plain at the first light of day. Peter felt himself being drawn closer to the merc, like a victim of gravity, unable to deny the pull.

“You okay, kid?” Wade said, his brow scrunched.

Peter shook his head and let go. “Just, uh… Tired. I think I’m a little tired. From driving.”

“I kinda need my beauty rest too,” Wade said with a smirk.

Peter’s eyes involuntarily flicked down to Wade’s scarred lips, and Peter turned around, and said, “Yeah, you do that. See ya later.”

And if Peter left a little fast, that was his business. He moved quickly through the halls, going down to the laboratory, completely bypassing Tony and Banner, and ignoring Thor as he sprinted towards the dark room.

Peter closed the door to the dark room, and took few deep breaths while counting to try to decompress before moving again. His skin was tingling where Wade had touched him, and the feeling of bliss was almost overwhelming. Sweat poured from his temples, his hands shook as he ran them back through his hair. His body gave a shudder, and he slid down the door.

Gwen stood on top of his hand and said, "That was unexpected."

His head fell back against the door with a thump. "Understatement."

"It felt kinda good," Gwen said shyly.

Peter looked at her. "Not another word."

"It's true, though," Gwen added.

Peter hung his head. "It's not logical. It's not normal." 

"Oh, come on Pete," Gwen said with exasperation. "You have a type. The big, rough, mysterious type. Like Eddie."

Peter tensed at the name, and said, "Wade isn't Eddie. I...I don't know what Wade is. And I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want to develop the photogram and go take a shower."

"Cold shower," Gwen added with a giggle.

Without further discussion, Peter went to work preparing the chemicals and dialing in the crystals. It was tedious work, but it was work Peter enjoyed. He found the methodology to be relaxing. Calming. His mind was gloriously blank but for the process. It was practically meditation.

It was predictable.

Or at least, it should be predictable.

Except, this time, the Dust Light photogram had a strange blob of Dust that moved through the rendering. A blob of Dust so intense and bright that it went off the Asriel scale.

A blob, that when compared to the visible light recording, coincided with Wade walking past the window.

Chapter Text

Midnight found Wade and Evan in the large kitchen by the banquet hall cafeteria. Evan was seated on the edge of a prep table, nibbling half-heartedly on a baby carrot while Wade searched one of the large walk-in coolers for something more substantial.

Wade forced Evan to get out of bed and come down to the kitchen, and Evan was not happy about it. The kid fought against the idea of leaving the room. Then Wade said, “Look, kid. I’m not your babysitter and I’m not your nanny. I’m your bodyguard. If you want to eat, you’re going to walk to the kitchen with me. But you’re not going anywhere until you don’t smell like a foot.”

Evan wanted to dig in his heels, but Celestia said, “He’s right, Evan. You need to eat.”

Between Celestia and Wade, Evan managed to take a shower and put on clean clothes. He was lethargic, despite the sleep. He felt numb and all he wanted to do was hide under a blanket until he didn’t feel so empty.  And part of him, at least Celestia, was thankful for Wade’s insistence that he get up and move around.

Now, Wade was at the industrial-size griddle making grilled cheese sandwiches, and despite his reluctance to leave the room, the scent of the sandwiches was making his stomach growl. In addition to cooking, Wade was singing “Stuck in the Middle with You” and using his spatula to keep rhythm. Every now and then, Bob pecked on the stainless steel in time with Wade.

Wade presented him with a plate of grilled cheese and a bowl of lightly seasoned tomato soup. Evan took a reluctant sip of soup and a small bite of sandwich before enthusiastically devouring both. Wade made a second sandwich, and as Evan was about to eat it, the door to the kitchen opened and Thor walked in with Loki at his side.

Thor beamed a smile and said, “Looks as if I am not the only one seeking late night sustenance. What is that glorious scent?”

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” Wade answered. “There’s more soup if you want.”

“That would be excellent,” Thor said enthusiastically. He sat on the barstool and Loki flopped down at his feet, looking thoroughly disinterested in the world. Wade handed Thor a bowl of soup and commenced to making a couple more grilled cheese sandwiches. Thor drank his soup, and said, “This quite good, Sir Deadpool.”

“Thanks,” Wade said. He hesitated a moment, then said, “It’s actually Wade. I’d prefer not to use my codename while here.”

“Understandable, Sir Wade,” Thor said with a nod. He looked at Evan, and asked, “Do you have a preference of a name, young sir?”

Evan looked at Wade before saying, “Evan?”

Thor nodded. “It is a pleasant name.”

Evan shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich. Wade turned off the grill and handed Thor a stack of grilled cheese before sitting down to eat his own food. For a while, all was silent in the kitchen, except for slurping and chewing, and Loki’s carrot crunching. The direwolf had communicated through Celestia that she wanted carrots.

“So what is your expertise, Thor?” Wade asked, breaking the silence. “Everyone else I’ve figured out, mostly. But you’re the only question mark.”

Thor smiled a big, toothy smile. “I have led several expeditions for Sir Stark into Svalbard. I am here learning to use some of the detection equipment to set up a monitoring network in the far north.”

“Interesting,” Wade said, taking a thoughtful bite. “You’re from Norroway, right?”

“Yes!” Thor said brightly. “How could you tell?”

“The accent. Must be from a small village, right? Somewhere in the north, maybe?” Wade asked.

“Yes,” Thor answered. “A very small town.”

Wade nodded. “I spent some time in the north there. What town?”

Thors started to answer, “Twas a very isolated pla--”

“Nord-Fugløya,” answered Loki, looking Wade in the eyes. “It’s on an island in the county of Troms, and is home to the Karlsøy Dust Observatory.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Wade said with a smirk. “I stayed in Stor Skorøya.”

“Charming,” Loki responded. Then she looked at Thor and said, “If your hunger is satisfied, I am ready to rest.”

Evan looked to Wade, slightly confused. It was very unusual for daemons to speak directly to a human who wasn’t their own. Let alone speak to their human in the way that Loki did. It made Evan feel nervous, and he clutched Celestia a little tighter.

Thor nodded at his daemon, and walked to the industrial dishwasher, and placed his bowl and spoon on the rack. Then he turned to Wade, and said, “Thanks for the soup and cheese laden bread. It was most satisfying.”

“Thanks for the carrots,” Loki said to Celestia, though the wolf’s eyes flicked up to Evan. Then she nudged Thor’s leg, and the two left the kitchen.

After Evan was sure that the two were gone, he looked at Wade and said, “His daemon… She…”

“Yeah,” Wade said. He cradled Bob in the crook of his arm, and said, “It’s unusual. Very unusual. I’ve had to talk to daemons before, but never while their human was conscious.” He paused a moment, then said, “Just to be on the safe side, Thor is off the list of trusted individuals.”

Evan ate the last bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before asking, “Is there a library here?”

Wade shrugged. “Probably? It is a school. Kind of. There’s probably something like a library here. Why? Needing some reading material?”

“I’d like to know why the device I have is so important,” Evan answered. “I want to know why someone would kill to get it.”

“That’s something I’d like to know, too, kid,” Wade said with a nod. Then Wade picked up his empty plate, and said, “Come on. We need to clean up.”

***

Peter’s first instinct upon seeing the result of the photogram was to run to Tony Stark and tell him everything he found. It took restraint, but Peter suppressed that instinct in favor of gathering more evidence. Deadpool’s Dust level might be extraordinary, but an isolated occurrence doesn’t mean anything. Not for a scientist. Peter needed to replicate the result, and more importantly, he needed to know more about Dust phenomena.

It was going on 1a.m., and Peter was surrounded by dusty old books, going down his list of possible references to high Dust level occurrences. So far, nothing in the research suggested that Wade’s levels were even possible. The closest indication was a note left in the margin of one of Lord Asriel’s assistant’s notebooks, and all it said was that in theory Angels and other celestial beings would be made of Dust. However, that theory was never tested, despite Lord Asriel’s assertion that he met angels.

With eyes feeling grainy and not finding anything of value, Peter was ready to call it an evening when the library door opened and he heard the now familiar voice of Wade say, “It’s been awhile since I’ve been in a place like this. Last time, they had a thing called a Card Catalogue. But they probably have something on a computer like that, right? I mean…”

Peter got up the moment he heard the voice, and said from across the room, “You need some help?”

Wade looked around the nearest shelf, and said, “Does anyone ever sleep in this place?”

“Dust researchers like to do it in the dark,” Peter said, with Gwen letting out a snicker from his pocket. He gestured towards the computers, and said, “I can get you logged into the system. We don’t have many books for entertainment here, though.”

“We’re actually looking for information about this,” Wade said as he took the alethiometer out of his pocket.

Peter let out an involuntary, “Oh my god.” He knew that he probably looked like a man mid-orgasm, but he couldn’t help it. He looked up at Wade then to Evan, and asked, “May I?”

Wade handed the device to him, and Peter felt his heart start pounding like it was going to burst out of his ribs. He could not believe he was holding an actual alethiometer. He read about them, knew about their destruction, knew that only two remained in the entire world. Or at least, until the Magisterium confiscated them a few years back. The fact that this exists, that he could touch it, made Peter feel a little weak in the knees.

It was heavier than he thought such a small device would be. Then again, it was made of gold and adamantium, the inner works lined with a vibranium layer. Unlike all those that he had seen in textbooks, the symbols on the outside were hieroglyphs. And inside, the 36 characters on the face were in the style of ancient egypt.

“This is incredible,” Peter said softly, as if speaking in a normal voice would make the device vanish from his hand. Then he realized that both Evan and Wade were staring at him, Evan with expectation, Wade with a hint of amusement. Peter cleared his throat, and said, “I, uh. Just, come with me. I don’t need to catalogue to find these books.”

Peter led them to the back of the library where there was a secured gate, behind which were several bookcases. As he entered his security code, Peter said, “Books on Alethiometers are restricted by the Magisterium, so to appease the assholes in charge, they have to be kept secured. Not to mention that most of these books are old as fu-- really old.”

The three walked into the restricted section, and Wade asked, “Anyone else feel like they’re at Hogwarts?”

“I’m not familiar with that,” Peter said.

Evan just looked confused.

Wade sighed, and said, “Nevermind.” While Peter searched, Wade looked at the leather-bound tomes, his eyes trailing along their spines, studying the titles. Then he noticed one that said, The Complete History of the God-King En Sabah Nur and the Time of Apocalypse as translated from the Text of Akkaba.

“Find something interesting?” Peter asked from beside the merc.

“You ever hear of En Sabah Nur?” Wade asked in answer, causing Evan to look his direction.

Peter shrugged. “Not really? I think he was a pharaoh or something like that.”

“Why would a book about a pharaoh be in the restricted section,” Wade said, not as a question. He reached towards the book, and mimicking Peter, said, “May I?”

“Go ahead,” Peter said, confused why the mercenary would be interested in a book about a long dead ruler. Then again, Wade was right. Why would a book about a dead guy be restricted?

Peter had the books he needed, and they left the restricted section, returning to Peter’s cluttered table. Gwen, Celestia, and Bob curled up together at one side of the table, with Gwen sitting on top of Celestia’s head between her long ears, while the humans gathered with their books with the alethiometer laying on the table as a focal point.

The hours went by fast while Peter explained alethiometry to Evan. He went over the symbols on the dial, the purpose of the four hands on the face, and the general way that people used the device. It wasn’t a divining device, as Evan had thought. It was meant to tell the truth. It could not predict the future, but it could give information.

When Evan received the device, the three hands were settled on the Anchor, the Helm, and the Infant, while the hand swung back and forth between the Hourglass and the Angel. According to Peter, understanding the meaning of the symbols required a lot of practice and patience. If Evan wanted to learn how to use an alethiometer, it would take years to gather the understanding required to do so.

“I thought Lord Asriel’s kid could read it naturally?” Wade said, looking up from his reading.

Peter shrugged. “As far as I know, the story of Lyra Belacqua is just that: a story. And if it was ever anything else, there’s no evidence.”

Evan said, “I saw something in my head last night, before Wade saved me. I saw a man in red with a creature of light and a creature of darkness while holding the alethiometer.”

“Okay,” Peter said as he pushed his book aside. “What were you thinking at the time?”

“I was wondering how I was going to survive the night,” Evan answered.

Peter picked up the device and asked, “Were the hands in these locations?”

Evan nodded. “I’ve never moved them.”

Peter picked up his books, flipping to the pages for each symbol. “Well, it could be that the hands were in the right position to answer that question. The tree represents home, and Helm represents protection. The infant, most obviously, represents a child. In a way, your question was already framed on the alethiometer. Your home--the tree--was under attack, and you--the infant--wanted to know who or what would protect you--the helm. And the response…” Peter glanced at Wade, and said to Evan, “It makes sense, as well, since the angel very accurately represents Wade in the third tier meaning of ‘disobedience’, and his profession, by definition, brings death and finality, which is the hourglass.”

Wade nodded, and said, “Pretty accurate assessment.”

Evan asked, “Does that mean I have a natural ability to read this thing?”

“Not necessarily.” Peter picked up the device, and said, “It could be that you were in the correct emotional state of mind to answer the question that was framed. Maybe the person who gave this to you knew that at some point you would need to have that question answered.”

Wade looked down at his book, at the drawing of En Sabah Nur holding something that looked like a spear in one hand and something that was no doubt an alethiometer in the other, then looked at Evan and said, "I wouldn't rule out the possibility that you can learn."

Peter nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Actually, children learn it much easier than adults."

“If I wanted to ask a question, how would I ‘frame’ it?” Evan asked.

“According to this,” Peter said as he flipped a few pages back. “The symbols have an innate meaning, but a lot of alethiometry comes from what the user is feeling. What you feel when you look at the symbols, because in the end it is your feelings that will determine what answer is received.”

Evan scrunched his brow. “Huh?”

“Trust your gut,” Wade translated.

Evan nodded and studied the face of the alethiometer, eyes roaming over the symbols, before asking, “What does it have to do with Dust?”

Peter brightened. “I’m actually thrilled you asked that.” Peter dug under the stack of papers on the table to find his tablet as he spoke. “Dust kind of makes everything, in a way. Or at least, it makes things intelligent. It makes things sort of be alive. It’s been called the Soul of the Universe, and because of special lenses and equipment, we can actually see it.”

Evan scooted closer so he could watch the Dust light video that Peter played. It was a copy of one of the first photograms taken by Lord Asriel during his research time on Svalbard. Peter pointed out how the Dust flowed through the individual’s daemon and into the human. “Daemons channel Dust to us, and it is what makes us who we are and what we are.”

“You sound almost religious about it,” Wade snarked.

“It’s science,” Peter responded back. “Religion requires faith. Science requires proof, and I have observed Dust in action. I’ve seen it gather on newly created artificial intelligence apparatuses. I’ve seen the result of a human losing their daemon through oblation or intercision. Dust is as vital as air.”

Wade nodded, and said, “I’d say our daemons are vital. Dust is just a particle without them.”

“Absolutely,” Peter said, hand going out to stroke the top of Gwen’s head. Gwen looked up at him, giving him a look that communicated a very specific thought. Peter cleared his throat, and asked, “Have you ever seen your Dust signature?”

“Me?” Wade said. “No.”

“Well, um…” Peter cleared his throat again, feeling his face heating up. “I kind of got your Dust in a photogram today.” Though it was almost imperceptible, Peter knew that this revelation did not make the merc happy at all. His facial expression didn’t change, but his eyes seemed to darken. Peter hurried to say, “It was an accident, I swear. You just happened to walk by the windows when the shutter was open.”

“Oh,” Wade said, his eyes still a little menacing. There was a beat of silence that felt like a lifetime before he closed the book in his lap and slouched back in his seat in a mock form of relaxation with his eyes locked on Peter. “I’d like to see what my Dust looks like. I’m sure it’s very interesting.”

Peter swallowed hard, and said, “It’s in my laboratory. The photogram.”

“Can we look at it tomorrow?” Evan said. He looked at Wade and said, “I’m really tired.”

Wade finally broke eye contact with Peter, and said, “Yeah, kid. It’s getting early.”

“I, uh, I’ll take care of the books,” Peter said. “You guys can go ahead and head to bed. I-I need to do some more work anyway.”

“You’re a sport,” Wade said as he stood. He scooted his and Evan’s chairs back under the table and scooped up Bob. Then the two left without another word.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as the library doors closed, immediately picking up Gwen and holding her against his neck. He was shaking and felt slightly terrified by the intensity of Wade’s eyes. The sensation was the exact opposite of what he felt when the merc touched him.

“I think he’s going to murder me,” Peter said, his voice shaking.

Gwen shook her head. “No, Peter. He was scared.”

“He was scared?” Peter almost shouted. Then he whispered, “What makes you think he was scared?”

“Bob,” Gwen answered. “Bob was shaking.” She was quiet a moment before adding, “I think something really bad happened to them.”

Peter sank down in one of the chairs. He said, “I don’t know if I want to know.”

“Still, they must trust us an awful lot,” Gwen said.

“Why do you say that?” Peter asked.

Gwen pointed to the table, and said, “They left the alethiometer.”

“Shit!” Peter gasped, picking up the device. He left the lights on and books scattered on the table, and ran out the door, hoping he would catch up to Wade and Evan before they reached their door. Instead, he arrived on their landing just as the door closed, and Peter hesitated at the end of the hall, not really wanting to knock on the door.

Then he nearly jumped out of his skin when Wade’s voice said from mere inches behind him, “Are we going to have a problem, Peter?”

Peter clutched his heart and spun around. He gasped out, “No! No. I. I just. I… Here!” He practically flung the alethiometer at Wade, who caught it without trouble. “You left that. I didn’t want to wait to give it back.”

Wade tucked it into his pants pocket, and took a step closer. Peter wanted to back away, but he felt glued to the spot. Even in the dark, Wade’s eyes were felt. It made Peter’s heart pound. Then the merc stepped past him with a softly spoken, “Goodnight, Peter.”

The door closed, and Peter decided that he really did need that cold shower.

***

Once it was clear that Peter was not going to return, Loki trotted into the library, checking to make sure she was past the security cameras before shapeshifting into her human form and sauntering over to the table where Peter left his reading materials.

Thor approached from behind and flung his coat over her shoulders. Loki smirked and said, “Since when do you mind my nakedness, Odinson?”

Thor sat on the edge of the table. “A little modesty is necessary, Loki.”

“Shall I blindfold you when next we fuck?” she said with a smirk, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What were they reading?” Thor asked, ignoring her question and glancing over the pile of papers and books.

Loki cocked an eyebrow and brushed back her raven-black hair. “Books on alethiometry, books about Dust. Looks like Mr. Parker has some interest in rare phenomena.” Then she gave Thor a coy smile and added, “But dearest Deadpool seems much more interested in En Sabah Nur.”

She opened the book to a page the merc had marked with a piece of paper, the image of En Sabah Nur. She asked, “Now tell me, does that not look like our young friend?”

Thor nodded. “Then it is true. Someone has revived him.”

Loki perched a hip on the edge of the table as she flipped through the pages of the tome. She stopped on a page towards the back in a section of Prayers and Supplications, and read aloud, “Great and Powerful was he who rules The World, and who from the World brings forth many wonders and works that elevate the world of Humanity. And greater still, the Architect who created the god-king. All glory be to the Architect, all honor be to En Sabah Nur.” Loki sighed, and said, “They never wrote such lovely things about me.”

“Few pray to the Goddess of Lies,” Thor said with a smile.

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “Yet I’ve put you on your knees.”

Thor laughed heartily. “Aye, you have.” Then he sobered, and said, “I think we should intervene now rather than wait. We may be bringing about destruction and death for this world by letting the boy learn of Dust and magic.”

“Or we could be creating what the All Father intended when he gave En Sabah Nur the World,” Loki countered. “We must be patient, Odinson. Evan is young. He has suffered much. Many who suffer wish only to end the suffering for others. Not all monsters started as monsters. And there is no proof that he cannot be better than what came before.”

“You speak as from experience,” Thor said solemnly.

Loki’s human form vanished into the marked blue skin of the Jotun, her red eyes locked with Thor’s as she whispered, “Am I not the monster parents tell their children about at night?”

Thor kissed her cold, blue lips and said, “No. You are not.” He smiled.  “You are right. We will be patient and observe young Evan. Perhaps among these people, he will find a path that leads to honor and glory, without creating a new age of Apocalypse.”

“I love it when you see things my way,” Loki said with a quick peck on his stubbled cheek. Then she put the book back on the table. “Either way, we were instructed not to interfere unless it was absolutely necessary.”

Thor nodded, and said, “Perhaps it would be best if you behaved as a daemon rather than engaging everyone as you are wont to do.”

Loki grinned and flung Thor’s coat back at him, and said, “But what’s the fun in that?”

Thor sighed, and said, “You are impossible.”

“Tis my best quality,” she responded, then her visage rippled and she transformed back into a direwolf, and Thor followed her out of the library.

Chapter Text

After a night of very little sleep and waking at the slightest sound, Peter gave up on rest around 7 a.m. and went down to his laboratory to get the photogram digitized and to attempt to prepare himself for what kind of reaction it might create for Wade. His preparation involved making coffee and checking that the bear mace in his desk drawer was still in date. He'd bought it after Banner went a little feral a few months back because Jimmy the gardener poked him with a pitchfork.

Jimmy was kind of an asshole.

Gwen was lethargic, and snuggled down into the pocket of Peter's labcoat with her chin propped on the lip of his pocket protector. She was half the reason Peter couldn't sleep, because instead of being frightened of the assassin living across the hall, she was focused on the fact that Wade was a giant enigma that she wanted to solve. She wanted Peter to find out why he was scared of photograms. Normally, she would interrogate his daemon, but Bob wasn't talking despite the fact that his human seldom shut up.

While the coffee brewed, Peter started up the projection equipment and his computer to make a digital copy of the photogram. Digitizing a photogram was not a fast process, at least not until Peter Parker started working with them. The system he used was of his own making, and Tony was helping him file the patent for the technology.

He was about to start the process when his lab door opened. Peter spun on high alert, expecting to see Wade. Instead, he saw Tony carrying a large box. He looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow, and said, "A tad jumpy?"

Peter let out a breath, and said, "Yeah. I didn't get much sleep last night."

Tony laughed, and set the box on Peter's desk as Pepper jumped up into Peter's chair. Gwen jumped from Peter's pocket onto the soft pillow of Pepper's tail, and the two started conversing softly as their humans unpacked Tony's box. It was full of textbooks with names like Theological Literature, Experimental Theology, History of Theology, and the oddballs of the group, Math and Composition.

"These are Magisterium approved textbooks. I figured you might need a little guidance on how to tutor a kid, so here you go." Tony frowned at the stack, then looked at Peter.

Peter picked up the course study entitled Experimental Theology. It was a very thin volume, and flipping through the book, Peter knew there was very little science to be found inside the pages. He looked at Tony. "Am I seriously supposed to teach Evan this crap?"

"The math and composition books are alright, but the rest might as well be kindling," Tony answered as he picked up the History of Theology book. "But I wouldn't put it past the Department of Education to figure out how to turn 1+1 into some kind of propaganda."

Peter frowned.

"How was yesterday, by the way?" Tony asked as he pulled a granola bar out of his satchel. "I know you seemed less than enthused when we spoke."

Peter's eyes brightened, and he gasped, "I got to hold the alethiometer last night. I held it. With my hands. And it's the real fucking deal, Tony. Wade and Evan came down to the library with it, and actually handed it over to me. And Evan might be an adept with it. Might. I don't know. We read everything we could find about alethiometry last night."

Tony's face was stone serious. "That would explain the pile of rare books and printouts I found in the library this morning."

Peter's face burned, and he said, "Oh. That. I…"

"Next time, I swear you are cleaning Banner's toilet for a month, Parker." Tony sighed, then said, "I have something that will actually be useful for you." Tony put his satchel on the desk and removed a final book, which he handed to Peter.

It wasn't a textbook; it was a three ring binder filled with hand-written pages. The top page said, A Complete Study on Alethiometry. After reading just a few pages, it was clear that this was a How-To manual for the alethiometer. Where the books from the restricted section had information, this was a detailed analysis of the operation of the device, down to exercises to hone skills.

"This is incredible," Peter said as he turned through the pages. "Who wrote this?"

"Charles Xavier," Tony answered, his tone suggesting the name should mean something.

Peter's brow scrunched. "Who?"

"You kids, I swear." Tony sat on the edge of Peter's desk and said, "Charles Xavier was an advisor for Erik Lensherr. For reasons not entirely clear but probably having to do with politics, he ended up in Bolvangar about the same time the alethiometers from Jordan and Cambridge were confiscated. He was only there for a short time before he was rescued and brought to a very safe haven."

Tony looked at Peter and Peter stared at Tony until the revelation sank in. His eyes went wide. "You mean he's here? This ex-buddy of the chancellor, is here."

"You really are top of your class, Peter," Tony said. "He was my first choice to handle Evan, but he isn't exactly in professor-mode. In fact, he really shouldn't be around children. Or anyone. At all."

Peter's eyes widened further. "Oh my god, it's Chuck isn't it."

Tony neither confirmed, nor denied, but might as well have said "yes" with the look on his face. All Peter could think about was the stoner who lived primarily in a brown van that reeked of weed and patchouli, with the greasy, unkempt hair and a grumpy pygmy gorilla daemon named Hank. Peter only talked to him once, and that was back when Peter first got his internship. He was out exploring the grounds, and found Chuck and Jimmy the gardener smoking a joint behind the greenhouse. Chuck smiled at him and asked if Peter wanted a toke.

Peter declined, especially after seeing the almost feral look in Jimmy's eyes, and his wolverine daemon snarled at Gwen. And while Peter never spoke to Chuck again, he'd encountered Jimmy plenty of times. Jimmy was shorter than Peter, but burly and rough looking, and was way too enthusiastic with his garden shears.

Tony huffed a laugh and said, "I can't believe there's an alethiometer in my building, and my intern is the first to touch it."

"It's heavy, and possibly really fucking old. Older than the stuff pictured in textbooks," Peter said as he continued skimming the alethiometry book. "The symbols look Egyptian, but the craftsmanship is beyond belief. I wish I had something else to compare it to."

"Do you think you can getc pictures of it?" Tony asked.

Peter huffed a laugh. "I probably could have last night, considering they left it in the library."

Tony's eyes went wide. "They left it in the library?"

"Yeah, and I returned it." Peter leaned against the desk, and said, "I think Wade was testing me."

"Wade is Deadpool, right?" Tony asked.

Peter nodded. "He… He's hard to figure out. One minute, he's nothing but jokes, and the next I'm afraid he's going to murder me in my sleep. Then there's this weird thing that happens when he touches me…" Peter winced. "That came out so wrong."

"Touches you?" Tony said, eyebrow raised. "Uh, how is he touching you?"

Peter sighed. "Handshakes, Tony. Handshakes. But it gives me this feeling. I can't even describe it without resorting to poetry." He paused, eyes coming to rest on the photogram projector, suddenly thinking that maybe it had something to do with Wade's extraordinary levels of Dust.

At least, he thought he was only thinking that. Instead, the words came pouring out of his mouth because his sleep-addled brain couldn't manage an internal monologue. Tony's eyebrows went up to his hairline. "What do you mean 'extraordinary levels of Dust'?"

"Nothing?" Peter tried, but at Tony's pointed look, he sighed. "He ended up in the background of the photogram yesterday, and his Dust level is literally off the chart."

"Show me," Tony said, his tone allowing for no dissent.

Except Peter did dissent. "I can't do that. Not unless he gives me permission."

Tony's brow scrunched. "What? Permission? Peter, if what you're saying is true, this needs to be studied."

"He's a person, Tony," Peter said. "He has the right to choose who sees his Dust. Unless he gives his permission, I'm going to destroy the photogram."

Tony looked like he was about to blow an artery. "Peter, I admire your integrity, but-"

"I'm not backing down on this," Peter said sternly. "You can withdraw my grant and send me back to New Amsterdam if you want, but I'm not going to do anything without getting Wade's permission. It's unethical."

Tony stared at him with that Zen stare that makes shareholders quake, but Peter did not flinch. After a moment, Tony nodded, and said, "Fine. But as soon as you know one way or the other, let me know. And get some fucking sleep, Parker."

Tony left with Pepper following behind.

"I'm not making friends today." Peter sighed and picked up Gwen, then headed to the door with the intention of going up to Wade's door and pleading his case, but didn't make it that far, because Wade was standing in the hall. Peter jumped back in surprise, and said, "Wade! I was just-"

"I know." Wade said, his voice calm. "I heard you talking to Tony."

Peter felt his stomach starting to churn. "What all did you hear?"

Wade smirked, and said, "Enough to know where you stand." He huffed a laugh. "I didn't think there was such thing as an ethical scientist, but you seem to prove me wrong." He smiled, and said, "Thanks."

There were so many questions Peter wanted to ask, but none more important as Why do you have such a bad opinion of scientists? Instead of asking anything, Peter said, "I meant what I said. Unless you give me permission, I will destroy the photogram."

"You don't have to do that," Wade said. He rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. "Go ahead. Do whatever you want. It's just a Dust picture."

Peter wanted to shout It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! Don't you realize how singular you are? Don't you get that someone like you shouldn't exist? That nothing like you has ever been recorded! That seeing your Dust is the single most incredible moment of my life and I'm about to burst from it!

Instead, he said, "I'd still like to show you."

"Some other time, okay?" Wade said. "I just wanted to talk to you about figuring out a schedule for Evan. I'm no expert on child psychology, but I think he needs to keep occupied. Keep moving. Otherwise..."

"I agree. I mean, I don't know exactly what happened," Peter said with a shrug. "But I know after my parents died, the one thing that really helped me was having some sort of continuity. My aunt and uncle didn't let me sit still."

"What kind of activites do you have around here?" he asked with a wave of his hand. "I mean, like stuff that lets a kid run and shit like that."

"There's basketball and tennis courts," Peter said. He thought for a minute, and said, "I'll talk to a few people around the campus, see what we can come up with."

"I'd appreciate that," Wade said, and Peter knew that the sentiment was genuine. "Kid needs more than just books, right?"

"Oh! That reminds me..." Peter motioned for him to come into his laboratory, but Wade stayed out in the hall. It struck Peter as strange, and he filed that information away for later pondering. He picked up the composition and math books, and returned to the hall. "I'll give you these for Evan to look over. I have some things to do here in the lab, but I should be free around one o'clock or so. If you want to meet up in the cafeteria and go over the books to figure out where Evan is as far as the courses go. And later on, we can talk about alethiometry."

Wade nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Evan's still sleeping right now anyway." Then he tucked the books under an arm, and said, "I'll let you get back to work. I don't want to take up any more of your time than I have to."

"Really, it's okay," Peter said, smiling.

Wade was smiling too. "I'll see you later, Peter."

As soon as Wade was out of sight, Gwen rushed up to Peter's shoulder and said, "You were wrong about not making friends today."

"I guess I was," Peter said, a smile on his face as he walked back into his lab.

***

Getting Evan to leave the room wasn't as big of a chore as it was the night before. He woke a little before noon, and immediately took a shower. By one o'clock, he was hungry. Celestia took the form of an owl and playfully swooped at Bob as Wade and Evan made their way to the cafeteria where Peter was sitting at a table off to one side of what used to be a banquet hall. There were a few others in the room, mostly students who were there for college credit.

Peter was reading the teacher's edition of the math book, his black-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose, a fork full of noodles in one hand and a pen in the other. Wade had the strong urge to walk over to the table and push his glasses up to their proper place, but he restrained himself and guided Evan to the service counter.

The girl behind the hot-table looked a little surprised to see Wade and Evan. She was wearing a hairnet and white apron over her Universidad de San Juan t-shirt. After a moment, she smiled and said with a thick Hispania Nova accent, "What can I get for you today?"

"What are you serving?" Wade asked.

She smiled, and said, "Fettuccine alfredo or meatball sub-sandwiches."

Evan opted for the noodles; Wade got a meatball sub with a side of alfredo. As the girl plated their food, she asked, "Are you a guest scholar?"

Wade hadn't thought too much about his cover for being here. He didn't think he was going to be at the Institute more than a few hours until he found out Cluster wasn't there. But he was good at thinking on his feet. "We're from École Polytechnique de Montréal to learn more about applied uses of arch reactor technology."

She handed them their food, and asked, "Is this your son?"

Evan looked up at Wade, and Wade said, "I'm his guardian while he studies abroad."

"Que bueno!" she said, not even batting an eyelash at the implication that Evan was a child genius. To Evan, said, "I hope you enjoy your stay."

As they walked to Peter's table, Evan quietly asked, "What is an arc reactor?"

"I have no idea," Wade answered. "I just read it on one of the Institute's brochures while you were sleeping."

Peter was still holding the same forkful of noodles when Wade and Evan sat down. He looked up and scooted his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he said to Evan, "Did you get plenty of rest?"

Evan nodded and commenced to eating as Celestia joined Bob and Gwen in the chair between him and Peter. Bob settled into a vigorous grooming session administered by Gwen. She put her tiny paws to work smoothing out his ruffled feathers, starting at the crown of his head and moving backwards. Celestia joined in the preening and Bob returned the favor for her, though the owl kept shaking her feathers and creating more of a mess just for the fun of it.

Evan watched the daemons as Wade and Peter went over the potential itinerary. The first priority was figuring out Evan's academic level. Peter didn't want to be teaching something too advanced or anything that would bore the boy. So he printed out an end of the year exam for both math and reading, as well as a fill-in-the-blank map for geography. The only tests Peter could find for history or literature were so full of Magisterium jargon and propaganda, he decided it would be best to come up with his own course using pre-Lensherr books.

Peter managed to find a couple non-academic activities for Evan. Jessica Drew, another physicist and a good friend of Peter's, said she would love to have Evan join her morning workout. Thor very enthusiastically offered to give Evan guitar lessons a few times a week. Janet van Dyne said she would be glad to have Evan assist her in the 3-D model lab, which was basically a grown-up, extremely detailed version of Legos used to make miniatures of Tony's (and other's) inventions.

"Does all that sound good to you?" Wade asked.

"Sure," Evan said softly.

Peter said in a softer voice, "As for alethiometry, I figure that would be best worked on in your suite. I found a pretty detailed how-to book, and it seems that comfort is the most important factor in the process."

Evan perked up a little at that. He asked, "Why do I have to do all the other stuff? I don't care about morning runs or math or guitar. Those won't tell me why my family was killed."

Peter didn't know what to say to that, and was about to mumbled through something when Wade said, "You grew up in a witch coven. You saw how hard they worked to learn their magic, and you know that they learn all subjects, not just spellcraft, right?"

Evan frowned, but nodded.

"And why do you think they did that?" Wade asked.

"Because they need to know more than just magic," Evan said. Then his eyes shimmered as he said, "Lady Margaret told me that."

Wade put a hand on the boy's shoulder, and said, "Lady Margaret was a smart lady."

Evan nodded as tears fell down his face. Wade pulled him into a one-armed hug, and Evan buried his face into Wade's side and silently cried while Bob and Gwen comforted Celestia. It took a few minutes for Evan to sit up straight again, and when he did, he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"For crying? You don't ever have to apologize for that, kid," Wade said as he handed Evan a napkin to dry his face. "Everybody cries. Hell, I cry. Often. And for no reason."

Evan gave a weak smile, and said, "Thanks."

Wade hugged him again then mussed his hair, and said, "Finish your lunch. You've got tests to take."

While Evan ate, the conversation transitioned to less serious subjects, like the which Star Wars was best, if anyone actually had the patience to read the Terms and Conditions, and which candy bar was superior between Milky Way and Kit Kat. Peter fell into the Kit Kat camp, and Wade insisted that the caramel goodness of a Milky Way could not be rivaled by wafers and chocolate. In the end, Evan said, "I like Toblerone."

"You were supposed to be the tie breaker," Wade lamented with an over the top whine that made both Peter and Evan chuckle. Then he laughed and said, "There's no accounting for taste."

"Maybe your taste," Evan said with a sheepish smile.

"Touche," Wade said with a nod.

Ten minutes later, after returning their trays and utensils to the kitchen, the three headed up to their wing of the building to Wade and Evan's suite so the boy could start his placement tests. Peter explained to Evan that the tests weren't graded for pass or fail, but just to see what he knows and to figure out what they needed to work on. Evan nodded, and commenced to working through the Math test.

Wade sat on the opposite side of the room on a small settee, flipping through the Table of Contents of the History of Theology textbook. After Peter finished giving Evan instructions, he joined Wade on the settee and took out his phone. Though there was still some space between them, Wade had to wonder why Peter chose to sit so close. Not that he was complaining.

Then Peter handed him his phone. Wade's brow scrunched, then he looked at the screen and saw a message typed out that said, You seem to be good with kids.

I've had practice, Wade quickly tapped out.

Gwen whispered in Peter's ear, and Peter asked, Do you have kids?

Wade reached into his pocket for his dented, bullet-proof wallet. He pulled out a picture of a dark haired girl with deeply bronzed skin and gold eyes that matched Wade's, and handed it to Peter. Peter's face spread in a smile and Gwen let out a squeak of unabashed joy as she flopped down into Peter's pocket.

Peter handed the picture back, and typed out, She's beautiful.

The smile on Wade's face was full of pride as he tucked his wallet back in his pocket. He was about to type back a gushing response about his sweet baby girl, but text appeared on the screen that said, You should not be passing notes in class.

Wade smirked, amazed he hadn't noticed the slight scent of rosemary in the air. He erased the line of text and handed the phone back to Peter and said, "I'm going to step outside for a few minutes." Evan looked up with a hint of fear in his eyes. Wade said, "I'm just going to be at the end of the hall. You need me, just shout and I'll be here."

Evan nodded, and Wade walked out the door and out the double doors that led to the outside walkway. As soon as the doors were closed, he said, "You know, Nat, I'm not a fan of the whole invisibility schtick. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

Natasha swept away her invisibility, small smile on her face. "All these years married to a witch queen, I figured you'd be more adept at picking up a little old shimmer."

"Shiklah ambushes me. Constantly. She takes grab-ass to the next level," Wade said with a chuckle. He leaned against the rail and said, "How've you been? Long time since Budapest."

"Not long enough," she said, looking up where Clint was perched on the stone molding, keen eyes studying the courtyard. "I have been very busy. As you might imagine, being security for Tony Stark is a not an easy job."

Wade huffed a laugh. "Well, not everyone's as easy to get along with as I am."

"You seem well," Natasha said with a smile. "I don't think I've seen you so clear-minded."

"Been a long time since I've been re-educated," Wade said, losing the humor in his voice. "Been a long time since a lot of things."

Natasha nodded. "I know what you mean."

"I'm happy you came by." He looked toward the horizon, and said, "I was hoping we could talk alone anyway. There's something I'd like you to do."

Natasha smirked. "Anything for a queen's consort."

Wave gave her a look, and said, "Some of Clan Akkaba escaped the farm. I need to know who they are and where they went. Especially Lady Margaret."

"To finish them off, or…?"

"So I can let Evan know if the people who raised him are still alive," Wade said.

Natasha nodded. "I can do that."

"You've gotta keep it low key," Wade said sternly. "I don't want there to be any hint about why you're inquiring."

Nat planted a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow as she said, "Are you seriously telling me how to be a spy?"

Wade smiled, and said, "Privilege of a queen's consort, right?"

"I'm going to tell your wife you said that," Natasha said with a glare.

"She won't care." He laughed, and said, "She thinks I need to find a boyfriend."

"I've known you long enough to know she's right." Natasha chuckled, and said, "You could always try to seduce Peter. He has a type, and you sort of fit the bill."

Wade laughed. "I didn't know slightly deranged and ugly was a type."

"I'm going to tell your wife you said that too." Then Natasha held out her branch of cloud willow and took to the air, soaring high into the sky with Clint shooting past her like an arrow.

Wade sighed and walked back to the room.

Chapter Text

Mystique sat in silence beside the door of Chancellor Lensherr's office, her face stoic and eyes staring at the opposite wall, her blood red cassock in stark contrast to her royal-blue skin. The Chancellor was in a meeting with some of his advisers, sitting at the end of a long mahogany table with Corvus, a black raven daemon, on his shoulder. She made special care to never look at the daemon.

When the meeting ended, the advisers departed, their eyes only going her direction for a moment before looking away. The Brotherhood was feared, especially among the elite. It was well known that many politicians met their death when the monsters in Red came to their door. Mystique had a reputation far more terrifying than most, considering her ability to shape-shift into anyone. She was the perfect assassin.

Once they were alone, Lensherr looked at her and said, "I already know that the mission was a failure. Tell me what you are doing about it."

Mystique crossed her long legs, and said, "We are monitoring Cluster closely. I am certain he is the one who brought Deadpool in."

"Why would you trust him?" Lensherr demanded.

"Why wouldn't I trust one of our own?" she responded calmly. "All of us have taken our leave of the Order. Have I not done the same?"

He stared at her, his eyes vicious. Anyone else would have cowered under the table the moment the candelabrum and every other metal object in the room started to vibrate with Erik Lensherr's rage, but Mystique only stared back with an impassive expression. After a moment, the Chancellor took a deep breath and stood, carrying Corvus to the golden cage by the window where he placed the daemon with a sigh.

Mystique asked, "What should we do about Deadpool?"

"Bring him back to The World," Lensherr answered. "Farouk will correct his rogue streak. As I understand, Deadpool is not the only defective member of the Brotherhood."

"Daken's daemon came back." Mystique's tone and face were both carefully schooled to neutrality as she said, "It is being corrected. In a few hours, he we will be ready to depart."

"Good. I want that boy found and brought to me. I don't want to see you again until that happens." The Chancellor said, "If you are successful, I will give you what you want."

Mystique's eyes flicked to Corvus and back to the Chancellor and said, "You can't give me what I want, Erik."

Then she departed with her typical saunter, her eyes fixed forward and a look on her face that made most people very nervous. She entered the elevator, and descended to the lowest level of the Magisterium where Victor Creed sat, silently waiting for her.

He looked up and said, "Orders?"

"Find Deadpool. Find the boy. Bring them here," Mystique answered blandly. "But that's not what we're going to do."

Creed raised a bushy eyebrow. "What's the plan?"

"Do what Erik says. Find them. But we're taking them to the relic room," Mystique said looking down the hall, where the shadows overpowered the overhead lights. She said, "We're going to put the boy in Apocalypse's armor, and we're going to send Deadpool after the Shadow King."

Creed eyed her and said, "Could end badly."

"It is always going to end badly for us, Victor." To punctuate her statement, screams erupted from down the hall. Mystique knew it was Daken, and her eyes narrowed. "It can't get much worse, can it?"

***

The footsteps of Amahl Farouk echoed down the dim corridor in the lowest level of the Magisterium Stronghold. He could feel the despair, depression, and dread that radiated from the cells. He could almost taste the agony, and the scent of fear was as refreshing as morning dew. And no cell radiated terror quite like that belonging to Daken Akihiro.

Daken was scrunched up against the farest corner, hands covering his ears and eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the constant nightmares produced by the Shadow King. The heavy odor of stress sweat mixed with the astringent stink of urine permeated the air as the nightmares grew to a crescendo that made Daken scream and thrash against the wall. The screams rose in pitch and desperation, his voice breaking into a terrified whimper.

"Silence, dog," Farouk said, and with a wave of his hand, the visions vanished.

Still gasping for breath, Daken opened his eyes. For a moment, all he could see was the inky blackness of the God of Nightmares. Then the shadows vaporized into the heavy silhouette of his tormentor. The master of torments.

That was when Daken remembered the farm, and he asked, "How did I get here?"

"My men collected you after your failure," Farouk answered. "I've already dealt with your associates. Now it is your turn. Stand and follow me."

"Fuck you," Daken hissed between frightened breaths.

Farouk smiled, his face morphing into something twisted with serrated teeth and red eyes as he said, "Precious boy, are you tempting me?" He loomed closer, the shadows stretching towards him as he said, "Stand up, puppet. It's time to take your medicine."

Daken swiped at him with his claws, slicing only through formless dark that then gripped his body and shoved him against the wall. He could feel hands all over his body, moving through his body. He squirmed to get away, but found the rotund belly of Farouk keeping him in place.

"You must really enjoy my company, dog," Farouk cooed in his ear. He laughed as frustrated tears streamed down Daken's filthy face, and said, "I certainly enjoy you, my boy. So full of fear. Your terror is the sweetest I've ever known."

The edges of Daken's vision started to darken, and he fought hard against another invasion of the Shadow King. Then he plummeted down into a abyss filled with the accumulated evil of all history. Every moment became the new most-terrifying moment. The phantoms of the dark were beyond description, each clawing and infecting Daken with their venom.

Then he was no longer falling. He was 5 years old watching as Mr. Akihiro beat his mother to death. Daken tried to fight him off, tried to save her, but he was thrown against the wall hard enough that his neck snapped. He was bleeding and his body was numb. Every time he dreamed, this was the place his mind went. It was a primal terror, seeing the way her face turned to a red mash of bone and blood more gruesome with each blow from the maniac with the hammer.

There is another face in the room, one that started appearing lately. The face of his real father, the mutant bastard with claws like his. They called him the Wolverine, and he was one of the first members of the Brotherhood of Assassins. He was the best at what they do, and Daken swore that he would kill him for abandoning him to the hands of a maniac like Akihira. And he succeeded. At least, as much as anyone could succeed in killing a man who can't be killed, and Daken took his place in the Brotherhood.

"Thinking of daddy again?" Farouk's voice cut through the hallucination.

Daken blinked and realized he was no longer in the cell. He was naked, sitting in the middle of the cleansing room while a couple of rubber-suit wearing minions sprayed him with high pressure hoses. He gagged and sputtered at the water in his face, trying to stand but constantly thwarted by the freezing water.

Farouk waved his hand, and the water shut off. Daken could do nothing but shiver as he was hauled to his feet only to be dragged to the Chair. Though he shouldn't remember it at all, Daken knew to dread that room. He knew that there was nothing but pain to be found in the Chair. He shouldn't remember anything before the last mission, but for him, memories always came back. Always.

The sight of the chair gave him a fresh wave of adrenaline, and his claws slashed at the ones holding him. He carved a deep gash in one, but the other was faster. He felt a sharp pinch in his neck, and a moment later his whole body went limp. Another minion came in to replace the injured, and Daken was thrown into the Chair.

As he was strapped in, Daken's eyes stayed on Farouk. Though he knew the psychic could see into his mind as easily as Daken could look through windows, Daken imagined all the ways he wanted to filet the bastard. But as the straps tightened, his pulse quickened and dread filled him to the core.

Farouk smiled calmly as electrodes were placed on the sides of Daken's head and across his chest. "Why are you so afraid?"

"I don't know!" Daken shouted, a shrill tone in his voice that screamed the terror he felt as the machines around him started whirring to life. More electrodes were placed along his arms, his torso. He shrieked as the first sizzle of electricity twinged at his sides. "Stop! Please!"

Farouk shook his head and chuckled as if dealing with an obstinate child. "You do know, Daken. You know exactly why you are weak. You know you need to take your treatment."

"This isn't real," Daken gasped as the straps tightened to the point of pain. "This isn't real. I'm dreaming. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare. You're in my head again. You're in my he-"

His words were cut off by the sudden powerful jolt of electricity. His teeth slammed together, lopping off the tip of his tongue as his body shook and muscles tensed. Daken had no idea how long it lasted or even when it ended. Everything blurred into agony that forced all the air from his lungs. It wasn't until he felt the squirming sensation inside that he heaved in oxygen.

"Why are you scared, Daken?" Farouk asked, forcing Daken's eyes open as his fingers trailed down Daken's chest. His hand came to rest on the quivering mass just below his ribs. Daken's heart beat faster, feeling sick inside as Farouk pressed harder and Daken screamed. "Mystique never screams in the Chair. Neither does Creed. Why are you screaming?"

Daken couldn't speak, couldn't move. He could only watch as Farouk grabbed a scalpel off the small tray by the Chair and slipped the blade through Daken's skin. Then Daken screamed as Farouk's hand reached inside, and pulled the membrane-wrapped daemon from Daken's torso. The creature squirmed and Daken gagged at the horrific violation. All the other torments, all the nightmares, the abuse-none of it compared to the disgusting feeling of Farouk's hands on his daemon.

Farouk peeled back the membrane, revealing the malformed creature within. It looked almost like a fetal cat, about the the size of Daken's fist. It wiggled, trying to escape Farouk's grasp, but the Shadow King just tightened his grip, squeezing hard enough that Daken's entire body lit up with pain just as intense as the electric current.

"This is your weakness, my boy," Farouk said coldly, holding the creature by its neck. "This is why you are afraid."

"Please don't!" Daken begged. He knew it was futile. It was always futile. It would be futile next time.

Farouk smiled, then snapped the daemon's neck.

***

Wade woke with a scream at the back of his throat, his entire body covered with sweat as he shoved back the covers and immediately scooped up Bob, holding the daemon against his pounding heart as he quickly checked all the doors and windows, and triple-checked that Evan was safe and asleep.

Outside, the sky was starting to glow with the first light, and Wade knew better than to think he would sleep after dreaming of the World. He started a pot of coffee and dressed in black tactical pants and a maroon and gold Stark Institute t-shirt he picked up at the front desk. Though it was hard to tell, by the time he walked out to the small verandah at the end of the hall, Wade had seven guns hidden on his body, along with a variety of knives. He would tell anyone that the weapons were to keep Evan safe, but in reality, it was the only thing that calmed him after having one of those dreams.

That, and holding Bob. The daemon nuzzled against Wade's heart, silent but there. Wade knew too well what it was like to be without him, and though he often left Bob behind, he did it only to protect the daemon.

The sky was starting to turn pink when Wade felt a tingling in his skin, and he turned to see Warren standing beside him, his many faces blurring and twisting and massive wings arching up to the sky. His blue skin shimmered and rippled in the breeze, a testament to the being's intangibility.

"Good morning, feathers," Wade said as he sipped his coffee. "How was your trip? Learn anything interesting to be cryptic about?"

"Plenty," Warren responded, his voice echoing. "But most importantly, I know that for a time, you are safe here."

Wade gestured over his shoulder at his Death, and said, "Then why is he hanging out in my vision?"

"The time of safety is short," Warren answered. The angel looked at him, his many eyes expressing a variety of emotions. "I am aware that the heir of Apocalypse is to learn alethiometry."

"He's also learning advanced algebra," Wade pointed out.

"Advanced algebra will not destroy the world," Warren said.

Wade smirked. "Tell that to Robert Oppenheimer."

Warren said, "You have something in common with the atomic doctor. You are on a course that will make you Death, destroyer of worlds."

"Catchy title," Wade said.

"You must heed my warnings," Warren said with a hint of anger. "If you take this path to its logical end, you will make an enemy of the Kingdom of Heaven."

Wade slammed his coffee cup on the rail and said, "Tell me something, Warren. When was the last time the Kingdom of Heaven was anyone's friend? This planet has gone to shit. The way I see it, we need something to change."

"A new Age of Apocalypse is not the answer," Warren said. "It will be the end of all things."

"The last time was supposedly the end of all things," Wade said. At Warren's confused-at least it seemed confused-look, Wade said, "I've been reading up on En Sabah Nur. Yeah, he was a dick at the end. But he also did a lot of good before he went off the rails. There's still hope."

"Yes, there is still hope," Warren said, though it sounded more like a threat than an agreement. All of his eyes narrowed as he said, "I will be watching you."

"I'll make sure to dance sexy in the shower," Wade said, earning a final dirty look as Warren spread his wings and vanished into the first rays of sunlight. Wade frowned at his cracked coffee cup, and mumbled to Bob, "Sometimes I really wish I'd taken the community college route."

Bob pecked his chin and gestured over Wade's shoulder. Wade turned to see Peter standing there in his pajama pants and hoodie, looking a little sleep mussed and confused. Peter stepped out and asked, "Everything okay?"

"Of course," Wade answered. "Just enjoying the sunrise."

Peter looked at the cracked mug, and said, "You sounded angry."

"Sun's taking too damn long to rise," Wade said with a half-hearted smile. "I'm certainly not out here talking to my Death or a stuck up angel named Warren. That would be ridiculous." Then he tossed the last of the coffee over the rail, and asked, "What has you up so early, Spidey?"

Peter smirked at the nickname, and said, "I smelled coffee and got excited."

"Really now," Wade said, laughing. "Damn, baby boy. Didn't think sweet arabica was the way to a man's heart. I guess I need to rethink my approach."

"Guess I'll have to try your coffee to judge the sweetness of your arabica," Peter responded without thinking too hard about how flirty it sounded. When his brain caught up to his mouth, Peter blushed and cleared his throat before saying, "Yeah, I really do need some coffee."

"Well, follow me to my parlor, Spidey," Wade said with an exaggerated wink and wave of his hand. He followed Peter through the door and down the hall. And if he happened to glance down at Peter's pert ass, that was his business.

In Wade's room, the merc pointed at the coffee pot before walking in to check on Evan. The kid was still fast asleep, curled into a tight ball with Celestia laying on top of him in her bobcat form. He closed the door, leaving it cracked slightly, and returned to his area where Peter was seated at the desk inhaling the steam from his cup.

Wade poured himself another cup and sat in the window seat. Bob immediately flitted off his shoulder to the floor where Gwen ran to meet him. After watching the daemons rub noses and play for a minute, Wade said, "I haven't seen him do this in a while."

Peter had to wonder what kind of life would make a daemon so stressed. Despite the possibility that the answer would be terrible, Peter said, "I know this is probably really personal, but why is Bob in the shape he's in?"

"Personal is a good term for it," Wade said before taking another drink of coffee. Peter started to think that it was time to start backtracking, when Wade said, "But it's fair enough. I know people wonder about it." He shrugged and said, "When you get hurt, your daemon feels it, right?"

Peter nodded.

Wade sighed, and said, "Well, instead of the typical bumps and bruises that happen, think repeatedly being shot, stabbed, burned, beaten, and broken. Then throw in a smattering of brain cancer and psychological torture."

Yeah. Peter didn't want to know the answer, and his heart ached for the mercenary who now looked out over the courtyard with a frown instead of an easy smile. Bob was now laying on the floor, his head down with Gwen wrapped around his beak, nuzzling him. Peter hoped that Wade could feel the comfort his daemon offered Bob. The parrot daemon was proof that, though Wade was covered in physical scars, the merc's real injuries were somewhere that no one could see.

Though it felt like a bad idea, Peter asked, "Do you really see your Death?"

Wade nodded. "Yeah, I do. He's standing by the door right now."

Peter looked that direction, trying to see some sort of outline or shimmer or anything that would indicate that an ethereal creature from worlds beyond was there. Again without checking with his brain, Peter said, "I wonder if it would show up in a photogram?"

"I guess you'll always wonder," Wade said, his tone a little curt as his mind replayed his nightmare/memory of the Chair and the Shadow King, always wanting to test something to see what happened. He shuddered and said, "I need to get Evan up."

Peter knew he'd said the wrong thing, and he regretted it. He said, "I'm sorry, Wade. I didn't-"

"Don't you have work or something?" Wade said, cutting him off. "I'll make sure Evan is on time for his classes."

"Okay," Peter said as he knelt down to pick up Gwen. He nodded and said, "See you then."

Wade watched him until the door closed, then again checked and double checked the doors and windows until his nerves were again calm.

Chapter Text

The next couple weeks were an adjustment period. While Evan's test scores proved that he was very intelligent and well-educated up to this point, it took a lot of motivation from both Peter and Wade to get him to focus on his lessons. Sometimes, it took a lot of effort just to get him out of his room. The first week was the hardest, and more than once Evan slammed his books closed and left the Library or office where his classes were given. Often he would go into his room and hide under the blankets.

So far, Evan was not willing to leave the Stark Institute grounds. The first time Peter suggested that Evan come with him to do Bucky's photogram, Evan seemed interested. But when the time came to leave, Evan refused to come out of his blanket fort. The first week, Evan wouldn't step outside the building at all.

Then Jessica Drew showed up on Monday of Evan's second week, wearing her running clothes with Wyndham (her rust-colored hare daemon) at her side. She greeted Evan with a big smile and said, "When do you want to start running with me?"

Evan was enchanted. It was all over his young face as he said, "Can I start now?"

Whether it was the fresh air, the exercise, or Jessica's company, Evan seemed much more alert and focused on the days that he went running. He was less anxious and fidgety during his regular lessons, and was much more attentive with the alethiometer.

Any question Peter might have had about whether or not Evan was an adept with the truth-telling device was answered by the end of the second week. While working on some of the exercises, Evan was able to answer several questions about Peter's life. He correctly identified his Aunt's profession as that of a nurse, that Peter's father was a scientist, and that Peter's nickname was Spider-Man. However, asking more complicated questions were still difficult. Evan tended to become very emotional, and the alethiometer's responses were a mystery.

Then there was the day that Evan's exercise questions were directed toward Wade. The mercenary refused to confirm anything but the most basic of questions, like that he was originally from New France, that he lied about his age to join the military at 17, and that his middle name was Winston. Evan also saw other things when reading the alethiometer for these questions.

He looked up from the device, and said, "What is The World?"

"Like the universe we live in, the globe," Wade answered from his spot by the window.

Evan clarified, "What is The World to you? Like, it's a place, right? A place you've been?"

"Yeah," Wade said as he reached to the small ledge where Bob was perched and held the daemon in his hands. "It's something I don't like to talk about, Evan. I'm sorry, but I would prefer you to not look too deep there."

Evan nodded, and put the alethiometer on the table, and that was the end of the discussion.

Later while Wade was in the laundry room, Evan asked Peter, "Do daemons come back if they're killed?"

The question took Peter by surprise; it was so out of the blue. He closed his notebook and said, "No, Evan. Not that I've ever heard. Usually, if someone's daemon is killed, the person dies too. Or if they don't die, they don't really recover from it." Peter picked up Gwen, and asked, "Why do you ask?"

"The alethiometer told me that Wade's daemon was killed," Evan said, hands cupped around Celestia in her butterfly form. "It happened in The World."

Peter didn't know what to think about that. He said, "Maybe Wade's daemon wasn't really killed, just injured very badly."

"I know what I saw," Evan said softly. "Do you think Wade would be mad if I asked him?"

"I don't know," Peter said. Gwen looked at him with that little look that always made him take action. He said, "I'll talk to Wade about it, if you want me to. Just focus on your reading."

That night when Peter went to his quarters, Gwen couldn't calm down at the thought of Wade's daemon being killed. She sat in her small tub while Peter showered, playing in the water as she said, "It would explain so much, you know. How he's so touchy about anything to do with experiments. You already know he's been really, really hurt. Just looking at him tells you that. But if his daemon was killed?"

"It's not possible, though," Peter said, pausing in his hair scrubbing. "Bucky's lived for at least a decade without a daemon, and there is no sign at all of it coming back."

"But Wade's different," Gwen said. "Just look at his Dust! Maybe his super high Dust count caused his daemon to come back? Maybe that's what makes him different."

"I don't want to speculate too much," Peter said as he resumed his shampooing. "Either way, I'm not looking forward to asking him about it."

"You gotta use some finesse, Pete," Gwen said. "You can't just blurt things out. You need to make him comfortable enough to answer your questions. And for the love of Odin, can you try to pay attention to his demeanor?"

Peter gave her a frown. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it was clear as day that he didn't like talking about his Death, but then you mention wanting to photogram it." Gwen sighed, and said, "I swear, Pete. You have the social skills of river moss."

"Then why don't you talk to him," Peter said.

Gwen sighed again. "If Bob would only talk to me, I could probably get all the information I want. But instead, I have to wait until you and Wade figure out how to communicate without grunts and hand gestures."

"You're part of me, Gwen," Peter said.

Gwen smiled and said, "That's how I know you have the skills to make it happen, Spidey."

Peter felt his face heat up. "Don't call me that."

He toweled off and wrapped Gwen in a washrag and carried her to the small sink counter. She dried herself and groomed her fluffy hair while Peter brushed his teeth. He rinsed and looked at the stubble on his chin, gave it a scratch, and said, "Maybe tomorrow morning, I'll go running with them. Maybe he'll be a little more open and talkative after some morning calisthenics."

"You really think Wade needs incentive to be talky?" Gwen said with a giggle.

Peter shook his head and carried his daemon to bed.

***

The next morning was a Saturday, and the sky was gray when Jessica and Evan set out on their run. As usual, Wade ran with them, though he always kept his distance by a minute or so. While he and Evan got along well, Wade didn't want Evan to feel like he was constantly being watched-even if that was the case. He kept his pace slow, staying to the paved path with Bob up in the air keeping watch.

The daemon had regrown his flight feathers during their time at Stark Institute. It wasn't unusual for Bob to do this when they were somewhere safe for a long period. It was only during their missions that he really ripped himself apart. Bob was the main reason Wade was ready to drop completely off the radar. That, and spending time with his daughter before she got too old to want to spend time with her old man.

The snap of a twig caught his attention, and Wade came to a stop. He listened close, hearing footsteps and shaking leaves, knowing someone was coming through the woods. Wade closed his eyes, connecting to Bob long enough to scout the woods in that direction. He smirked seeing who was coming his way.

Wade jogged ahead, head turned to watch how Peter jumped, swung, and sprinted through the woods. Peter was very graceful with his movements, practically dancing along the path, and clearly having a good time if the smile on his face was anything to go by.

When Peter noticed him, the young man smiled and waved, then completely missed his next mark and tripped over a small log and hit the ground. Gwen flew off his shoulder, and Wade could see the terror in Peter's eyes. Terror that turned to relief when Bob swooped down just in time to catch Gwen before hitting a rock.

Bob and Wade landed beside Peter at the same time; the daemon depositing Gwen in Peter's shaking hands. Wade put a hand on Peter's shoulder and asked, "You okay?"

Peter took a deep breath, holding Gwen tight to his neck, and shakily nodded his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He gave an embarrassed laugh, and said, "Guess I'm a little out of practice."

Wade swept a leaf out of Peter's mussed hair, and said, "You need to pay attention to your surroundings, Spidey."

Peter blushed, his head swimming with the influx of adrenaline and whatever it was that happened to him when Wade touched him. Wade's touch was steadying, keeping Peter from completely freaking out over how close he came to injuring Gwen. It happened before in the city while running with Eddie Brock and Miles Morales. Peter got tripped up on a loose shingle, and Gwen lost her grasp on his shirt. She landed almost 10 feet away, and Peter felt the distance as much as he felt her impact. This time, Bob was there to catch her and Peter was almost in tears with the gratitude he felt.

"Come, let's jog it off. Gotta keep up with Evan," Wade said with half smile.

"Yeah," was all Peter could manage as Wade's hand left his upper arm, and the merc started back to the paved path. Peter followed, rushing a moment to catch up to him then falling into step.

It was obvious that Wade had been in the military, just by the way he ran. Steve was the same way, with his perfectly straight posture, squared shoulders, and steady pace designed for cadence chants. For a while, Bob stayed with them, floating on the cool morning breeze just above Wade's left shoulder. Gwen, despite the scare, was on Peter's right shoulder making heart-eyes at the parrot daemon. Then Bob took off into the air, making a high arc, no doubt flying ahead to Evan and Jessica.

"What brings you out this morning?" Wade asked as they started up a small hill.

Peter's plan had been to run with Wade and approach him about what Evan saw while reading the alethiometer, but now the only thing he wanted to do was put one foot in front of the other and not think about how close he came to hurting Gwen. He cleared his throat and said, "I've spent too much time inside. Thought some fresh air would be good."

"You don't really do nature, do you," Wade said with a smirk.

"Is it that obvious?" Peter answered, his face heating up for reasons having nothing to do with the hill. The scientist was in excellent shape for the most part, except that he slacked off on his exercise routine since coming to Stark Institute. He said, "I'm used to rooftops and alleys, not grass and dirt."

Wade chuckled, and said, "Well, up until that whole face-plant thing, you were looking good."

Peter's face heated up again, and he said, "I try to keep good form."

"I think you were born with that," Wade said.

Jessica and Evan were at the top of the hill. There was a bench and a water fountain. Jessica was jogging in place and Evan was drinking. Both smiled at them as they approached. Wyndham and Celestia (who was in her rabbit form) both bounced over to greet Gwen, who touched noses with both rabbits before scurrying to Bob and burying her face in the shelter of his wing.

"Well, look who's up with the sun!" Jessica said brightly.

Peter laughed and said, "Yeah, I didn't know the sun came up this early on Saturday."

Evan wiped water off his chin, and asked, "Are we going to do the river route today?"

"If you want," Jessica said. "It's a little foggy, but I think we'll be alright."

Evan nodded and said, "I'm ready when you are."

Jessica smiled at Wade and Peter, and said, "You sticking with us?"

"You can have a head start," Wade answered.

Evan grinned and headed down the path towards the river. Wade sat on the bench with his legs kicked out in front of him, and said, "What's on your mind, Peter?"

Peter sighed, looking at Bob and Gwen. He didn't want to say anything to end their mutual cuddling, but he didn't want to lie either. Peter said, "I wanted to talk to you about something Evan told me. It's something that Evan saw with the alethiometer and was afraid to ask you."

Wade nodded. "Okay. What did he see?"

"He saw Bob being killed," Peter said softly.

"He saw that," Wade said, his voice neutral. Unreadable. "Then he didn't get it right."

Peter nodded, and said, "I told him it was probably a misread."

"It was," Wade said, straightening up a little. Peter could see a hint of aggression in the way Wade looked at him, and Peter fully expected the next words out of Wade's mouth to be harsh. Then Wade took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before saying, "Bob isn't the one that died."

Though the words Wade used were small and concise, Peter couldn't quite grasp what Wade meant. He felt like he'd gone offline, his brow furrowed and mouth hanging open. When his brain kicked back into gear, he was somewhere between excited and horrified. "What? What do you mean? Like, your daemon died, but it came back different?"

Wade cleared his throat, and said, "Yes. He came back different."

"But he came back," Peter said. He ran a hand back through his hair, and gasped, "How did it happen? Was it a process?" He gasped, "This could mean so much for Tony's work with Ultron! Oh my god, Wade. This is incredible!"

Once Peter was done with his excited ramble, he realized that Wade had that angry look in his eyes that made Peter want to hide under a rock. Wade stood, and in a motion too fast for Peter to dodge, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, jerking him almost off his feet and Wade hissed, "I'm not a goddamn lab-rat. Get that through your fucking skull."

Despite the immediate danger he found himself in, Peter shakily said, "But understanding this could help so many people. You'd be a hero to so many."

"I'm not a hero either," Wade snapped, shoving him away.

He looked like he was about to shout something else, but his attention was abruptly pulled away from Peter with the sound of Jessica shouting for them down in the valley.

***

It started as a fluttering feeling in Evan's limbs. Then a swimming in his vision. Then all he could see was the pitch-black forest and smell the fire that roared behind him. He could hear the dying, frantic shouts and screams that echoed through the woods. His heart was racing, and he was only dimly aware of Celestia shouting at him.

Evan fell to his hands and knees at the edge of the river, looking at his own reflection. His red eyes were glowing and an other-worldly light was swirling around his face. His fingers dug into the silt as his body shook and the phantom scent of fire continued to fill his head. His ears were ringing, the only other sound that of blood rushing. He couldn't catch his breath. In fact, he felt like he was about to pass out.

He could hear Celestia shouting, but all he could see was the dark woods and feel the terror of someone chasing him. He wanted to get up, but his limbs were useless.

A calm, familiar voice started speaking. "Evan. Evan? Can you hear me, Ev? You're by the Saint Lawrence River. You're on a jogging path around Stark Institute in New Denmark. Celestia is right here with you. You're safe, Evan. You're not there, you're safe."

Evan looked up to see Wade crouched down beside him. Instead of the smoke-filled woods, he was on a foggy riverbank.

"I'm going to help you up, okay?" Wade said as he reached for him. Wade carefully lifted Evan off his hands and knees to stand on unsteady legs. He kept his hand on Evan's upper right arm, and Evan could feel himself being calmed by the touch. Wade urged him to walk to a fallen log and guided him to sit. He reached into his backpack and took out a small bottle of water and a granola bar. He held them out to Evan and said, "Here, eat this. Drink. You'll feel better."

"I don't want to," Evan said, holding his head in his hands.

"Take a couple bites, okay? Leave the rest for the critters if you don't want it."

Celestia said, "Please, Evan."

Evan unwrapped the bar and took a bite, and hugged Celestia against his chest. Food tasted strange, like even his tastebuds had departed reality for a minute. He noticed there was blood on his pant-leg and realized there was a cut on his left hand. Before he could call attention to it, Wade had a roll of gauze and an antiseptic pad in his hand.

"Just going to clean it up, okay?" Wade said before taking Evan's hand. Evan was still shaking. He felt simultaneously cold and hot. Wade also seemed prepared for that, and removed a Stark Institute hoodie from the pack and handed it to him. Evan pulled it over his head. He swam in it, but the soft fabric felt good. He pulled the sleeves over his hands and pressed his covered palms against his sweaty face.

"I'm sorry," Evan's muffled voice whispered. "I don't know what happened."

Wade sat on the log, and said, "It's called a flashback, and there is no need to apologize. I'm not going to judge you, kid."

Evan looked at him, and said, "I'm not supposed to be weak. I'm an Apocalypse."

"It's not a weakness," Wade responded. Then he asked, "What's an Apocalypse?"

"Something Ozymandias told me about," Evan answered, looking away. He stroked Celestia's soft fur, and said, "I'm from a long line of very powerful mutants. I am supposed to fix The World. I think he meant The World where you've been."

Wade had to fight to keep himself calm at the mention of that place. He said, "The World is a very scary place. It's run by a man everyone calls the Shadow King."

Evan said, "I saw that your daemon died in The World. I saw that it's happened more than once. You were there a really long time."

Wade nodded. "Yeah I was. And I never want to go back."

Evan chewed on his lip, his brow furrowed. After a minute of silence, he asked, "If I do become what Ozymandias said. If I become Apocalypse, will you help me fix The World?"

"It's a dangerous job, Evan."

"It doesn't matter," Evan answered stoically. "If I have the ability to help people, then I have to help them."

Wade looked down at his hands, and took a deep breath hoping that Evan couldn't see that he was shaking. He said, "I'll always have your back, kid. When the time comes, I'll be there."

***

That night, Peter woke to a soft knock on his door. It had been a pretty exhausting day, and Peter wasn't excited about being roused at 1 o'clock in the morning. He stumble-walked to the door and slurred, "Who is it?"

"It's Wade."

Peter immediately became more alert. He grabbed his bathrobe and put Gwen in his pocket before opening the door. He was surprised to see that Wade was standing in the hall wearing only his lounge pants, Bob cradled against his bare chest. For the first time, Peter could see the full extent of the scars that covered Wade's torso. Some were burns. Others looked like intentionally carved symbols.

He realized he was staring, and shook his head. "Uh, what's going on? Evan okay?"

Wade nodded. "Yeah, he's sleeping. I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"Okay." Peter backed up and said, "Come in, if you want."

Wade followed him inside, and Peter turned on the small bedside lamp, casting the merc into Caravaggio lighting. Maybe it was the fact that Peter was only half awake, but he couldn't stop looking at the hard planes of muscle that defined the merc's shoulders and chest.

Trying to keep things professional, Peter asked, "What did you want to talk about?"

"I've been a total asshole to you," Wade said softly. "I shouldn't have gotten in your face like I did this morning. I shouldn't have reacted like I did, because you're right." His knee started shaking as he said, "If I have the power to help somebody, I should do it even if it feels scary."

Peter perked up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Wade paused, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, "if you want to photogram me or try to understand why my daemon comes back, I'll let you. I'll be your lab rat."

"If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to do it," Peter said. "I don't want to put you in that position."

"I'm volunteering," he replied. He shrugged. "I mean, it would be nice to keep the IV's and exam tables to a minimum, but-"

"It's just a camera," Peter assured. "And we don't have to be in a lab. You can pick the venue. Just needs to be somewhere without other people. We could do it in your suite if that would make you comfortable. Anything you want." He beamed a smile, and said, "You have no idea how much this could mean."

"It could mean nothing," Wade said. He smoothed Bob's feathers, and said, "I was experimented on for years, maybe decades. I don't remember it all. I don't know what was done to me. I just know that I'm not entirely human, and I'm not exactly homosuperior either." He paused, adding softly, "I'm pretty messed up."

Peter said, "I promise I will not do anything without your permission. And if there is anything you are uncomfortable with, just tell me." He smiled, and said, "Thank you."

"And again, I'm sorry," Wade said. "I'm not used to good people. I don't know how to act or react. I'm used to being surrounded by enemies. That's what I'm comfortable with. I know what to expect." He sighed, holding Bob against his chest. "I'd like to change that."

"I'd like to help you change that," Peter said, even as he felt heat rise in his cheeks.

Wade gave a small smile. Peter put a hand on Wade's shoulder, and as Peter was flooded with warmth, Wade relaxed. Wade's hand came up to cover Peter's, and the warmth intensified. Peter could feel himself being pulled in again, like a moth to a flame. Even his logical mind could not convince him that kissing the merc was a bad idea.

"I'm sorry for waking you," Wade said before Peter could make his move. He stood, letting Peter's hand fall away.

The loss of contact brought Peter to his feet. Wade was about to ask, "What?" But was cut short when Peter kissed him. For a moment, the merc tensed and Peter had a split second thinking he'd made a huge mistake. Then Wade's hand came up to cup Peter's cheek, meeting his lips with tenderness that made Peter melt.

Then it was over, and Wade stepped back and said, "Goodnight, Peter." Without another word, he left the room.

Peter was frozen in place, his whole body tingling from the prolonged contact. He pressed his fingers to his lips, savoring the buzz that Wade left behind. Meanwhile, Gwen was in the middle of complete ecstasy, laying on her back with her legs twitching. Her eyes were glazed and she let out a squeak when Peter picked her up.

"We're in so much trouble," Peter said with a soft laugh.

Gwen sighed. "I know, and it's so awesome."

Chapter Text

Peter had to stomp down his enthusiasm to start photogramming Wade for a couple reasons. First of all, Wade's main priority was being a bodyguard to Evan. Most of the time when Evan was sleeping or reading in his room, Wade was out patrolling the grounds or conferring with Natasha on security concerns. Bob was always left to watch over the boy, and owing to the ease of which Wade could connect with his daemon, Wade always had his eyes on Evan.

Second was the fact that Peter needed to make a much more sensitive film to observe Wade's Dust. It took some convincing, but Wade finally agreed to having Tony involved in the process, and for a week, Tony and Peter worked together to fine-tune the photogram process for someone with a high Dust concentration. Not to mention, adjusting the Asriel Scale to accommodate such a high concentration.

The look on Tony's face when watching the original, anomalous photogram was absolutely priceless. When Peter first told him about the photogram, he was not convinced that it was as extraordinary as Peter claimed. Not that Peter was prone to exaggerating when it came to Dust images, it's just that such a claim needed to be observed.

Tony started out with that stern look of observation that quickly morphed into surprise, to confusion, and eventually to awe. He watched and re-watched the photogram, slowing it down and pausing to closely study the edges of Wade's Dust. He said to Peter, "You know, I thought you might have been mistaken, but this is remarkable."

"I know,"Peter said. Adding somewhat sheepishly, "Wade is a very remarkable person."

"Uh huh," Tony said with a smirk. "What else is he, uh, remarkable at?"

Peter looked insulted. "What are you implying?"

"Absolutely nothing," Tony said with a chuckle. "Just try to keep things professional, okay Peter."

Keeping things professional wasn't really a problem, especially since Wade had kept his distance since the night he agreed to do the photogram. Oh, and that whole kiss thing. The kiss thing had not been brought up at all by either party, and Peter was both relieved and somewhat disappointed. The relief came from a lot of overthinking; the disappointment more or less from the same thing.

Peter knew deep down that his sudden influx of hormones had an origin somewhere with Wade's mutations. At least, that's where it started since from the first time they made palm to palm contact with their introductory handshake. But now, Peter didn't have that excuse. They didn't shake hands on a daily basis. Their physical contact was limited to accidental touches when walking on the stairs, and those brief moments didn't create the same pulse-pounding effect.

Though he wouldn't admit it outloud to anyone, Peter wanted to have more contact. And it was this lack of contact that made him realize that he really did have a fascination with the merc with a mouth. He wanted to know everything about him, not just his Dust. However, being able to bring up that subject was something Peter wasn't good at. In fact, he'd never managed to make the first move in any relationship he'd ever had. It was always someone else initiating things. Except this time, he did make the first move, and now he had no idea what to do next.

A week after the kiss thing, Peter was no closer to having a solution. Wade seemed content to continue on with life as usual. The few times that it was just the two of them, Wade kept the conversation centered on their side project of observing his Dust.

Wade did his best to not fidget when it came time to do the photogram. He was failing miserably, but he tried to sit still while Peter talked Evan through the process. Evan was very interested in Peter's work with Dust, especially after watching Wade's initial photogram. Even Wade had to admit that it was pretty impressive, though he still didn't quite get why it was so important. But then again, even Tony Stark was interested in Wade's Dust.

Tony was in the room too, helping to calibrate the photogram equipment. He and Peter had worked together to develop a much more sensitive emulsion that would keep Wade's Dust from turning into an indiscernible blob. Tony wanted to see how the Dust flowed around Wade, and how it flowed into the merc from his daemon.

Everything was kept casual and simple. They set up in Wade and Evan's suite, and Tony had to take a moment to adjust to the way Wade had redecorated. Over the weeks, Wade's blood magic had been amplified by Natasha, and every inch of the glass was etched with ancient symbols, every door with crimson runes from magic schools that spanned the globe and several millenniums. They also stayed up late one night making a "blood candle", something that Peter wished he never saw happen. Especially with how much blood it took to construct, and how it was acquired by cutting open Wade's wrist.

The wrist healed, but that didn't stop Peter from having nightmares or being ten times more terrified of Natasha than before. The blood candle was something Natasha called a final defense against an enemy. While the candle burned, the one who held it would be protected from any harm. Evan kept the candle in the same bag he kept the alethiometer, and he was never without either item.

Tony was very close to being angry about the blood on the 100+ year old walls. Then again, he knew deep down that worse things had probably coated these walls over the years—especially during that time the Hellfire Club took up residence at House Stark in the late 1800s. He'd heard plenty about those days from the ghost of Benjamin Franklin, who sometimes popped into his laboratory and watched him work.

Now, Tony sat back and watched Peter work, and he couldn't help but be both proud and amused by the way the young man dealt with the mercenary. Peter hinted at Wade's reluctance to be part of any kind of experiment, and Tony knew enough about the Brotherhood to know that his fears were not unfounded.

Tony originally wanted Peter to be Evan's tutor based off the young man's intelligence, but he decided that it really was the best choice because of how well Peter worked with Wade. They both had a knack for banter, and played off each other with the ease of old friends, rather than two people who'd never met before a month ago. A few times, Peter had shared concerns about the mercenary, but those complaints seemed to have ended a while back.

Peter was busy checking the photogram equipment, and nodded in satisfaction at Evan's work. "Very good job, Ev. You should assist me next time at Bucky's."

Evan smiled, and said, "That would be cool."

"Okay, gentlemen, take your positions," Tony said as he shooed Peter and Evan away from the Dust camera apparatus. For calibration purposes, Peter was going to be in the photogram, too. Because of Dust photography being Peter's focus, Peter's Dust signature was well documented and (more importantly) consistent to the average. Also, Wade seemed to be comforted by the fact that Peter was willing to participate.

Peter sat a few feet away with Gwen taking up residence on the small pillow by the window. She was reluctant to leave Bob's company, and Peter understood. Even if he and Wade couldn't quite get on the same page, it was obvious their daemons were a chapter or two ahead.

Tony double checked the equipment and looked at Wade and asked, "Are you ready for your close up, Mr. Wilson?"

Wade swept a hand over his bald, scarred head and said, "Does my hair look okay?"

"Gorgeous," Tony said with a smirk.

Peter chuckled and said, "Just open the damn aperture."

Tony did, and Peter could see that Wade tensed up, almost like he was ready to run out the door. Peter wanted to say something that would calm him down, but was coming up short. He looked around the room, hoping to see something that would trigger anything that could distract the merc. Then he noticed Tony's t-shirt.

"Do you like Black Sabbath?" Peter asked Wade.

Wade took a moment to process the question. Then his eyes brightened, and he said, "Yeah. I love Sabbath. But I think I'm more an Ozzy fan than a Sabbath fan. I met the dude once in London. Couldn't understand a word he said, but his bat daemon was pretty cool."

Peter grinned. "That's awesome. Was it at a concert?"

"Nah," Wade said. "I was there to meet an informant. Never been to a concert."

"Me neither," Peter said. He kept the music topic going, seeing that it made Wade relax a little.

Tony listened to them for a moment, but lost all interest in the conversation—despite the ludicrous claim that Led Zepplin was somehow superior to Pink Floyd, which they absolutely were not—when he realized that Evan had the alethiometer in his hands. He sat at the table with Evan, his jaw hanging a little slack and heart pounding enough to make his shirt vibrate.

Evan noticed the look, and held the device out to him. "Have a look."

Tony accepted it, and felt like the world had vanished but for the alethiometer in his hand. He'd seen so many pictures and heard so much from Peter about the device, but actually holding it was the closest thing to a religious experience the billionaire ever had. It was heavy and obviously ancient. Peter was right about the symbols, too. They had a distinctively Egyptian look, which made the craftsmanship that much more impressive. It was thought that this time in history was the most advanced, but Tony learned long ago that their ancestors—especially those in the East—were astoundingly advanced.

"Do you want to help me practice?" Evan asked as he opened Charles Xavier's guidebook.

Tony nodded and handed the alethiometer back to Evan, feeling like he was somewhere between tears and joyful giggles. But nothing compared to when Evan demonstrated the use of it. Tony sat in complete silence, something the billionaire seldom managed, while Evan answered question after question. They were simple questions, mostly things about Tony's past. First girlfriend, first invention.

Then Tony asked, "Can the alethiometer answer a more complicated question?"

Evan shrugged. "I don't know. The complicated questions have complicated answers, and sometimes I can't understand what it is trying to show me."

Tony nodded, and said, "Can you try?"

"Sure," Evan said, his young face serious as he flipped to the detailed list of the symbol meanings. Each symbol had many, many levels of meanings, each more complex than the last. The first level was typically whatever the symbol appeared to be. He looked at Tony. "What do you want to know?"

"You know Bucky, right?" Tony said.

Evan nodded, and said, "He's the one Peter photograms."

Tony said, "I've been working on something called Ultron. I'm not going to get into the technical details because I'll be speaking a different language, but in essence it is to be an artificial daemon for people who've lost their daemons and lived—like Bucky." He scratched his beard and said, "The thing is, I haven't had much luck getting the device to work. Or at least, not work the way it needs to work. Most people would be satisfied making the most advanced prosthetic arm in history, but that's not what I need. I need it to bring Dust into Bucky. Do you think you could see if there is some hint how that could happen out there in the aether?"

Evan got a thoughtful look on his face then opened the top cover of the alethiometer and stared thoughtfully at the symbols. As he started moving the hands, he said, "The Crucible stands for craft and gaining wisdom, and that's what you're looking for. You want to create an artificial daemon, which would be represented by the Bird. And you are doing this for Bucky…" He went silent, studying the device and glancing over his notes, before saying, "The Anchor means hope and healing. So…"

He fell silent, adjusting the hands to line up perfectly with the symbols, then took a deep breath. Evan's eyes drifted to half-mast, his pupils dilated large in his red eyes as the fourth hand started spinning, pausing on many symbols, fast and erratic. So fast that Tony's eyes couldn't keep up with where the dial paused.

Evan, on the other hand, felt like he was leaving his body as the world around him blurred into darkness, disrupted only by a bright, swirling flow of Dust and light. He could see in this maze of light an image of a mighty bear with dark brown fur, slowly circling Bucky Barnes. It reached for him, but could not touch, and Bucky's light dimmed and dimmed, almost to blackness.

Out of the darkness came a man of shadows. His human form did not conceal the sinister evil inside, an evil that seemed to grow more ancient each time the hand flickered on the Serpent. Evan could feel himself falling into that darkness, where the voices echoed and called out a name that was familiar as his own—En Sabah Nur—as the hand swung from the Crocodile (aggressive greed), The Apple (vanity), and the Sun (dominance).

The vision spread, and Evan could see the whole planet, and see himself (or En Sabah Nur) holding the globe as the hand on the alethiometer continued to swirl and shadows surrounded him, enveloped him, consumed him…

Evan's eyes suddenly went wide, and he found himself in the room with Tony Stark sitting across the table. Wade and Peter were still conversing over by the window, their daemons snuggled together like they always seemed to be lately. No one had noticed that he had completely stepped out for a minute.

He set the alethiometer on the table and said, "I… I'm not sure what it was trying to say about Bucky. I'm sorry."

Tony smiled and said, "No worries. You've been doing this for, what? Three weeks?" Then he turned serious, and said, "Just keep that stuff about Susan to yourself."

Evan laughed, and hoped that it looked convincing.

It must have been enough, because no one seemed to notice. Wade was relieved that the photogram was over, and Bob and Gwen were resuming their cuddling. Celestia was the only one who took notice of his somewhat disturbed state, and she jumped up into his lap in her rabbit form. She was spending more and more time in that body, and Evan wondered if that is how she would settle.

Really, Evan hoped that she would settle as something gentle like a rabbit, rather than something aggressive. People with daemons who were in the form of prey animals weren't the type to try and take over the world.

***

Evan went to bed almost immediately after dinner. It was a pretty busy day, especially after the photogram. Evan helped with some of the dark room work and they all watched the finished results with awe and confusion. Tony and Peter fell into discussion about the different anomalies that appeared and how to proceed with their study of the Dust in the image.

Getting back to the suite felt like a relief, and Wade immediately went to work cleaning his guns and doing everything he could to keep his mind occupied. Every idle moment, the only thing he could think about was the photogram. He was happy to help Peter with his research, but it was still stressful.

Well, maybe the kiss thing was a little bit of his stress too..

Okay, more the kiss than anything else. He did a pretty good job of putting it out of his mind for the better part of a week, which was easy enough when they were both too busy to talk to each other. Peter had been busy with Tony, and he and Natasha had been working on security.

Natasha had heard nothing concerning Clan Akkaba. If they were out there, the witches were doing a good job at keeping a low profile. Especially after Evan's flashback, Wade hoped that she would have some good news.

Then she told him that Shiklah was eager to see him soon, and Wade discovered that guilt was possibly his primary emotion. Even if Shiklah wanted him to go forth and find his happiness, it wasn't why he was at Stark Institute. He left home to do a job. He was on a mission. He had responsibilities, not just to his family, but to provide Evan with a safe environment until Cluster (who no one had seen or heard from) arrived to take care of the boy.

So Wade had to push the thoughts of Peter out of his mind. He had to stay focused.

Then there was a knock, and Wade set aside his gun oil. He knew who was on the other side before he opened the door. In the hall, Peter was waiting with Gwen peeking out of his pocket. The young man smiled at him, and Wade felt that little bloom of warmth that threatened to betray his resolve to not be distracted.

"Hey," Wade said, watching as Gwen jumped down to meet Bob, who was at Wade's feet. That was the hard part; Bob seemed to be just as attached to Gwen as he was with Shiklah's daemon. Wade leaned against the doorframe and asked, "What's on your mind, Spidey?"

Peter held out a bag that smelled of rich roast coffee, and said, "My aunt sent this to me, but I don't have a coffee pot. And since you're always brewing in here in the morning, I figured you could use it."

Wade looked at the bag, and said, "Don't you have a coffee pot in your lab?"

"Yeah, I do, but," Peter paused and ran a hand back through his fluffy hair. "I figured maybe I could join you for coffee instead of burning it down in my lab. Maybe. If you want. I… It's just a thought."

Wade accepted the bag, and felt his level of guilt rise a little more. He sighed and said, "Look, Peter, I appreciate this. I do, but I'm not sure what is happening here. I mean, with the thing the other night and—"

"It's okay," Peter said, his face turning a little pink and his smile faltering. "The thing the other night… I shouldn't have… I didn't want… I…" Peter cleared his throat and said, "I just wanted to bring you some coffee. That's it."

The guilt was an ever changing thing, because now Wade wanted to wipe the disappointment off Peter's face. He looked down at the coffee, and said, "The thing the other night wasn't a bad thing. I enjoyed it. It's just that my priority is taking care of Evan. Anything else is out of the cards right now."

Peter nodded. "I understand. I… I just wanted to make sure that we're, uh, you know, cool with each other."

"Yeah. We're cool," Wade said with a grin. He shook the coffee, and said, "And you can come by for coffee any time you want. Hell, if you're in the mood to get buzzed I'll brew a pot right now."

Peter laughed, and said, "No. I'm good right now." He smiled, feeling relieved. "Thank you, Wade."

"For what?" he asked as he set the coffee aside.

"For being honest," he answered. Then he chuckled and added, "Also for not punching me in the face, because I wasn't exactly sure you were, uh, interested?"

Wade laughed. "I'm interested, just, like I said."

Peter nodded.

A sort of awkward silence fell between them, both standing in the doorway alternately looking at each other and glancing at their snuggling daemons, then back. Finally, Wade stepped towards Peter and kissed his cheek, and said, "See you in the morning."

***

Up in Tony's quarters on the top floor of the institute, Steve Rogers sat beside Tony watching the digital version of the photogram that they had produced. At first, Steve was annoyed that Tony's idea of "movie night" was to watch a mercenary's Dust signature. Steve watched every single image produced of Bucky, but didn't really have much interest in the other aspects of the research, mainly because it made little sense to him. But Tony insisted that it was something Steve would want to see.

Steve slouched back, one arm slung over the back of the couch behind Tony's neck, hand stroking through the curls at the inventor's temples, the other hand digging into the popcorn bowl in his lap. Once a week, Steve managed to suppress his guilt long enough to spend an evening with Tony. Even if Bucky wouldn't notice if he was there or not, it felt like betrayal to enjoy himself with Tony while Bucky was at home with Nurse Carter. Sometimes he couldn't bear to see Peggy and Pepper laying together on the rug.

Before Siam, Bucky and Steve had promised that they would be together until the end of the line. Neither thought that the end of the line would look like this. They made plans to get a place together after the war. Bucky joked about buying a bar in Brooklyn in their old neighborhood and making Steve wear a barmaid outfit. Steve wanted to teach art classes, and swore he'd have Bucky naked in his studio six days out of seven.

Now, Steve was hoping for a miracle, and if that miracle happened, he didn't know what he would do. Because as much as he tried, he couldn't help the things he felt for the genius under his arm. Those feeling snuck up on him, and he spent a long time denying they even existed. Then he did give in, and the guilt was practically debilitating. He spent days avoiding Tony, and nights unable to sleep because he felt like he had broken a promise.

Nurse Carter advised him to attend a weekly support group for the spouses of people suffering from dementia. Many of them were elderly, having spent half a century with someone who no longer remembered their lives together. Not all had chosen to pursue another relationship, but the ones who did said that the most important part was to keep the care of their spouses as a top priority. And, if at all possible, find ways to integrate the new love into the other relationship.

It took a while, but Steve eventually found the courage to talk to Tony about his guilt and his emotions, and Tony promised that he would never put any pressure on him. In the end, Tony seemed to triple his effort in trying to find a cure for oblation and daemon death. He spent a couple evenings a week at the small house in Massena. Tony still worked, but just the fact that he left his workshop demonstrated how much he cared.

"Are you paying attention?" Tony asked, looking up at him.

Steve did his best to play off how deep he'd been in his thoughts, but he knew it didn't work with the way Tony smiled. Steve focused on the screen, looking at the way light swirled around the mercenary. He knew from Tony's excited explanation that it was exceptional. Still he asked, "Why are we watching this?"

"You missed it, didn't you," Tony said. He sighed as if heavily put upon, and grabbed the remote to back up the photogram. He pushed play, and said very sternly, "Now, pay attention. You want to see this."

Steve watched. It was toward the end of the photogram, and Wade was standing, looking like a flame on the screen with the way the Dust swirled around him. Peter was near him, and the two figures appeared to be speaking to each other. Then Wade reached towards him, and the moment the figure of his Dust-hand touched Peter, Peter flared bright.

"What…" Steve said, sitting forward and almost dropping the popcorn bowl. "What just happened?"

"Yet another confusing moment from the conundrum that is Deadpool," Tony said. He backed up the photogram, then started the playback at 10% speed at the moment Wade touched Peter. He spoke as the image slowly unfolded, and said, "It seems that, in some ways, Dust operates like electricity. If something with a high charge encounters something with a low charge, the two equal out. It's something I've theorized, but haven't seen proof of. At least, not on this scale."

"Peter's Dust level went up because Deadpool touched him," Steve said.

Tony nodded. "Exactly."

Steve asked, "What does it mean?"

"It's practical proof that Ultron—if it gains a high enough concentration of Dust—will transfer that Dust into Bucky," Tony said. He smiled seeing the hopeful look in Steve's eyes, and he added, "More importantly, Wade's biology could give us a hint at what direction to take in generating the Dust we need to make it a viable daemon."

"That's…" Steve didn't know what to say, so he pulled Tony into a tight hug. He kissed his hair, and said, "You are brilliant."

"I'm also oxygen deprived," Tony said against the wall of muscle that was Steve's chest.

Steve laughed and lessened his grip but did not let go. He gazed into Tony's dark brown eyes, and said, "Thank you. For everything you've done."

"Thank me when I've succeeded," Tony said with a smirk. "Right now, I'm just trying to figure out which way to go. Evan tried to find answers with the alethiometer today, but it was too complex of a question to answer."

Steve kissed him and rested his forehead against Tony's as he said, "You'll figure it out. And when you do, you'll change the world."

Tony was about to go in for another kiss, but was stopped by the clearing of a throat.

Steve jumped to his feet, putting himself between Tony and whatever interloper had found their way into Tony's quarters. He relaxed minutely seeing Charles Xavier in all his disheveled glory standing by the door. Tony frowned and said, "What are you doing here, Chuck?"

Charles walked to the decanters of whiskey and said, "I want to discuss Evan and the vision he had this afternoon while attempting to answer your question." He filled a glass, and said, "Believe me when I say that the Dust of that mercenary is substantially less interesting."

"You were in the room, weren't you," Steve said.

"Being able to block people's perception allows me a certain amount of freedom," he said in response. He took a sip of expensive bourbon, and said, "It also allows me to observe people in their natural state. And Evan… That boy is quite exceptional."

"Peter says he's a fast learner," Tony said, frowning as Chuck refilled his glass.

"Oh, he's more than that," Chuck said as he put the stopper back in the decanter. "Evan is by far the most interesting person in this building. It is no wonder Erik wants him so badly."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

Chuck looked at both of them, a little confusion on his face. "Neither of you see it, do you?"

The look on their faces answered his question, and Chuck continued, "He's En Sabah Nur, and since you obviously have no clue, I'll give you the quick version. He was the first mutant, born around 6,000 or so years ago, and every mutant alive today can trace their heritage back to him."

"He's a kid," Tony said.

"He's a clone," Chuck replied flatly.

Steve cocked his head. "How—?"

"Mind reader," Chuck said, pointing at his head. "When the boy was attempting to read the alethiometer this afternoon, his mind opened up and I could see the deep, dark, subconscious things that are imprinted in his brain." He gave a bitter laugh, and said, "You are all wrapped up in Ultron, when Apocalypse is sleeping under your roof."

"What does that mean?" Tony asked.

Chuck said, "Do you know what Apocalypse really means? It is a revealing of things meant to be hidden. Though he doesn't realize it, young Evan saw the solution to your Dust problem. Or rather, he saw a place where the answer can be found." He downed the rest of his drink. "Perhaps ask Evan to read the alethiometer again. Sometimes, the answers are easier the second time around. But then again, the boy already knows this. He knows a great deal that he hasn't told anyone."

Steve said, "It sounds like you already know what the thing said. So spill it. What did it say?"

Chuck shook his head. "I'm not getting involved."

"Then why are you here?" Tony asked.

"Because you have the best bourbon." Chuck set glass on the bartop, and said, "You gentlemen have a good night. I'm going back to the river."

Chapter Text

There are many holidays celebrated throughout the world, but Stark Institute seldom bothered with them due to the religious aspect of the celebrations. Tony Stark, despite being a notorious workaholic, had a set of his own favorite days to celebrate and relax. Rather than St. Valentine's Day, Tony celebrated the Birth of Gallileo on the 15 of February.

July 12th was Carver's Day, in honor of George Washington Carver. The celebration was often marked by eating a lot of peanuts and sweet potatoes, usually culminating in a bonfire and fireworks made from soy-based propellants. Often Tony would open the Institute and invite local school kids and youth groups to come and learn about the scientist, who's day they are celebrating. It was yet one more thing that Tony Stark did that annoyed the Magisterium, and was cited during many of his hearings as proof that he was an immoral man.

In response, Tony added more celebration days to his calendar. Every month had some kind of event, though some were bigger than others. Carver's Day had become a favorite of many—probably because of the explosions and barbeque.

Peter told Wade and Evan about the upcoming festivities, handing them both a bag of honey roasted peanuts that he and Jessica Drew had made using some of the equipment in her lab. There were many uses for Bunsen burners.

Evan asked, "What is Carver Day?"

Peter beamed a smile. "I'm glad you asked!" Then he launched into an enthusiastic explanation of the life and work of George Washington Carver. Evan was fascinated by the man, especially hearing how he was born a slave and struggled to gain his education, and taught the practice of crop rotation to restore soils depleted by cotton growers. His life was dedicated, not to wealth, but to helping improve the lives of those less fortunate with his advancements and inventions.

The only thing that Evan wasn't particularly enthused about was having to be around other people during the festivities. Despite the vast size of the Institute, it was easy for Evan to forget that there were almost 100 researchers, students, and interns living on the grounds. The times that he was outside on the grounds were times that others weren't. He always went to the cafeteria when the regular crowd was gone, and other meals tended to happen in the suite or in the library.

It wasn't that Evan didn't want to be around everyone else; it was the fact that it was dangerous. Natasha made it clear that there were always Magisterium plants that somehow made it to the Institute. And no matter what, Evan stood out in a crowd. His gray skin, black lips and face markings, and red eyes made it impossible to blend in. The few times that he encountered other researchers and interns, he could feel their lingering looks. It was something he'd dealt with his whole life, but only now did it feel like looking different put him in danger.

As much as Wade and Peter tried to make life feel normal, Evan was never more aware of how far from normal his life was. Really, his life was never normal, at least not by the standards of most people. He grew up with people who were not his relatives, among people who lived outside the normal for even their own group. Clan Akkaba was strange in that their focus was not natural magic. They believed in Celestial magic, a school of witchcraft handed down from angels sometime in the distant past. They believed in Apocalypse.

They believed in him.

So when he heard Peter talking about family picnics with his mom and dad, or baking cookies with his aunt, it was as foreign to him as the far side of the moon. Wade, on the other hand, was someone Evan could actually identify with. Their stories were quite different, but the sentiment was the same. Neither of them blended in, and neither had any place in the "normal" world.

Sometimes Evan wished that Wade would be his guardian permanently. Jean-Philippe Cluster was a vague memory. He was just some guy who showed up one day and took him to Kansas. Evan didn't remember his life before that day; he was very young. In the intervening years, he only knew Cluster from letters and gifts, and the occasional visit that lasted only a few hours. Even knowing that Wade was on Cluster's payroll, the mercenary had showed him more kindness and affection than his own family ever had. Wade wasn't put off by tears or failures. He gave praise without prompting, and advice without contempt for Evan's lack of knowledge.

Thus, Evan was not afraid to tell Wade that he didn't feel comfortable going to the picnic on the courtyard. Wade just smiled and said, "No problem. I've never been much for crowds either."

Peter nodded, and said, "Do you want me to at least bring you some barbeque? Because seriously, the caterers Thor hired to handle the food are practically gods of roasting things."

"Sure," Wade said.

Evan had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the awkward way that the two looked at each other and tried to play off the way their daemons were so reluctant to part from each other. Gwen didn't just groom Bob; she kissed his beak and tickled under the soft feathers of his neck. Bob nibbled at her ears and nuzzled at her sides. It was obvious, just from their daemons, that Peter and Wade had some level of attraction with each other. While Gwen and Bob were very attentive with Celestia, it wasn't the same kind of affection.

When Peter finally departed, having to pick up Gwen and place her in his pocket, Wade sat at the desk with his bag of roasted peanuts with a sort of far away smile on his face. He noticed Evan looking at him, and Wade cleared his throat and said, "What?"

"What is the deal between you and my tutor?" Evan asked with a grin.

"Uh, nothing?" Wade said. Then he shrugged, and said, "I don't know. It's just a thing. Like a crush. You've had a crush on someone before, right?"

Evan shook his head. "No. Not really."

"Never?" Wade said, amazed. "Well, my little friend, when you have your first crush, you'll understand.."

Evan shrugged. "Maybe someday."

"Guess it's kind of hard to meet people when you're basically under house arrest," Wade said. He sighed. "I'm sorry things are this way. Hopefully Cluster will show up soon and whisk you off to the carefree life you deserve."

"That's not what I want, Wade," Evan said. He looked out the window at the big maroon tent set up in the courtyard and said, "I want to be like Carver. I want to help people. I want to do things that change the world and make it better." He frowned, and said, "I don't want people like Eric Lensherr to decide the future of the world, and I definitely don't want him to decide my future."

Wade nodded. "I agree."

They were both silent for a minute. Evan thought about his dreams, about all those times he saw himself standing above the fields of fighting soldiers and prostrate worshippers. He thought about En Sabah Nur, the slave who conquered the world. Apocalypse. Most of the time, he didn't believe the things that Ozymandias said. He didn't believe the dreams. Lady Margaret said that he didn't have the gift of prophecy. But Lady Margaret was dead, as far as he knew, and she was supposed to be the one who read the future.

Maybe everyone was wrong and nobody had any idea who he really was. That thought, as uncertain as it made him, also made Evan smile. He looked at Wade and said, "I've changed my mind. I'd like to go to the party."

***

With a bag of peanut-oil fried sweet potatoes in one hand and sweet potato punch in the other, Wade and Evan strolled around the courtyard. And after a stop at a face painting booth, Evan blended in just fine with the rest of the crowd. No one gave him a single curious look, and after a while Evan started to relax and enjoy himself. It was practically a carnival. A carnival with learning stations and so many peanuts it was unreal.

Turns out, the peanuts that Peter and Jessica had roasted with their bunsen burners was part of a competition among the interns to see who could come up with the best tasting peanuts. There were many submissions, all using a variety of interesting methods to roast their products.

Then there was the food. Wade was certain that he had died and gone to Valhalla with the spread inside the food tent.

Thor hired a group of caterers that went by the name Lady Sif and the Caterers Three. They were an award winning crew that prided themselves on their skills of smoking whole hogs and turkeys. It was the only place on the grounds that wasn't dedicated to peanuts. Except that their smoker was heated by biomass derived from peanut plants, which was indicated by a sign beside their workstation.

The pit-master was a large burly man named Volstagg with long red hair and matching beard. He was just unwrapping the hog and Sif was preparing items for the garnish. Sif was the most interesting of the catering crew. She looked about as comfortable in an apron as she would walking on cactus. Although she seemed right at home chopping up vegetables with her oversized knife. Fandral and Hogun were working on shredding roasted turkey and arranging turkey legs on platters for when the dinner began.

There was something about the four of them that felt familiar to Wade, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. In the end, the only thing he cared about was eating the pig with a side of turkey and an abundance of fried sweet potatoes. By the time they were done in the food tent, both Wade and Evan were a little sluggish and decided to find a spot on the grass to chill for a while until the roasted peanut judging began.

Peter joined them a little later, and the three reclined together under a large maple tree. Peter pointed out different people who were visiting the Institute, like Sam Wilson who was another war buddy of Steve Rogers, whose falcon daemon was currently sitting on Peggy's head. Then there was Scott Lang, an associate of Professor Janet van Dyne's husband, Hank. The two men worked together in nanoparticle research.

Then Peter sighed, and said, "And that's Jimmy, the gardener. He's an asshole, and I want to punch him but he scares me."

Wade looked in the direction Peter gestured and felt like his blood had turned to ice. It wasn't until Evan said, "What's wrong, Wade?" that Wade realized he was standing.

"Stay here," Wade said as he started walking towards the gardener, who was wiping his mouth with a napkin after tossing his paper plate in the trash. As he got closer, Wade's heart was pounding harder, and he did a mental checklist of the weapons he had on him: two guns, three knives, a collapsing billy club, and small canister of nerve gas.

Jimmy still had his back to him, but he went rigid when Wade was about five feet away. He stopped, sniffing the air, and started to turn just as Wade said, "Hi, Logan."

The gardener's daemon spun around, the little wolverine snarling and snapping at Wade. Jimmy on the other hand turned around slowly and said, "I don't go by that name anymore, bub. And I'd appreciate it if you remembered that."

Wade could see the way the skin on the back of Lo—Jimmy's hand moved. He smirked and said, "Now, now, Wolvie. Don't go all berserker rage on me when we've got company."

"I knew you were here," he said, his voice gruff as he stuck a cigar between his teeth. "I've seen you on the grounds with that kid."

"And you didn't even say hi?" Wade said with mock hurt. "Why, Wolvie. After all we've been through together. All the experiments and torture, I thought we really had something."

"Fuck you, Wade," the man formerly-known-as Logan said with a glare. "What's the story with the kid?"

"I'm protecting him," Wade answered. "I know it's a little different from what you remember me doing, but a couple decades can really change a man."

"I know," Jimmy/Logan said. "I was happy when I heard you got out. But this seems like you're back in again. Especially if what I've heard is true. That you showed up in the uniform."

"Sometimes the only way to save people is to get your hands dirty," Wade said. Then added, "You know what that's like."

Jimmy looked around to see if anyone was watching them, then said, "I tried to find you a few years ago for a job, but you were nowhere to be found. How'd you end up on this job?"

"Divine intervention," Wade answered. "Warren sent me."

Log—er—Jimmy said, "I almost forgot about him. Or it. Whatever that thing is."

Wade gestured over his shoulder to Evan, who was reading a pamphlet about advanced peanut-based polymers. "Warren says that kid is going to determine the future of the world."

Jimmy laughed, and said, "Figures."

"What?" Wade asked.

"It's just, remember that guy we met just after we got back from Siam? The one with the metal arm and that one glowing eye?" Jimmy waited to see if it would click with Wade.

Wade shrugged. "My memory is about as holie as Swiss cheese."

"I'm surprised you'd forget him," Jimmy said. Then he shrugged, and said, "Anyway, he claimed he was from the future. Called himself The Traveler, and said you would play an important role in the future."

Wade huffed a laugh. "That sounds very far-fetched."

"Yeah. I thought the same thing." Logan shrugged, and said, "Maybe he was right. How many people have the angels on their side?"

"They're not on anyone's side," Wade said with a sigh. Then he looked back and saw Peter looking at them. He said, "I better get back to my duties." Then he shook Logan's hand, and said, "Don't be a stranger, Jimmy."

Logan gave a hint of a smile and said, "Behave yourself."

Wade walked back to Peter, who looked very curious about the conversation the merc just had with the gardener. Wade sat down and said, "What did the peanut say to the elephant?"

Peter's brow scrunched and he laughed as he said, "I don't know. What?"

"Nothing," Wade answered, glancing at Evan, before adding, "Peanuts can't talk."

Peter nodded; he understood. Whatever just transpired would be explained when Evan wasn't present. So he switched the topic to the firework display happening after sunset and how peanuts can be turned into basically anything.

***

On the roof of the Institute, with just a little bit of sunlight left, Wade, Evan, and Peter joined up with Natasha, Thor, and Banner to watch the fireworks. Banner spent most of the day as he spent most days—in the observatory ignoring humanity. But Thor went to the panserbjorn as the sun started to set and apparently challenged him to a wrestling match—which the Scandinavian somehow won—and now the ice-bear was sitting on the roof, unironically drinking a 2-liter of Coke.

Tony was down at the platform with the pyrotechnic crew. If something was going to be blown up, he was going to be right in the middle of it.

A few minutes before the display was to start, Steve Rogers arrived with Bucky and Nurse Carter. The two led Bucky to a chair close to the railing by Wade and Evan, and propped him in place with a few pillows to keep him from falling sideways.

Wade and Evan went with Peter for the most recent photogram with Bucky and Steve. Wade felt awkward being there in Captain Roger's home. Seeing him with Bucky felt like seeing something very private. As spotty as his memory was, Wade remembered meeting Bucky and Steve during the Siam Conflict, and seeing him like this was a reminder of how lucky Wade was in the grand scheme of things. It also reminded him of why he was willing to be part of Project Ultron, especially if it meant helping people like Bucky.

Evan really enjoyed working with Peter's photogram equipment. He liked the meticulous process, and really loved the dark room work. According to Peter, Evan had a gift for it, as working with the crystals and chemicals requires a bit of finesse. In another week, Tony was going to start preliminary work with Ultron. The billionaire spent most of his time since Wade's photogram in his shop working with his robotics, and according to Peter, Tony planned to start testing soon.

Wade hoped it would work.

As the sun set, the peanut-based fireworks started to fly. Peter rambled about the different properties that were adjusted in the mix to make the colors and how the placement of the charges created the shapes. Wade loved listening to Peter talk science, even if most of the time he was speaking a different language. He was animated with his speech, making it obvious just how passionate he was about his chosen field. Wade imagined that if he were that enthusiastic about his work, he'd look like a psychopath. Context is everything.

Evan was enchanted by the fireworks. It was the first time he'd seen a fireworks display that didn't involve some kind of magic. He held Celestia in his lap, both jumping with each explosion, and letting out simultaneous, "ooohs" and "wows".

After a while, Peter fell silent, just watching the display. Occasionally, Wade would lean to him and say things like, "Where do peanuts go to get their gas tanks filled?"

Peter shook his head.

"A Shell station," Wade answered. While Peter chuckled at the dorky joke, Wade told another. "You ever hear the joke about the peanut butter?"

"No," Peter said.

"I'm not gonna tell you; you might spread it."

Peter rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're very punny."

"Where do peanuts go to have a few drinks?" Wade asked as another peanut-shaped firework exploded.

"The snack bar?" Peter answered.

"Correct!" Wade said. "Now it's your turn."

Peter laughed, and said, "I only know one peanut joke, and it is wildly inappropriate."

Wade's eyes brightened. "Oh, now you have to tell me."

"No," Peter said, still chuckling. "I really can't. It's… No."

"You're killing me," Wade said. He slouched against his arm, leaning closer to Peter and said, "Is the punchline 'deeznuts'?"

Peter barked a laugh, and said, "No. Actually, it's way worse than any of the deez nuts jokes."

Another bright explosion, and Wade looked like he was going to start begging. But before he could do any such thing, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and realized that Bucky was starting to droop forward. He made it just in time to keep him from falling face first into the roof. With the multicolor lights flashing all around, he and Steve carefully lifted Bucky back into the chair.

"Thanks," Steve said to Wade as he re-tucked the pillows.

Wade waved him off. "No problem." He put a hand on Bucky's shoulder, steadying him as Steve tucked another pillow onto his left side.

Though neither man noticed it right away, Bucky was staring at Wade's hand. His eyes were focused on the scarred knuckles and his brow was starting to furrow. Then, in a voice that was hoarse from years of disuse, he croaked out, "Stevie?"

Steve froze, his eyes going wide. Wade froze too, his hand still on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky looked from Steve to Wade, then jumped when the next round of mortars exploded colorfully in the sky. He gasped and grabbed Steve's arm, and almost shouted, "Stevie?"

"It's me," he said, putting his hand over Bucky's. "It's me, Buck."

Now no one was watching the fireworks. Everyone was standing around the normally catatonic man, all wearing the same expression of shock.

"I've been dreaming," Bucky said, his eyes wide and watering. "I've been dreaming, and I…" He looked down, suddenly realizing that his left arm was gone and he let out a strangled sound that almost hurt to hear. Then he clutched his shirt over his chest and gagged on the word, "Ida."

Wade let go of Bucky's shoulder as Bucky slumped forward against Steve's chest. He was sobbing and shaking, and kept saying the name of his daemon. Steve was crying, too, as the grand finale exploded behind them. No one even noticed the massive peanut with the Stark Institute logo sparkling in the sky.

***

It was nearing 3 in the morning when Peter finished processing the photogram of Bucky, taken at the request of Steve and Tony. There was absolutely no doubt; Wade had transferred his Dust to Bucky. His Dust-level far exceeded the average, causing him to have a sudden recovery from his years-long vacant silence. Tony looked like he was about to explode from this new data, and Steve looked like he wanted to die.

At the moment, Bucky was sedated. His grief became so overwhelming that he was literally choking and on the verge of a stroke. Nurse Carter gave him a shot to relax him, and he was currently sleeping in the Institute's medical unit. Really, truly sleeping. For years when he was asleep, he was perfectly still. Now, he dreamed. His eyes moved behind his eyelids and his body jerked from the impulses in his brain. Every now and then, he would make small, terrified sounds and Steve couldn't stand it.

"We can't do this, Tony," Steve said. His eyes were red from crying and face pale. "We can't."

"He's had a shock," Tony said softly, smoothing his hand down Steve's bicep. "Give it time. He needs to come to terms with what's happened to him."

"What if he can't?" Steve demanded, stepping away from Tony. "What if all of this… What if we're just making it worse? Waking him up like that—"

"It was unexpected for everyone," Nurse Carter said. "Tony's right. You need to give him time."

"Time won't bring Ida back," Steve said, tears again falling down his face.

Wade cleared his throat and said, "Not that I matter much to this discussion, but I do know what it's like to wake up without my daemon." Now with all eyes on him, Wade held Bob against his heart, and said, "It's the worst feeling in the world. All I wanted to do was die when they killed Vanessa."

Peter blinked. "Vanessa? Your first daemon?"

Wade nodded. "She was a floppy-eared pooch. Always telling jokes. She kept me sane when my old man would get a little too rough with me and my mom, and..." Wade closed his mouth and took a deep breath through his nose, before continuing. "It took a while. Like two months, but she came back just as she was, except she looked just as mangled and tortured as I was at the time. We were put through a lot of hell."

"How many times has your daemon been killed?" Peter asked, fighting hard to keep the lump in his throat from choking out his words.

"That I remember?" Wade shrugged. "I don't know. Nineteen? Twenty? Maybe more. Probably more. Bob's been with me for almost a decade now, though."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "You have a healing factor, don't you."

Wade nodded. "I wasn't born with it, but yeah. I do. Now." Tony opened his mouth, but Wade cut him off, saying, "Yeah, I'll let you analyze my blood. But my healing factor happened because of decades of experiments. It's not something that can just be handed off or transferred. I look like this for a reason."

Again, before Tony could say anything, Steve said, "We're not doing a damn thing without Bucky's permission. Not when he is conscious and can say yes or no."

Tony nodded, and said, "Of course."

One quick blood draw later, and Wade and Peter walked back to their floor. Wade hesitated at his door, a haunted look in his eyes that wasn't going away. Seeing Bucky wake up like that brought back a lot of memories that he wished were still lost in the holes of his mind. He leaned against the door frame, and said, "It still hurts."

Peter put a hand on Wade's back, and felt terrible seeing the way he jumped at the touch. He moved his hand in soothing circles, and he said, "Does anything make it better?"

"Not really." Wade looked down and could see Gwen standing near his foot, looking up at Bob. Though he didn't really want to do it, Wade put Bob beside her, and the two immediately disappeared behind the curtain of Bob's wing. Times like this is when Bob tended to harm himself, scratch at his body with the claws of his feet or rip feather out of his chest until his body was a bare and raw—just like Wade felt.

But Gwen was soothing him. Wade wished he could let Peter do the same. It was obvious that was what Peter wanted to do. The only thing keeping Wade from latching onto the younger man and sobbing was his desire to maintain his cool. He had a job to do, dammit, and falling apart over shit in the past was not in the job description.

They stood in the hallway for a long time, just silently sharing space until Wade finally said, "We need to get some sleep."

"Yeah," Peter said. Reluctantly, he stepped away from Wade and knelt down to pick up Gwen, who was making soft sniffling sounds. He wished, not for the first time, that he was good at comforting people. That he had any idea at all what to say, but he was drawing a blank as Wade picked up Bob and started to open his door.

Suddenly, Peter remembered something. He blurted, "You want to hear that joke?"

Wade straightened up and tried to smile, but it faltered and vanished as he said, "Sure. Tell me your joke."

"It's the most vile, horrible joke ever. I mean it. It really is, and you're going to probably punch me."

Wade smirked. "With a preamble like that, it damn well better be."

Peter's face turned pink and his ears burned as he said, "What's the difference between peanut butter and jam?"

"I have no idea," Wade answered.

"I can't peanut butter my cock down your throat."

Wade's eyes went wide and he burst out with laughter. Peter hid behind his hand as Wade kept chuckling, and the merc said, "My god, Peter Parker. Do you kiss your mama with that mouth? Oh my stars and garters, that… That was priceless. Dirty little Spidey."

"I told you it was horrible," Peter said, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Thanks," Wade said after a deep breath and another round of giggles. "I needed that."

Peter backed to his door and, still giggling, said, "Goodnight, Wade."

Chapter Text

Peter and Wade sat on the roof of the Institute, nothing but stars above them in the soft heat of a summer night too warm for a blanket, but cool enough to be close without being uncomfortable. Wade had his eye to a telescope, looking at Jupiter while Peter talked about the moons and rings and red spot, giving a textbook version of what he felt was the most beautiful thing in the night sky.

For some reason, Wade was naked. But then again, so was Peter. Even that felt comfortable, and while Peter wanted to keep talking about astronomy, he was far more interested in mapping the constellations of scars that covered Wade's glowing body.

"You're so full of Dust, you shine," Peter said as he took in the full glory of the merc, who was still studying the planet through the lens. Taking a chance, Peter touched Wade's knee. He let out a soft, pleased sound and turned towards Peter with his eyes glowing like gold in sunlight.

Wade kissed him, and Peter felt himself being filled with light. It swept through him until it was pouring out his own eyes and nose and fingertips. He felt like he was kissing the sun. Everything felt like it was fading as he became brighter. Lighter. He was floating in the stars. Peter didn't want it to end. He wanted to always be in that moment of weightless light and joy.

"This has to be a dream," Peter said as Wade moved to straddle his lap. The merc's skin was super-heated; his mouth searing as he nipped at Peter's neck and shoulder. "You are weightless, and I'm glowing. Glowing is not a typical human phenomenon, at least without some kid of augmentation."

"You're getting too technical," Wade said, though his voice sounded strangely like Gwen. "Stay in the moment. This is going to be good."

Then his cell phone was buzzing, and Peter woke half-humping the mattress. He shook his head, swept back the hair from his face and grabbed the phone with a slurred, "ThisisPeter."

"I need you to come down to the garage." It was Tony, and he sounded wide awake. The man was probably a quarter caffeine. "Five minutes."

"Tony, I—"

"Five minutes," Tony repeated, then hung up the phone.

"Dammit," Gwen whined from her pillow.

Peter groaned and pushed his face into the pillow and said, "That dream was starting to get good."

"I'm going to bite Pepper," Gwen said with the same amount of annoyance. "You never have good sex dreams. That was going to be yummy."

"You're terrible," Peter said. He got out of bed and grabbed lounge pants and a t-shirt, then slipped into his flip-flops and headed out the door. And if his eyes lingered on Wade's door a little before exiting the hall, that was his business.

The clock in the lobby said it was just after 7am, and Peter wanted to remind Tony that sleep might not be important to him personally, but sleep was something Peter greatly valued. Peter planned an entire lecture, except that when he entered the garage, Peter couldn't quite wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

"Are you wearing a robot?" Peter said as he walked into the workshop.

Tony turned towards him as best he could with his lower half trapped in a pair of robotic legs with one arm suspended in the air and trapped inside a metal exoskeleton. Pepper sat on the floor, giving Peter a look that he could only describe as long-suffering. Tony motioned for Peter to come closer, and Peter could tell just by the gesture that Tony had been drinking. The inventor said, "I sorta got caught up in this thing. Couldn't really… I fucked up. I just need you to push that button over there."

Peter walked across the room to the control station, and after a minute of study, he found the disengage button that released Tony from his trap. The billionaire collapsed to the floor and remained there a little too still, and Peter went to him, diving to his knees to check for injuries. Tony was not unconscious, but he was too drunk to move without assistance.

After extracting the rest of the inventor from his robotics, Peter half carried Tony to sit in the rolling chair by his workbench. This was a mistake, and Peter once again had to scoop Tony off the floor after he decided to roll backwards and somehow ended up under the table with his feet in the air. Peter moved him to the desk chair, propping it to keep it from swivelling too much, and then went to the coffee maker to start a pot.

"I don't want coffee," Tony pouted as he opened his desk drawer and fumbled around for a bottle of cheap booze he had stashed behind his ink pens. He unscrewed the cap, but Peter snatched it out of his hand before he could take a sip. Tony looked very put out, and said, "You're not my favorite anymore."

Peter sniffed the bottle, and said, "This smells like gasoline."

"Fuel for a sex machine," Tony said, laughing at his own joke before his smile fell into a frown. "Why do I do this to myself?"

"Because you have a problem with self control?" Peter ventured.

Pepper nodded and flopped on the floor. Gwen jumped down into the pillow of her fur, and crawled to the top of her head to massage the spot of tension between her eyes. The fox looked very pleased, and made a soft humming sound.

Tony slouched, resting his head against the back of the chair. "You ever get involved with someone, knowing it's going to totally fuck your entire life, but you do it anyway because your luck can't seriously be that fucking bad, but then it is, and it is, and I should be happy right now. Shouldn't I? Why aren't I happy? I mean, fuck… A year. I've been working on Ultron for a year, and we've solved it. Mostly. At least fuckin' Bucky is, you know, here?"

"It's a breakthrough," Peter agreed. "We still need to figure out how to get the machine to concentrate Dust. Lots of work to be done still."

"Yeah," Tony said, drawing out the word. He fell silent for a few seconds and closed his eyes, breathing through his nose, his knee bouncing. "Did you see the look on Steve's face? Like… it was his worst day ever. And I should be with him right now. I should be, but I can't because he's guilty. He's always guilty. He's fucking ashamed of the whole me and him thing. And Bucky doesn't know. Bucky has no idea, but Steve will feel guilty forever and regret me just like everyone else."

Peter didn't know what to say. Then again, Tony wasn't looking for answers or comfort. Not from Peter. Maybe not from anyone. Tony wasn't a sharing-emotions kind of guy. So Peter sat with him, listening as Tony recapped everything from the beginning again, rambling and repeating himself until he looked up at Peter and said, "Why does Deadpool call you Spidey?"

"It's just an old nickname," Peter said with a shrug. "Why?"

"It's just funny," Tony said. He chuckled and resumed his slow swivelling. "How bad of a person am I, really, for hating that Deadpool was the solution all along? Because I kind of hate him right now."

Peter smirked, and said, "You're also pretty drunk right now, and in a few hours you're going to be hating everyone in equal measure."

"To-fucking-che," Tony said. "What about the coffee? You said something about coffee."

Peter looked at the coffee pot, and there was still nothing dripping out of it. It wasn't even making noise. Then he realized he hadn't turned the machine on, and he wanted to cry a little. Instead he got up and went to the pot. "My coffee is the worst. It always gets burned. I should get Wade to make coffee. His coffee is perfection."

Tony grinned. "Is it inappropriate to ask if his ass is perfection? Because he looks built."

"I know nothing of his ass," Peter said, internally cursing himself for how his face heated up. He was 25 years old. Old enough to be past all this blushing bullshit. The machine started gurgling, and Peter said, "Not that I'm opposed to investigating his ass's perfection. Just, you know."

"He's a scary mercenary and you're scared of his scariness?" Tony said, chuckling.

"No." Peter grabbed a coffee cup with the big Stark Institute logo on the side, and said, "He's on a mission here. He doesn't have time for anything else."

"Right," Tony said. He was quiet until Peter started to pour. "You know, Steve said the same thing to me. He was all 'I've been assigned by the Magitristra-er-Magistererumrum. Fuck! My mouth isn't working. The fucking Magisterium. I can't break their pansy rules about whatever the fuck'."

"Is that verbatim or paraphrased?" Peter asked as he handed off the cup.

"Fucking paraphrased," Tony said as he accepted the coffee. "Steve is well spoken and wholesome, and doesn't say 'fuck' even in the correct context."

"There's a reason he's the Star-Spangled Man," Peter said.

"He hates that song," Tony said.

Peter poured himself a cup and took a sip, then grimaced and grabbed the sugar. He put a generous amount into the exceptionally strong brew, then held the sugar out to Tony, who covered his cup with his hand and shook his head. After a minute, Tony removed his hand, and a small cloud of steam poofed up towards his face.

"You should probably think about sleeping," Peter said.

Tony said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the coffee in his cup. He again put his palm over the cup, then removed it and another puff of steam appeared. He started to repeat the process again, and Peter said, "Do you want me to clean off your couch?"

"I want…" Tony paused. His brow scrunched, head slowly tilting in that way he did when he was in deep thought. Then he looked up at Peter, blinking a couple times before saying, "Can you bring your Dust camera to the lab?"

***

Steve woke with a start, certain that someone had said his name. Certain it was Bucky. It took a moment of stretching in the uncomfortable vinyl chair before he remembered he was in the medical unit at Stark Institute, and Bucky's silver eyes were looking at him from where he lay in the hospital bed.

"Steve," he said again, his voice soft and creaking.

Steve walked to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Bucky's eyes followed his every movement, clear and alert. He took Bucky's hand in both of his, and asked, "How long have you been awake?"

"I don't know," Bucky answered, looking up at him through the veil of his hair. Steve swept his dark locks out of his face. "You… You didn't leave."

"No," Steve said, a small smile on his face. "I wanted to make sure I was here when you woke up."

"That not—" Bucky's voice cracked and he fell into a coughing fit. Steve was quick to pour a glass of water and hit the button to raise the head of the bed. Out of habit, Steve held the glass up to Bucky's mouth, and almost dropped the cup when Bucky attempted to take it out of his hand. Eventually, Bucky managed to get a few drinks.

Steve smiled, and said, "Better?"

Bucky nodded.

"Good." Steve set the glass aside, and looked at Bucky expectantly. After all this time, Steve only wanted to hear the man speak, to know what was happening inside his head, and know what he was feeling. It had been years of silence, and Steve didn't want to keep him from a single syllable.

Bucky lay back against the bed. "I meant to say, I know you never left me. Ever."

Steve again took his hand.

"It really was like a dream," Bucky said, looking down at their entwined fingers. "I could see you and hear you, but I couldn't… I don't know how to explain it. I was trapped." He looked up at Steve, who was doing his best to hold back his tears. "You never left me. You were with me every single day, and there is nothing I can ever do to thank you for that."

Steve looked down, the tears finally finding their escape from his eyes. He was being torn between extreme happiness and self-loathing, and in the end the only thing he could do was hug the man whom he had loved since he was a kid. Steve cried, and Bucky's arm wound around him, rubbing circles on his back. Then Bucky kissed Steve's cheek, and Steve couldn't remain silent any more.

"I haven't been as good as I could have been to you," Steve said as he sat up and wiped his cheek with the back of his fingers. "The last few months… I've—"

"I know about Tony," Bucky said, still smiling. "I told you, I've seen and heard everything. Including your tearful confessions and apologies. I know. And I'm happy."

"You should hate me," Steve said softly.

"For what? Being human?" Bucky laughed, and it was music in the air. "I've seen Tony. I don't blame you. Dark hair, ruggedly handsome. Seems like your type of fella."

Steve still couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I've missed you."

"Come here," Bucky said as he tugged Steve forward. Then he smirked and said, "I hope you don't feel so guilty you won't kiss me."

Steve shook his head and laughed. "I've really missed you."

Kissing Bucky felt as natural as breathing and as frightening as the first time when they were kids and scared someone would catch them. Now, as then, it was Bucky who kept Steve from fleeing in terror, and it was Steve who stopped to look around.

"It's good to know nothing ever changes," Bucky said with a chuckle, pressing another kiss to Steve's lips before sitting back and saying, "So when do I get to meet your billionaire, playboy, inventor guy?"

Steve shook his head, and said, "I'd rather just be with you for now."

Bucky smiled, squeezing Steve's hand. "I need to meet him. I need to tell him thanks. I need to make sure this fella's the right guy for you, punk. And I need to do it before my head gets blurry again."

"Okay," Steve said softly, managing a smile even though the idea of Bucky dissolving back into himself was shattering. Steve stood and helped Bucky to his feet.

The years of only walking short distances and very little exercise left Bucky's body weak and his joints stiff, even with the daily exercises performed by Steve and Nurse Carter. They moved slowly, Bucky doing his best to not show how exhausted each step made him. The distance to the end of the hall felt like miles, and Bucky had to take a break when they arrived at the elevator.

The two of them sat on a cushioned bench, Bucky leaning heavily against Steve, and Steve's arm around Bucky's waist, both to keep him in place and to just feel closer. Peggy lay on the side opposite Bucky, keeping her distance as she became accustomed to doing over the years. Steve didn't want her to be in Bucky's line of sight, afraid it would somehow add to his suffering.

Bucky could still see her, though. And more than this, he could remember what it was like to hold Peggy in his arms. It was very inappropriate to ever touch another person's daemon—at least without their permission. Touching another's daemon was an intimate act, much more intimate than sex for most. To touch another's daemon was to touch their soul physically. It was an act of trust, and Bucky could still remember the feeling, and the way Steve shivered. Simultaneously, Bucky remembered the electricity that went through him when Steve held Ida, how his whole body filled with warmth and the air seemed to smell of ozone.

"Ida," Bucky whispered.

Steve's arm tightened around him.

About that time, Wade came around the corner with Evan at his side, both carrying cups of coffee. Evan's daemon was in the form of small doe with a white-spotted rump. Bob sat on Celestia's back, appearing to enjoy the ride.

"Good morning," Wade said. He held out a cup to Steve, and said, "I figured I'd see how you're faring."

"What's in it?" Bucky asked.

Wade had a moment of surprise hearing Bucky speak, considering all he could do the night before was gibber and sob. Then his brain cleared, and he said, "Just coffee. Black."

"Good," Bucky said, and accepted a cup from Wade. He opened the lid and inhaled deeply, before saying, "I have missed coffee. Thank you."

"Any time," Wade said.

Steve smiled, watching Bucky enjoy the simple pleasure of coffee, which he couldn't deny was pretty damn good. The idea that his time might be limited made Steve want to give him every little hint of pleasure available.

"Are you going down to the laboratory?" Steve asked.

Wade nodded. "Yeah. Peter sent me a text a little bit ago, figured I'd make a delivery. Guess he and Tony have some project happening."

"We're on our way to talk to Tony, too," Bucky said.

"Is this one of those conversations little ears shouldn't be present for?" Wade asked, gesturing to Evan.

"Seriously, Wade?" Evan said with an eyeroll.

"Bucky just wants to meet him." Steve chuckled, and added, "I doubt it is anything Evan hasn't been subjected to, being around you."

"Hey!" Wade said with mock hurt. "I resemble that remark."

Bucky cocked his head to the side. "Have we met before?"

"He's been working with Tony's assistant," Steve answered.

"Oh," Bucky said, though he still looked to be in deep thought. Then he shrugged and downed the last of his coffee and said, "Let's move."

Wade and Evan walked ahead of them, keeping a slow pace to match with Steve and Bucky. Bucky seemed to be a little more peppy, be it because of the rest or the coffee. He still hung on to Steve's arm, but that was more out of a need to feel human contact than anything else. It was one thing to be handled; it was something else entirely to touch and be touched. Bucky was never a needy person, but the idea of not touching Steve felt frightening. Especially knowing that at some point in the future, he wouldn't be able to enjoy that touch anymore.

Upon entering the workshop, the four were greeted with a sight that was reminiscent of an explosion. There were parts of items scattered over every surface, all appearing to have originated from the central table, where Peter was holding a black casing on which Tony was soldering circuits. The two scientists were so wrapped up in their work, they didn't hear the door open or close, nor hear Steve pushing scraps out of the way as he emptied a seat for Bucky.

Tony finished his work, and studied the item a moment before saying, "That should do it. Stick it in the Stark-o-meter."

"I thought we were calling it the Peter Meter," Peter said with a chuckle.

Tony pointed at him using his soldering gun, and said, "No more jokes. None. In fact, no more speaking."

"Are you making up terms now?" Steve asked.

Peter looked exhausted, but he smiled and said, "We made things today. Lots of things." Then his eyes brightened seeing Wade. More specifically, seeing what was in Wade's hand. He quickly went to the strange conglomerate of parts that made up the Stark-o-meter, and put the device inside and started a cycle. Then he rushed over to Wade and took the cup of coffee out of his hand. He took a long drink, before saying, "You are my favorite person ever."

Wade smirked, and said, "You just like the way I grind my beans."

"Don't," Tony said, pointing a stern finger at Wade. "I'm starting to like you. So don't."

"I'm talking about coffee, you philistine," Wade said, chuckling.

Bucky's eyes brightened as he blurted, "I do know you!"

Tony, who was only vaguely aware that other people were in the room due to his haze of exhaustion, creative explosion, and hangover, hadn't noticed Bucky, and wasn't prepared to hear the man's alert voice. Nor was he prepared for the adorable Brooklyn accent that matched up perfectly to Steve's.

Wade, meanwhile, was looking at Bucky with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You were in Da Nang, right?" Bucky said, almost excited. "The Siam War?"

Wade nodded.

Bucky laughed, and said, "I knew it! You look a lot different with the scars, but it's the way you laugh, and the words you use." He looked down a moment, then snapped his fingers and said, "They called you the Merc with a Mouth, right?"

"Yeah," Wade said, feeling a little worried. He said, "I didn't think you remembered that. I mean, it was kind of a long time ago."

Bucky jabbed Steve in the side with his elbow, and said, "Remember? We went on that side op to rescue those three officers, and we wound up in the middle of a typhoon and had to stay in that weird little village north of Da Nang with that group of mercenaries. Ended up playing poker for like five days with that guy Stryker and his crew?"

Steve looked confused for a moment, then he looked at Wade and said, "You're that guy?"

Wade nodded. He remembered those few days well. More than anything, he remembered feeling a little star-struck at meeting the famous team of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. Wade was just a kid back then, barely 19 with no business being in that jungle, let alone running with Stryker (and Logan, among others). But he was pretty good at what they did, and that was killing people. The money was pretty good too.

However, Steve and Bucky were the good guys. The best of the good guys. They didn't do the dirtiest of the dirty work. And from the moment Wade saw Captain Rogers at the aerodock, he worried that the good Captain would remember their meeting in the jungle. Then again, Wade often remembered things a little backwards. Sometimes, he would remember himself already being part of the Brotherhood, except that the Brotherhood came after the cancer, and the jungle was way before that. Back when he was just the Merc with a Mouth, gaining a reputation for his dark sense of humor as much as his swordsmanship.

"You're old, aren't you?" Evan said with a laugh.

Wade nodded. "Yes. I'm very old."

"You know what they say," Peter said, giving Wade a pointed look.

Tony pointed at Peter and said, "No. Do not finish that. I don't care how it ends, I don't want to hear it." Then he gestured towards the contraption across the shop, and said, "Check the Peter Meter. If everything is stable, we're going to get this baby installed."

"Get what installed?" Steve asked, doing his best not to chuckle.

"Oh!" Tony downed the last of his coffee. "I forgot to tell you. Actually, I composed about 40 text messages to tell you, but Peter kept hiding my phone because apparently I was about to break some kind of etiquette or something, but anyway…"

Steve smiled, amused by Tony's rambling.

Tony pointed at a metal arm on the workbench, and said, "I have solved it. It happened this morning because of steam and my brain did that thing where I rabbit trailed and found the solution to the world's big questions."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"He means he figured out how to make Ultron gather and condense Dust," Peter said upon returning with the black object. It was very small, oblong, with a concave side. He held it out and said, "We decided since the material inside my Dust camera can block out Dust to give a clear image of a person's Dust signature, that it might be able to hold Dust. Turns out, we were right."

"And because it holds Dust, it can concentrate Dust," Tony continued. "See, all this time I wanted to make something that operated exactly like a daemon, producing a continuous stream of Dust. But nothing I did made it work. I was thinking about it wrong. Now, I'm not going to bore you with the technical advancements that had to be made in the last few hours just to make this possible—"

"We had most of the technology, just had to adjust the method of use," Peter interjected.

"—But the point is, with some lenses and a filter and this awesome black material, we can now concentrate Dust almost to the same level as what Wade produces," Tony finished. "Basically, this little device in my hand is a prosthetic daemon."

Tony handed it to Steve, and Steve looked the device over. "This is Ultron?"

"No," Tony said. "Ultron is what I'm calling my new line of intelligent limb-prosthetics. No, this is an Integrated Daemon Apparatus."

"I.D.A.," Bucky said, his hand immediately going to the place where the pain flared in his chest. "You named it Ida."

Tony nodded.

"How does it work?" Bucky asked.

Tony looked at Steve, then back at Bucky and said, "This is designed to be housed inside of an Ultron arm, and with the other components, it will monitor your Dust and pump it into you on regular intervals as needed. Plus, you'll have the most advanced artificial arm in the history of artificial arms." He paused, before saying, "That is, if you are willing to do this. It is entirely your decision."

Bucky looked at Steve, and Steve said, "You make the call."

Bucky was silent a moment before he finally nodded, and said, "Hell, why not? What do I have to lose at this point. Let's do it."

Tony beamed a smile that was matched by Steve. For a moment, the two looked at each other until Bucky shoved Steve into Tony. The billionaire immediately latched onto Steve to keep from falling, and Steve's arms found their way around him. It was an awkward hug, but it made Tony smile even wider.

"Thank you," Steve said. "For everything."

Tony, who was still off balance with his fingers dug into Steve's hips, said, "I keep my promises too."

Steve straightened them both up, and Bucky said, "When do we get started?"

"You need sleep first," Steve said to Tony.

Peter chimed in with, "We'll need to brief the medical team on the procedure, since, you know, we have to kind of wire Ultron into his central nervous system."

Bucky nodded. "So this thing's gonna be wired into me. Nifty."

"Very nifty. Could be the niftiest thing ever, and probably will win me another Nobel Prize. Possibly another Magisterium Hearing." Tony shrugged at Steve's somewhat concerned look. "It wouldn't be the first time. Or even the ninth."

***

When Dr. Jane Foster arrived with her small medical team for the briefing, Wade and Evan departed so that they could discuss the procedure in private. So for an hour or so, Evan worked with the alethiometer while Wade sat on the couch and read. He found a paper that Peter had published about advanced polymers derived from the chemical composition of spider silk. A lot of the jargon was confusing, but it was nonetheless interesting. Especially the diagram of a device to shoot these synthetic webs. Wade had to wonder if Peter built one.

Outside, the clouds were starting to gather for what was probably going to be a nice rain storm. Nothing was in the forecast, but that didn't mean mother nature couldn't brew up something on a whim.

Evan put the alethiometer in its box, and put it back in his bag, then turned his attention to Wade.

Wade looked up at him. "Yes?"

"You want to go for a run?" Evan asked.

Wade looked out the window and shrugged. "It kind of looks like rain."

"Are you going to melt?" Evan asked with a chuckle.

Wade gave his best half-hearted glare, and said, "No, mother."

The rain started shortly after they got on the trail. It was a nice, steady rain. The kind that farmers love and makes people really want to take a nap. Wade kept his pace steady, enjoying the chill of the rain in comparison to the warm summer air. Evan seemed to be content in the elements, now and then stopping to pick up the remnants of the peanut-fireworks from the night before that had landed on the path.

Celestia was also enjoying herself, splashing in every puddle they passed. Wade opted to leave Bob in the room, since the daemon didn't deal well with water. When Wade closed his eyes, he could see that Bob was seated at the window, keen eyes looking their direction. The more the rain soaked him, the more smug happiness Wade could feel coming from his daemon.

They reached the bench that marked the two mile point of the trail, and after tossing the trash in the receptacle, Evan was ready to go. The boy was at the point that he could run five miles without needing a break, thanks to Jessica's training. He'd learned to pace himself and control his breathing. When Evan sprinted, he was faster than Wade, though he still couldn't keep up with Jessica. Jessica was like lightning when she didn't hold back.

In addition to running, Wade had also started giving Evan self defense lessons. Wade didn't want to say it, but he knew that at some point, Evan would need to fight. Or at least, fight to escape from the Magisterium. He stuck with the basics—pressure points, weak spots, how to break holds—and only threw in a few extras like how to crush someone's windpipe and the proper way to crush someone's skull with the heel of a boot.

Peter found the skull-crushing in poor taste, but overall agreed with Wade's life motto: better to know and not need to, than to need to and not know.

In the almost 2 months since coming to Stark Institute, Evan had grown an inch and developed a bit of muscle. He also aged, though that had little to do with training and everything to do with trauma. There was a wary alertness to his eyes that no 12 year old should possess.

As they started down the hill that led to the river, the first rumble of thunder echoed through the air, and Wade came to a stop looking up at the sky. The clouds were getting dark fast, and he called to Evan, who had jogged ahead. "I think we should head back."

Evan turned, still jogging in place. "It's just a little thunder. I grew up in Tornado Alley. This is nothing."

Just then, a bolt of lightning struck the path ahead, and Evan jumped.

"With all these trees, we're in Lightning Rod Alley," Wade said when Evan got back to him. "We'll go 10 tomorrow to make up for being slackers."

Lightning streaked the sky again, followed by a loud roar of thunder. The storm was close, and so sudden it made Wade shiver. Or maybe that was just the cold wind that swept through the tunnel of trees that stirred up enough leaves and debris it was difficult to see very far ahead.

Another flash of lightning, and a tree fell across the path ahead, and Evan grabbed Wade's arm. He pointed ahead and shouted, "Did you see that!"

"Yeah, big tree," Wade said.

"No! That!"

Wade looked harder, and could almost make out the shape of someone in the driving rain. He whipped his gun out of the holster and shouted above the howling wind, "Don't fucking move another step."

Then a voice entered Wade's mind, soft as the flutter of butterfly wings, saying, "You are not in danger, Wade. Turn around."

Wade took a quick look over his shoulder and saw that the storm had disappeared behind them. When he looked back, the shape in the storm had emerged. It was a woman with lightning in her eyes, and electricity crackling in her fingertips and making the white strip of hair on her head shimmer. Her dark skin glowed with her power, and Wade knew immediately who she was.

"Ororo," Wade said, keeping the gun trained on the middle of her chest.

She nodded, and said, "Sorry for the theatrics, but we needed to conceal our landing."

"I guess the voice in my head is Psylocke," Wade said as he started to lower the gun. Ororo nodded, and he asked, "Bishop?"

"He's in Bolvanger," Ororo answered. "He lost his sanity."

"Do you really think Bolvanger is the best place for him to get it back?" Wade asked, frowning. He never really liked Bishop to begin with, but still.

"We're not here to discuss the mental health struggles of former teammates," Ororo said coldly. She gestured for Wade to follow her, and Evan grabbed Wade's arm.

"It's okay," Wade said. "I know these people."

Evan still clung to Wade as a small plane appeared out of thin air. Wade realized that it must have been telepathically concealed. He'd flown these planes before; they didn't have shimmer camouflage. The ramp lowered, and two figures were descending on it. Just judging by the legs, he knew one of them was Betsy Braddock, also known as Psylocke. The other he recognized by the fluffy white cat in his arms.

"Uncle Cluster?" Evan said, his grip tightening on Wade's arm.

"Bonjour, neveu," Jean-Philippe said with a smile. "Forgive my tardiness. I was quite delayed."

Chapter Text

There was a lot of things going through Evan's mind as Jean-Philippe Cluster began explaining his whereabouts since his meeting with Wade in the city of New Amsterdam. Many times over the weeks, Evan thought about what his reaction would be upon seeing Cluster. He thought he might be happy. Instead, he felt a growing sense of barely restrained anger as Cluster spoke.

Vacation. He was on vacation. The people who raised him were dead, and Jean-Philippe Cluster, his supposed "uncle", was on vacation in the Mediterranean, spending weeks on a boat with a model he met during fashion week in Paris in the Spring. He laughed and joked about his time away, and the more he talked, the angrier Evan became.

"Fuck you," Evan suddenly shouted. Everyone looked at Evan, Psylocke and Storm with shock, Cluster with confusion, and Wade with a hint of pride. Evan never used that word before, and it sent a shiver through him of pure exhilaration.

Frowning, Cluster said, "Pardon me, child, but that language is not necessary."

Evan's eyes narrowed and he repeated, "Fuck you, Cluster." He held Celestia, who transformed into a bobcat as he said, "The people who raised me were murdered, and you went on vacation?"

"I had to maintain a certain appearance," he answered calmly. "Had I come here at any other time, I would have raised suspicions."

"Suspicions?" Evan was seething. His voice started to shake. He shouted, "Do I even matter at all to you?"

"Of course," Cluster answered calmly, without a hint of emotion to back up the claim. "You are very important to me. I am sorry for the loss of those who raised you. It is a tragedy that I could not prevent. But I am here now, and I would like to take you to a more permanent safe haven that I have prepared."

Evan shook his head, preparing to shout more expletives, but Wade put his hand on Evan's shoulder, and he felt the fury ebb and his mind clear. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before asking, "Where is this safe haven?"

"I can't tell you that right now," Cluster answered. He gestured to Wade, and said, "You will not be able to bring Monsieur Deadpool with you." Then he smiled at the merc. "I have brought generous compensation for your extended service."

Evan looked at Wade. He'd known the merc long enough to know that Wade wasn't happy. In fact, Wade looked like he wanted to punch Cluster. They never spoke much about Cluster, and when they did, Wade always kept his opinions carefully guarded, which Evan interpreted as Wade not wanting to talk bad about Evan's only family.

"I'm not interested in compensation," Wade said, an edge of anger in his voice. "I'm only interested in knowing that Evan will actually be safe with you."

"Of course he will be safe," Psylocke said.

Ororo added, "We will be protecting him."

Evan said, "I would rather have Wade with me. I don't care what any of you say." He moved a little closer to the merc. "Wade's my friend. He saved my life. I don't know if I can trust you to take care of me; I know I can trust him."

"You really want to put your life in the hands of someone whose loyalty can be bought?" Cluster said with a laugh. "Stop this foolishness, and come with me now. We are family. In a few hours, you will have nothing left to trouble you."

Evan didn't know what to do. His gut was telling him that this was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what it was. Cluster was always kind of laissez faire about things. He was unpredictable with his visits, and always had grandiose stories of his life when away. For a long time while living on the farm with Clan Akkaba, Evan wished that he could go to live with Cluster. After all, Cluster was his only living relative.

He looked up at Wade, and knew that the merc was trying his best to be neutral. Then he looked at Cluster, and Evan let out a soft sigh before saying, "I- I need to get my stuff."

"Leave your things; it can all be replaced," Cluster said with a wave of his hand. "Let's go."

Evan nodded and was about to ask Wade for his backpack, but was cut off by Wade's fist slamming into Cluster's face. Evan's surprise turned to shock when both Psylocke, Storm, and the plane vanished, and in place of Cluster on the ground was a kid with a pink mohawk, an unconscious chameleon daemon lay beside him.

Evan's eyes were wide. He was speechless. Blood trickled from the kid's nose and mouth, and Evan finally looked up at Wade.

"Fucking psionic punk," Wade said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text.

"I was going to go with him," Evan said, panic entering his voice. "Who the hell is that?"

"I don't know, but we're going to find out." Wade studied the kid on the ground. He was thin and bony, but not malnourished. Just slight framed. Wade estimated him to be older than Evan, but no older than maybe 15. Considering the quality of the suit, the manicured fingernails, and extensive grooming, the kid was wealthy. Or at least had wealthy benefactors.

Natasha appeared out of the sky less than a minute after Wade sent the text. She landed with a whisper, her eyes going to the kid on the ground. She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you hated hipsters, Wade. You seem so accepting."

"This little shit attempted to kidnap Evan," Wade said, his voice lacking any of his usual humor. "The only reason I didn't break his neck is I need to know who sent him."

"We can arrange that," Natasha said. Then she made a quick gesture with her hand, and Clint swooped down to pick up the limp chameleon in his talons as she and Wade lashed the kid to her cloud willow branch.

Back inside the Institute, Natasha took the kid down to a sealed interrogation room while Wade took Evan up to the suite. Evan collapsed onto the couch and Wade threw a blanket around him. He was still soaked from the rain and starting to shiver, though Wade knew it had little to do with being cold. Bob was perched on Celestia's head, doing his best to soothe the daemon.

Wade grabbed some dry clothes out of Evan's room and put them on the couch beside the boy, before opening his closet. As he swapped out his t-shirt for a dry henley, Evan asked, "Do you think Cluster is dead?"

"I don't know," Wade answered. "But I have the feeling our friend downstairs might know the answer to that."

"I want to go with you," Evan said. "I want to hear what he has to say."

"Interrogations can get rough," Wade said.

Evan picked up the dry clothes. "I've probably seen worse."

Wade nodded. It was true. "Get changed."

***

Tony Stark was prepared for anything, including dangerous intruders. Part of his preparations included the creation of several secured cells, and a small battalion of robots designed to counter mutant powers which he simply called Sentinels. They were made of non-magnetic alloys with sealed circuits that could not be affected by telekinetics. Two of these Sentinels stood outside the holding cell where Natasha brought the unidentified kid.

When Wade and Evan entered the interrogation room, Natasha had all of the contents of the kid's pockets laid out on the metal table. The kid was in a chair, tied with bonds that were etched with spells, secured in place by Thor. The Scandinavian was adept at dealing with people who liked to cast illusions, according to Natasha, and even if he wasn't, Wade was happy to have him in the room.

"This child is very powerful," Thor said as he walked around the chair, Loki lying on the floor looking disinterested. "It is quite amazing that such energy could reside in someone so young."

"Just make sure he stays put until I've finished with the dampening field," Natasha said as she continued to draw sigils on the walls.

Wade and Bob perused the items on the table, the daemon picking up a school ID. According to the ID, the kid was a second year student at the Jean Grey Academy, he was 14, and his name was Quintavius Quirinius Quire. Wade squinted at the name. "Even his name sounds like an asshole."

Natasha snapped into a pair of rubber gloves, and said, "Really, Wade Winston Wilson?"

"I said asshole, not alliteration." Wade continued looking at the items on the table. It was just general things—pack of gum, a couple receipts from the school store, a couple dollars in change. There were no weapons or anything to indicate who sent him.

Also on the table was Quire's still-unconscious daemon. The chameleon lay motionless with Clint standing over it, one foot on the tabletop, the other with his talons wrapped around the daemon's middle.

Thor glanced at Evan, then said to Wade, "Are you sure that young Evan should be here?"

"I'm not leaving," Evan said as he sat in the far corner of the room and Celestia hopped up into his lap, having returned to her rabbit form.

Wade said to Thor, "He's not leaving."

"You ready?" Natasha asked, standing beside the still-unconscious Quire.

Wade nodded and Natasha tilted Quire's head back and put smelling salts under his nose. He woke with a sudden inhalation and a long, pained groan.

"I think you broke my jaw, asshole," Quire said after a moment of stretching his face.

"Nah. Experience has taught me that you wouldn't be talking if that were the case," Wade said as he sat across from Quire. He turned serious. Murderously serious. "Who sent you?"

"The Hellfire Club," Quire answered.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "That was a little too easy."

"I'm not an idiot," Quire said, looking up at her. "I know how this goes. You beat me up, threaten my daemon. I lose a few teeth and eventually break. I'd rather skip the painful steps." He slouched back and gave a cocky smirk. "Also, knowing everything won't change anything. Even this was planned for."

"Really," Wade said, drawing out the word as he drummed his fingers on the table on Quire's school ID. "Since you're not worried, why not tell us the master plan here. What does the Hellfire Club want with Evan?"

"If the Magisterium is interested, so are we," Quire answered. "And if the Brotherhood was sent after him, then he must be pretty important."

Wade sniffed the air, and looked at Natasha. "Do you smell that?"

Thor sniffed, but smelled nothing.

Natasha nodded. "Yeah. Definitely bullshit."

Quire rolled his eyes. "It's the same reason everyone wants him."

"You better start giving straight answers, or I'm going to start breaking your nicely manicured fingers," Wade warned. "Why does the Hellfire Club want Evan?"

"Don't you know who he is?" Quire asked, obviously amazed that he needed to explain anything. "Everybody wants to have the Great Apocalypse on their side, and if they can't have him with them, they want him dead. And from experience, I know that his enemies will kill him rather than let him ascend."

"What experience?" Natasha asked.

"Evan isn't the first clone of Apocalypse," Quire answered. He looked at Evan, who was obviously stunned by the announcement. "What? Sad you're not number one?"

"I'm a clone?" Evan said, looking at Wade.

Quire's tone lost its snark. "I'm sorry, kid. But that's what you are. Whatever Cluster told you is a bunch of bullshit. He's not your uncle. He didn't rescue you from a bad home or whatever the story was. He stole you from a lab and was paid to do it."

Thor's brow furrowed. "How do you know this?"

"We just know," Quire answered. "We know things. It's kind of in our mission statement."

"What happened to the other- the other clone?" Evan asked shakily.

Quire's entire demeanor changed as he said, "He was seven years old when someone shot him between the eyes while he was playing in the temple of Clan Akkaba. His name was William. He was my friend. I'm not letting it happen again."

Loki looked up at Thor and said, "He tells the truth."

"I have no reason to lie," Quire said directly the the daemon. Then he smirked and said, "Unlike you, I'm not pretending to be anything right now."

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Thor, whose expression did not change. He stood with his arms crossed as he said in a voice that allowed no disagreement, "You came here in the guise of someone our good friend trusts."

Quire's eyes narrowed, then he slouched back in the chair and said, "Look, fine. My method sucked. I admit it. But Evan isn't safe with you."

"How did you know Evan was here?" Natasha asked.

"Ozymandias told us," Quire answered.

"Ozymandias is dead," Evan said from the corner.

"No, he's not," Quire said, looking at him. There was a strange expression that passed over Quire's face as he locked eyes with Evan. "The night the Brotherhood attacked your home, Ozymandias was in a temple in Egypt, where he always is. You've probably never even met the real Ozymandias."

Evan stood up. "I saw him every day. He—"

"Unless he had stone skin, it wasn't Ozymandias," Quire said with disgust. "You've been the victim of a pretty bad mind-fuck, Evan. Mostly perpetrated by Cluster."

"Says the person who impersonated the fucker," Wade said.

"It was the only way," Quire said, a little less cocky now. "Cluster made himself Evan's gateway. I was just opening the gate."

"To the Hellfire Club," Natasha said.

Quire looked at her. "Like I said, his predecessor was my friend. I would do anything to keep Evan safe. The Hellfire has the resources to do that."

"So who are you in the club?" Wade asked. "You're smart, so I doubt you're just a Pawn. You're not strong enough to be a Knight. With your illusions, I'd almost think you were a Rook. Maybe a Bishop."

Quire looked slightly off kilter. "How do you know about—"

"You're not the first member of the Hellfire Club I've met, kid," Wade said.

Natasha smirked.

"I am the former White King of New Amsterdam," Quire said, obviously not thrilled about the "former" part of the sentence.

Wade's brow scrunched. "A little young for that title, aren't you."

Quire responded bitterly, "I was de-aged."

"How did that happen?" Thor asked. "Such a feat is not easily accomplished."

"It happened in The World," Quire answered. He glared at Thor and said, "I shouldn't have to explain what that is or how it's possible to an Asgardian."

Wade ignored Quire's addendum, and asked, "How did you end up in the World?"

"How does anyone end up there? I was captured by Amal Farouk." Quire took a deep breath, and said, "It was just after William was killed. I went after the assholes that did it. I challenged Farouk. I didn't know he was possessed by the Shadow King."

Evan asked, "How did you get out?"

"I don't remember," Quire answered, looking at him with pain in his eyes. He said, "I'm sorry for how this went. I really am. I just want you to be safe."

Wade said, "That may be the case, but until I can confirm who you are and that you are not a threat to Evan, you are going to be locked down here."

"Whatever you decide, you better do it fast," Quire said to him, his voice a little firmer, but still lacking the cockiness he had at first. "My associates know where I am. If they don't hear from me soon, they'll send their agents to retrieve me. They will not let the Magisterium get their hands on him."

Evan said, "Don't I get any kind of say in this?"

Quire said, "No. You don't. Not until your daemon settles and your powers manifest. You will be unstoppable then. No one will be able to touch you. But right now, even with your mercenary, witch, and thunder god, you are not safe. Amal Farouk will find you. It's just a matter of time."

Evan studied Quire for a moment before looking at Wade and saying, "Can you verify his story?"

Wade nodded. "I have very trusted resources who can confirm or disprove."

"If he's telling the truth, I want to go to the Hellfire Club and speak to the real Ozymandias." He looked at Quire and said, "If you really are a friend, I'm sorry for the treatment. If you're not, I won't shed a tear when Wade guts you."

Natasha and Thor shared a look of surprise as Evan walked out the door. Quire was smiling as best he could.

Wade got up to follow Evan, and Quire said, "Wait. I got to know something."

"What?" Wade asked gruffly.

"Only one person has ever seen through my illusions, and that was Farouk." Quire shook his head, and said, "I researched Cluster's mannerisms and habits. I know I perfectly mimicked Braddock and Storm's powers. So how did you know? What gave it away?"

Wade turned away from the door. "You were perfect, kid. You had me fooled, except for one little detail. When Cluster sent me to get Evan, there was only one thing he was worried about protecting, and it wasn't the kid."

Quire nodded, his face showing a real disgust as he said, "Evan deserves better."

"Yeah," was all Wade said before exiting the room.

***

Evan closed himself in his room. The first time Wade checked on him, he had the alethiometer in his hand, writing furiously in his notebook as he studied the device. The second time Wade checked was to bring him food, finding him doing the same. The third time was at almost midnight, and Evan was asleep at his desk, the alethiometer still in hand. Wade pulled back the covers on Evan's bed, and managed to get Evan awake enough to relocate.

After closing Evan's door, Wade could not relax. The day had been far too intense. It frightened him how close he came to letting Evan leave with Quire. He couldn't stop himself from wondering what would have happened had he not been able to see through Quire's very detailed, very believable illusion. It made him feel sick inside.

Then there was the matter of Thor and Loki. While Evan was studying the alethiometer, Thor and Loki came by to ask after Evan's emotional state, and Wade treated the two of them to a small Inquisition. Small, because Wade only had to ask, "Who the fuck are you?" once before Loki transformed into her human body, and Thor explained why they were at the Institute.

"Observers," Wade said flatly.

Loki nodded. "We were sent to observe this moment in history, as our seers believe it to be a turning point that will affect this world and others for ages to come."

Thor added, "More importantly, we hope only to see Evan grow to be a wise and just being. We wish to see the Age of Apocalypse unfold as the dawning of an era of enlightenment and peace."

Wade said, "Good to know the gods are cheering for him."

"You are angry; it is understandable," Thor said.

"You're goddamn right it's understandable," Wade seethed. "This isn't a fucking spectator sport we're playing. I'm glad you're on our side, but if you're just going to sit on the bleachers and watch, you can both go fuck yourselves."

Thor calmly said, "We are gods, Sir Wade. We cannot interfere with events. Only watch and offer guidance."

"It frustrates Stark as well," Loki said with a smirk on her lips and twinkle in her emerald eyes. "But we are truly vested in Evan's future, just as our predecessors were with En Sabah Nur."

Wade gave a mock sigh of relief. "Well that's a comfort, considering the motherfucker was a tyrant who tried to kill off all of humanity."

"En Sabah Nur was not always that way," Loki said. Then she smiled and said, "I believe that you will help Evan to define his path."

"Do I honestly look like a positive role model?" Wade said with a snort of laughter.

Thor nodded. "Aye. You do."

Wade could only shake his head. When he talked to Natasha about it, he wasn't really surprised to find out that she already knew about Thor and Loki. She also informed him that she had made contact with the Black Queen, and that she would arrive by tomorrow evening. He wished it would be sooner, but her home base was not local. It wasn't even on this continent.

Now with Evan sleeping, Thor and Loki figured out, Natasha out doing moon rituals, and Quire safely locked up, Wade didn't know what to do and he was restless. After an hour of pacing, he decided that maybe some night air would be relaxing, so he put Bob on his shoulder and walked out to the verandah at the end of the hall.

The night air was heavy with humidity, and above the stars shimmered. He leaned against the stone railing, breathing slow and even, smelling the warm scent of summer flowers, and trying to make sense of the day. He wasn't used to situations where he couldn't kill his way to a solution.

He was worried about Evan. There was a lot of anger in him that simmered just below the surface. It was understandable, considering. Still, the thought of Evan being angry and destined to be Apocalypse was a deadly combination. He thought about Warren's warnings. He thought about Quire's assertion that there was another one who came before, murdered in his sandbox. Wade wondered if the Kingdom of Heaven had commanded that death, too.

"Do you have any input?" Wade asked Bob, who just stared back at him. He sighed. "Didn't think so."

Then Bob nipped his elbow and gestured toward the door just before it opened and Peter walked out. He was barefoot, wearing basketball shorts and an Einstein t-shirt. He closed the door and joined Wade at the railing.

"I thought I saw you standing out here," Peter said with a smile.

"I'm surprised you're awake." Wade returned the smile and asked, "Did you finally catch up on your sleep?"

"Yeah." Peter told him about his and Tony's meeting with Dr. Foster, going over the various aspects of the upcoming procedure, which would probably take place in a few days. Tony wanted to run a few more tests on the IDA and Ultron to make sure that everything would work correctly once installed, and Bucky needed a couple days of antibiotics before the procedure to make sure he wouldn't get an infection.

Listening to Peter talk was soothing to Wade. He didn't really know why, considering half of what Peter said went over his head. Still, the details and descriptions made Wade relax a little bit. So did seeing Bob and Gwen snuggled together. Part of him wished he could let go of everything and enjoy the closeness with Peter that his daemon felt with Gwen. But he knew that was a luxury he could not indulge. Not after today.

Then Peter's hand was on his shoulder and his voice full of concern, as he said, "Wade?"

Wade couldn't even remember when he stopped listening to Peter. He huffed a humorless laugh, and said, "Sorry. It was a crazy day."

"What happened?" Peter asked.

Wade looked into Peter's eyes, completely intent on telling him everything, but finding he couldn't. Peter was riding a high, and Wade couldn't bring him down. Peter deserved to enjoy the triumph of Ultron. He deserved to live without thinking about the Hellfire Club, Asgardians, clones, and Apocalypse. This wasn't Peter's fight. Peter was just thrown into it because Evan needed a tutor.

"Wade?" Peter said again, his hand sliding up to Wade's neck.

The contact to his bare skin made Wade feel warmth that had nothing to do with the night heat. He was also suddenly aware that while Peter talked, the two of them had moved closer and closer until they were only inches apart. It was so easy to finish closing the distance, for Wade to pull Peter against him and press their mouths together, an action that Peter reciprocated with great enthusiasm.

Instinct guided them to the small stone bench, where Peter pulled Wade against him with more strength than Wade imagined him to possess. It gave Wade a little thrill being the one being manhandled for a change, especially since Peter didn't seem the type. Then again, Peter was feeling on top of the world. Peter didn't feel like waiting for Wade to drop his barriers; he wanted to knock them down.

As they kissed, Peter's hands roamed over Wade's chest. The merc was so solid, like someone carved him out of stone and brought him to life, leaving the rough texture of the masonry in his skin. It was a texture that could be felt through his shirt, but Peter wanted to feel it without barriers. He wanted to feel Wade's skin against his own. He wanted Wade naked.

Peter asked, "Bedroom?"

"I..." Wade suddenly realized he was straddling Peter's lap. Maybe it was the weird tingly feeling he felt coursing through his body, like a mix of fresh rain and sunshine. Maybe it was that all of his blood had drained into other regions. Either way, and with great difficulty, he said, "I want to, but. I. Can't."

"Because you have a job to do," Peter said, just as breathless. He smiled, and said, "Seriously, your sense of duty is crazy sexy. It is. But right now, Evan's sleeping. You can have a night off, right?"

"Someone tried to kidnap the kid today," Wade said.

Peter's eyes went wide. "What? Wade— Why didn't you tell me?"

Wade stood up, putting a painful distance between them—maybe 3 feet—and said, "I didn't want to. You were having a good day. I don't like ruining good days." He adjusted his pants, and said, "I'm sorry."

"Is Evan okay?" Peter asked, concerned.

"Yeah. Mostly, except for finding out most of his life was based on deception and bullshit." Wade crossed his arms and leaned against the railing. "I'll leave it up to Evan to tell you the details if he wants. But for the moment, I'm waiting to find out if the little fucker who tried to take him was telling the truth."

Peter had to take a moment to get his mind working again, since his blood felt the need to fill everything but his brain. He asked, "Who was it? Magisterium?"

"No." Wade shook his head. "He's just a kid. 14. Claims he's from the Hellfire Club, but whatever. He's a pink-mohawk-having punk."

Peter's eyebrow went up, suddenly really interested. "His name doesn't happen to be Quentin Quire?"

Wade's brow scrunched. "How the fuck did you know that?"

"Because I met a pink-mohawk-having punk from the Hellfire Club when I lived in New Amsterdam City." Peter shrugged at the look Wade gave him. "He was at the college recruiting. My friend Harry and I was both invited. Quire called himself the White King."

Wade was at a loss. "Seriously."

"I thought it was just another weird fraternity," Peter said. "They go after the elites and people they think will be elite. My roommate at college was Harry Osborn."

Wade was astounded. "As in son of Norman Osborn, Oscorp tycoon?"

"The very same." Peter smirked. "Harry was pissed I didn't join up, but I didn't like the idea of being around a bunch of elitist assholes."

"Holy shit." Wade huffed a laugh, and said, "You just confirmed half his story. The other part will be verified tomorrow. I have a close relationship with the Black Queen of Rio."

"A close relationship?" Peter asked.

"Yeah." Wade shrugged. "We're, uh, married."

Peter did a double take. "Married?"

"Yeah," Wade said a little sheepishly. "I actually have two. Two wives."

"You didn't. You- you never told me about a wife, let alone two!" Peter felt gobsmacked. "Why didn't you tell me? I feel like an asshole. You! You're an asshole!"

Wade rolled his eyes. "It's an open relationship. Both of them are way more into each other than anyone else. I'm just there for breeding."

"You really expect me to believe that," Peter said flatly.

"I don't really care if you do or not," Wade answered. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but it wasn't important. And I'm not the one who has pursued this- this- whatever it is. That's you."

Peter wanted to argue, but he couldn't. Wade was right. Wade had no control over how his Dust affected Peter. The fact that it was the catalyst for Peter's interest did not put Wade at fault. Peter was the one who kissed him first, who always initiated contact. And at every step, Wade pushed back. Told him he was working, he didn't have time.

"I'm sorry," Peter said, feeling defeated. Feeling like an asshole. "I got carried away."

Wade laughed. "Yeah, well I am pretty irresistible."

"Apparently." Peter managed a smile. "Seriously, though. Two wives."

Wade nodded. "And they are two of the scariest women you'll ever meet."

Chapter Text

The sun was setting over the trees when Wade walked out to the aerodock. The heat of the day was starting to ebb, but he was still warm wearing black utility pants and the coat of his blood-red cassock that billowed in the soft breeze as he made his way across the courtyard towards the far side of the property. He'd spent part of the day stitching up the gashes in the cloak left from the fight to retrieve Evan from Tolman's Field. Some areas he patched with the remnants of his sash. There were buttons missing, though, so he opted to leave the front open revealing the black T-shirt he picked up in the Institute's gift shop, with glow-in-the-dark text that said "Astronomers Do It All Night Long".

Peter walked with him, surreptitiously looking at Wade from the corner of his eye. Wade looked damn good in his uniform. It accented his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and paired with the silly t-shirt, the outfit was 100% Wade Wilson. When Wade first arrived, Peter thought the uniform was sort of frightening. Wade was so intimidating when fresh from a pretty serious fight. After getting to know him, yes, Wade was an intimidating person, but he was a person. He had his own fears and insecurities. He had a wicked sense of humor. He was a family man.

Peter still hadn't wrapped his mind around that bit of information.

Evan opted to stay in his room, as he had ever since the arrival of Quentin Quire. He wasn't talking to anyone except for Celestia, who had taken to staying mostly in her bobcat form. He wasn't eating except for a few bites here and there. Other than using the bathroom, he was at his desk, writing. Wade asked him that morning what it was he was working on, and Evan said he would tell him when he was ready.

Bob sat on Wade's shoulder. He looked like he should, with his long tail feathers and shining green plumage. Gwen's daily pampering had turned him into a right handsome fellow. There were even a few times Wade heard his daemon humming. He hoped that soon Bob would start talking. Wade looked forward to that day; he'd never heard Bob's voice.

They walked up the small path to the landing area. Gwen and Bob immediately took up residence on the ground between where Wade and Peter stood. Bob fluffed up his feathers so that Gwen could jump down on his back. The hamster stretched out with her head on top of Bob's, her tiny arms dangling on either side of his neck.

Gwen was not phased even in the slightest at the revelation that Wade was married. When she and Peter were alone, the daemon wouldn't stop talking about how excited she was to meet Wade's wives. Peter, on the other hand, was slightly terrified of meeting them for a multitude of reasons. Especially that whole having sex-dreams/shower fantasies about Wade Wilson. Peter didn't like the idea of being labeled a home-wrecker, either.

Thus for the first time ever, an awkward silence fell between them and lasted throughout the day. Except for a few brief words that only pertained to Evan and his current state of mind, they had not spoken. Morning coffee consisted of drinking coffee to the sound of a lawn mower. No random jokes or observations. No weird faces. No conversation. Peter had gotten very accustomed to Wade's behavior, and he missed the easy way they interacted.

Peter also knew that the awkwardness was all Wade's fault. It had to be. Which is why Peter made no effort to fix it. Wade was the one who didn't tell him about his wives, who didn't just tell Peter to back off with the flirting. Hell, Wade was a flirt too. Wasn't he? Peter couldn't have just imagined that the merc returned his feelings. Or lust. Whatever it was, it was Wade's fault that it was weird.

Had to be, dammit.

He was thankful when Tony arrived. The billionaire was having his own share of awkward relationship drama, so at least he was someone Peter could commiserate with. Peter felt bad for him, especially after all of his drunken rambling. Tony, despite his public attitude, was someone who actually had a heart, and that heart could feel pain. Even if recent events were out of Steve Roger's control, Tony still felt like the odd man out. Still, he worked to make sure that Bucky Barnes would remain healthy and lucid, because his love for Steve beat out any selfish feelings he may have. It was something that Peter admired.

"So when's the wifey-poos going to be here?" Tony asked as he sat on the stone bench beside where Peter and Wade stood. Pepper immediately joined Bob and Gwen on the ground, nosing both of them before sitting in her sentinel position at Tony's side, her keen eyes watching the sky.

Wade answered, "Nat said sunset, so I figure another fifteen minutes or so.

"Is she still in your room prepping?" Tony asked.

Natasha showed up at Wade's quarters with an armload of blankets and plush pillows just after daybreak, and spent the day converting the spartan room into something undoubtedly fit for royalty. Including putting a larger bed in the room, a fact that made Peter feel a little jealous.

"She finished up just before I got in the shower," Wade said. Then added, laughing, "You wouldn't believe the amount of furniture she moved today."

Tony frowned and shook his head. "I can't get her to make me a cup of coffee, even if I beg."

"It's good to be the king," Wade said with a smirk. Then he quickly added, "Don't tell my wife I said that."

"Which one?" Peter asked, a little more snarky than he planned. That was Wade's fault, too. Had to be.

"Shiklah," Wade answered. "You'll know which one she is when they arrive. Trust me."

Tony asked, "So is that how you know Natasha? Because of your wife, uh, wives?"

"She didn't tell you?" Wade asked.

Tony shook his head, no.

"If she doesn't want you to know, then I'm not telling." Wade smiled at the frown on Tony's face.

The jet arrived just as Wade predicted. Right as the sun vanished below the horizon, a shining black plane appeared from over the trees. It wasn't a small craft, either. Nothing like the small stealth fighter that Wade and Evan arrived in. This was a luxury jet on par with Tony's. Actually, Peter was pretty sure it was a newer model than what Tony flew around in. It was sleek, black with silver accents. The engines were just slightly louder than a whisper.

Then the door opened, and Peter's jaw dropped. He wasn't sure exactly what he expected Wade's wives to look like, but he did not expect them to be a pair of possibly the most gorgeous women he's ever laid eyes on. Peter looked at Tony, and Tony looked just as amazed.

The first was petite with gorgeous flawless dark skin, sparkling brown eyes, and a gloriously curly halo of dark brown hair. She looked like the witches in textbooks look, with her flowing indigo silk dress and crown of cactus flowers. Her daemon, a massive crow, immediately took flight, soaring up into the air before diving down to land beside Bob. Bob enthusiastically exchanged nuzzles and nibbles, then the two daemons flew back to the plane where the second of Wade's wives now stood beside the first.

Peter immediately knew why Wade said he would know which one was the queen. Shiklah was a statuesque woman, with a crown of gold on her head, embellished with blood-red rubies and four golden horns. Her eyes stood out among her features, as they were bright gold like a wolf's. Her face was painted with purple and black markings, and her raven-black hair shined in the soft blue light of the aerodock. She dressed in black and purple silk, which was a stark contrast to her moon-white skin.

Her daemon was a dragon. It was a small dragon, but a dragon with shimmering green scales and red eyes. It perched on Shiklah's shoulder, both of them waiting for Wade to make his way to the top of the stairs, smiling in a way that Peter could only describe as in adoration.

Then Wade kissed both of them, and Peter felt a sharp pang of jealousy.

"I was afraid I'd be late."

Peter jumped hearing Natasha right beside him. She was talking to Tony, and both were smiling. Peter kind of hated anyone who was happy at the moment, because the closer Wade came with his two gorgeous spouses, Peter felt more and more like running back to the Institute and barricading himself in his room.

Gwen, on the other hand, stood on Peter's shoulder practically jumping with anticipation, barely waiting until the others were within range before she jumped down. Bob immediately flew down to her, followed by the crow and the dragon. The three avians surrounded Gwen, all of them nuzzling her, and Gwen was squeaking with joy.

Peter wished he could feel as good as his daemon.

Natasha was the first to approach the trio. She gave a subtle bow, and Shiklah gave a nod, and said, "It is good to see you, Natasha," and Peter wanted to cry because even her voice was sexy.

"I hope your journey was peaceful," Natasha said, and she was smiling. Actually, really smiling. Not a smirk or a half smile. There were teeth and a little bit of a crinkle at the corner of her eyes.

"It was quite peaceful, considering we slept most of the way," Shiklah replied. She had her arm around Wade's waist, and his arm was draped around her shoulders. The other arm curled around the second woman, who also had her hand linked with Shiklah's behind Wade's back. Peter wondered if they felt the same things that he felt when Wade touched him. Again, the jealousy was almost painful. Shiklah said, "I do wish that just once we would see each other and it not be a dire situation."

"It's more of a Quire situation," Natasha replied, giggling at her own corny joke. Peter was starting to wonder how hard it would be to get a DNA sample, because Natasha was acting strange. Jokes were not in her nature. Right?

Tony looked just as amazed and confused, but he managed to have a straight face when Wade introduced him.

"I know who you are, Mr. Stark." Shiklah shook his hand, and said, "I follow your work very closely. I am most intrigued by what I have heard concerning the daemonless man called Bucky."

"That's not public knowledge," Tony said, eyeing Natasha.

"When Wade became part of the project, I insisted to know all of the details," Shiklah said. Then she turned to Peter, and Peter felt like a deer in the headlights. She said, "You must be Mr. Parker, yes?"

Peter nodded. "Uh, yeah. Yes. Hi, I'm Peter. Parker. Peter Parker. Nice to, uh, to meet you Mrs?"

The second wife, whom Wade had not yet introduced, shared a look with Shiklah, and said, "Que lindo."

"I am Shiklah," she said. "And I am nobody's missus." She smiled and linked hands with the other woman, who immediately put her head on Shiklah's shoulder. "This is my consort, Carmelita."

"It's nice to meet you both," Peter said shakily.

"The pleasure is ours," Shiklah said with a coy smile.

"We've heard much about you, Señor Parker," Carmelita said, her dark eyes shining.

The queen said, "Once we have attended to business, I would like you to join us. There is so much I want to know about the brilliant young scientist that my dearest consort has befriended."

Wade was smiling sort of sheepishly, and Peter said, "Uh, I. Um. Yes?"

"Good," Shiklah said. "Would you be so kind as to escort my beloved to Wade's quarters?"

"Sure?" Peter said with a nervous laugh.

Shiklah kissed Carmelita Carmelita again, their lips lingering long enough that Peter felt the need to look away. Then the queen straightened, and said to Natasha and Wade, "Take me to this Quire."

There was no invitation for Peter to come with them, and really he didn't want to. He'd looked in the room at Quire, just long enough to confirm that it was the same person he met back in college. Though he looked substantially younger, Peter was certain it was the same Quentin Quire. It was disturbing. Everything was disturbing.

"You are not used to this, are you?" Carmelita said to him. "You have that look of a man who is quite confused."

"A little," Peter said. "I've never met a queen before."

Carmelita patted Peter's arm, and said, "She can be quite intimidating. It is sexy, no?"

"Uh," was Peter's response.

Carmelita giggled and said, "Wait here a moment. I must give the staff their instructions."

Peter nodded. "Okay. Yeah, I'll wait here."

The staff that Carmelita spoke of consisted of several very large, gray-skinned men with black markings on their faces. They were massive, muscular, and did not have visible daemons. Peter was so busy staring after them, that he almost didn't feel the little tug on his pant leg. Gwen never looked happier. She bounced in his hand, a look of complete bliss in her eyes that made Peter shake his head.

Then Peter felt a whack on his shoulder, and his head snapped towards Tony, who was giving him a Cheshire Cat grin. Peter frowned. "What?"

"You lucky dog," was his reply.

Peter's brow furrowed. "What?"

Tony said, "Seriously envious of you Peter. I'm supposed to be the only one with an interesting sex life on this property."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Wade's the one with the interesting sex life, not me."

"Do I detect a note of bitterness?" Tony said, his eyebrow raised. "Were you not just invited to their party of three?"

"No?"

Mimicking Shiklah's sultry voice, Tony said, "Join us, Peter. We will make the sexy love with you."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the maturity level of a teenage girl?" Peter groaned.

Still mimicking Shiklah, Tony said, "Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you're pissed?"

"I'm going to punch you."

Tony laughed. "You are actually mad right now, aren't you."

"No," Peter said while Gwen sat on his shoulder, nodding her head.

"You want some advice?" Tony said, then continued despite Peter saying no. "Don't judge the situation without getting all the variables. You're a scientist. You need to gather data and do some experiments."

"I don't want to experiment with Wade and his wives," Peter snapped. Carmelita was on her way back with her crow floating on the air at her shoulder. Peter put Gwen in his pocket, and said to Tony, "I'll see you tomorrow for Bucky's procedure."

Tony pointed a finger. "Better have some good stories to tell."

Carmelita took Peter's arm, and the two of them started towards the Institute. Peter felt awkward walking with her. He doubted he'd ever felt more awkward, even when he took the pretty redheaded neighbor girl to prom because Aunt May didn't know that Peter wasn't really into girls and he wasn't ready to explain why he would rather go with Eddie Brock. Luckily, Mary Jane Watson was perceptive enough to not ask for a kiss goodnight. In fact, she was the one who helped Peter come out.

"You can relax, Peter," Carmelita said as they approached the doors. "This is not an inquisition. You do not need to be so tense."

Peter laughed nervously. "I guess it's strange escorting a queen's consort."

"You've spent every day with a queen's consort the last two months," she said with a knowing smile. "Were you this nervous with him?"

"Yeah, actually," Peter said. "At least at first. He's intimidating."

"You have no idea." Carmelita walked inside ahead of Peter, and again took his arm once the doors were closed. "The first time I saw him, he was covered in blood and missing his left arm, yet still fighting. It was a very intense day."

Peter's eyes were wide. "What the hell happened?"

"It is a long story, but the shortest version is that he rescued Shiklah and I." Carmelita smiled up at Peter. "He is very brave and selfless. His heart is something precious."

"You really love him, don't you."

"Of course. He is a very dear friend and the father of our child," Carmelita said, beaming. "Shiklah and I are very happy to have him in our lives." She paused a moment, looking at him. "You seem surprised."

Peter shrugged. "It's just that he doesn't talk about you."

Carmelita nodded. "It is for our safety, Peter. He has very dangerous enemies who would not hesitate to try to harm us to hurt him. It is only times like this that he involves us in his work. Only when it is necessary."

"I guess this Quire situation is pretty big," Peter said.

Carmelita's face turned serious. "Yes. It is very big."

Evan was sitting in the hall outside Wade's room when Peter and Carmelita arrived. He looked up at them, and said, "Who's your friend?"

"I am Carmelita Camacho," she said, shaking his hand.

Evan smiled. "Evan Sabahnur."

"You have a famous face." Carmelita added, "It is truly a pleasure to meet you. We have heard much about you as well."

"Oh?" Evan looked a little nervous. "What have you heard?"

"Everything." She smiled, and said, "Wade is very taken with you. He cares a great deal about you, Evan."

"I know he does," Evan said softly. "Are you the Black Queen?"

She laughed. "No. I am the Black Queen's consort. I am Carmelita. Or Carm, as Wade calls me." Then she lifted her daemon off her shoulder, and said, "This is Arkaitz."

"This is Celestia," Evan said as the daemon transformed into her owl form and leaned forward to touch beaks with Arkaitz.

"She will settle soon," Carmelita said. "I imagine that she will become something very powerful."

Evan looked at her with concern. "Is that good or bad?"

"A daemon is a representation of who you are inside," Carmelita said. "She could be anything in the Universe, but it would not change what she represents to you. Arkaitz represents my soul's darkness in many ways, but also the beauty of night magic. He is my cautious side."

"Gwen is my brave side," Peter said. "She is fearless and adventurous, where I'm much more reserved."

Evan held Celestia against him, and said, "Celestia seems to be just like me."

"You must know yourself in order to understand the nuance of your daemon's personality. It will become much more clear once she has defined herself," Carmelita said. Then she studied his face a moment, before saying, "I can see the care and heaviness you carry inside. You are consumed by so many things, so many worries. You must learn to release these things in order find yourself."

"I don't know how to do that," Evan said sadly.

"You will learn," Carmelita said. "Soon, you will not live in fear."

***

Down in the holding cell, Shiklah sat across from Quentin Quire, her amber eyes fixed on his as he told his story. Her daemon, Bugamil, was curled around Quire's daemon, Kadel, performing his own interrogation. The entire room was filled with a strange purple haze. Quentin knew instinctively that it was a type of truth spell; he also knew that he couldn't counter it.

When he finished, the haze disappeared and Shiklah held her hand out to her daemon, who flew up to perch on her shoulder. She thoughtfully stroked Bug's chin for a moment, before saying, "I believe you, Mr. Quire. Knowing your past reputation and my own experiences with Amal Farouk, I do not doubt that you are the same Quintavius Quire who once held the title of the White King of New Amsterdam."

Quire waited, knowing there was more. Shiklah's long black nails drummed a staccato rhythm on the table a few times before she said, "How many in your branch of the organization are aware of Evan?"

"The kings and queens; nobody else," he answered. "I only know because I hid myself from their minds to listen to what Ozymandias had to say."

"And Ozymandias, he is still in New Amsterdam?" Shiklah asked.

Quire shook his head. "No. He returned to the Akkaba temple in Egypt."

Shiklah nodded. "Were you really going to take Evan back to the Hellfire Club?"

"Yes," he answered.

"What will you do if I told you I intend to take Evan with me back to High Brazil?" she asked.

Quire said, "I would beg you to take me with you."

Shiklah's eyes narrowed, and a subtle pink glow flowed from the blackness of her eyes. "If you do, you cannot depart until I command it. You will not have any rank or title among my people. The Hellfire Club here is a group of pompous fools who think themselves puppet masters. The true power resides with my people."

"I know, Queen Shiklah," Quire said. "And I accept those conditions. I just want to make sure that Evan is safe."

"Safety is never guaranteed for any of us," Shiklah said as she stood. "If I vouch for you, and you betray me, it will not be my consort who deals with you. It will be me."

"I won't betray you, my lady," Quire said, doing his best to ignore the slight shimmer of a beast with four horns and many eyes that seemed to appear around the Black Queen.

Without another word, Shiklah left the room, walking down the corridor to the security room where Natasha and Wade were observing their conversation. Shiklah looked at Wade and said, "Do you agree with me?"

Wade nodded. "Yeah. Evan would be safer in Brazil."

"I agree," Natasha said. "I have good reason to believe that soon the Magisterium will have a greater presence here. If Evan doesn't relocate soon, he will be in danger."

Shiklah smiled at Natasha. "I do wish you would accept my invitation to join our coven, my beloved Black Widow. Your unique skillset is wasted on this billionaire."

"Maybe someday," Natasha said. "What do you want me to do with Quire?"

"Leave him in his cell for the night," Shiklah said. "But bring him some fresh clothes, and tell him that we will depart for High Brazil in three days."

Natasha nodded, and said, "I'll make arrangements." She swiveled around in her chair and focused on the computer screen.

Shiklah took Wade's hand and said, "Come, my love. We have much to talk about."

She put her hand at the small of his back, and they walked in silence to his door, which was standing open. Inside, Carmelita, Evan, and Peter sat at the small table, Evan with the alethiometer in hand and Carmelita drinking a glass of red wine while Peter chuckled about something.

Carmelita got up when Shiklah and Wade entered, greeting them both with a kiss, and handing Shiklah a chilled glass and offering Wade a bottle of beer. Wade accepted, and said, "This feels like some kind of slumber party, except no one is wearing pajamas and we don't have a Ouija board."

"I'm pretty sure we could find one," Peter said. "Carm was just telling me about your bell bottom days."

Wade pointed at her and said, "No embarrassing stories."

"Nothing to be embarrassed about. They made your ass look spectacular," Carmelita said with a grin.

"My ass looks spectacular no matter what," Wade said, planting a hand on his hip, then he let out a yelp when Shiklah slapped his ass.

Evan stood up and said, "I think I'm going to head to bed."

Shiklah smiled at him and said, "Tomorrow I hope that we may speak about a few things, Evan."

Evan nodded. "Yeah, okay. Sure."

"Goodnight, kid," Wade said.

Evan departed, making sure to close both bathroom doors between their rooms. A moment later, Peter awkwardly stood and said, "I think I'm going to call it a night. I'm sure you guys need to, uh, catch up. And such."

"Oh you must stay," Shiklah said. It was meant to be an invitation, but it sort of sounded like an order coming from her. It hadn't escaped Peter's attention that Shiklah had a certain way of carrying herself that made her frightening and difficult to say no to.

Peter stammered, "I, uh, I d-don't. I have a, uh, um. I have a procedure. Tomorrow. Need my sleep. Lots of sleep."

Before Shiklah could say anything else, Wade stepped in and said, "I'll see you in the morning for coffee, Spidey."

"Okay," Peter said as he plucked Gwen off the table, who was giving him a look that meant he was going to get an earful once they were alone. Still, he put her in his pocket and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Shiklah sighed and turned to Wade. "He is a little skittish."

"He is very sweet, though. And so funny," Carmelita said. "He is perfect for you, querido."

Shiklah wrapped her arms around Wade's neck and kissed him deeply. Wade let out a surprised, "MMMPH!" before he kissed back. After a moment, she looked up at him and said, "I have missed your touch."

Wade smiled. "What can I say, babe? I'm electrifying."

Carmelita smiled coyly. "Does Peter like your strange humor?"

"He seems to," Wade answered, his scarred cheeks a little pink.

"Do you think he will want to come to Rio?" Shiklah asked, her eyes sparkling.

The smile slowly disappeared from Wade's face. "I don't want to do that to him."

Shiklah sighed and cupped his cheek. "It is not a punishment, Wade."

"You don't understand. He's doing really important work here. I mean, really important." Wade held her hand. "He's brilliant. Between him and Tony, they're going to be able to cure people who've been oblated or lost their daemons. He's going to change the world for the better. He doesn't need to be involved with me."

"You always put everyone's happiness before you own," Shiklah said. "But you don't realize how much joy you bring others. You don't see how much you are adored."

Wade cleared his throat and said, "Whatever you say."

Carmelita gave a sad smile and brushed a kiss against his cheek before saying, "Speaking of people who adore you, your very precocious child has made friends with a penguin in Patagonia."

Wade's face instantly lit up. "A penguin?"

"She met it on the beach with her Abuelita." Carmelita sighed. "She tells me now she wishes Venceslás would settle as a penguin. I don't know what the daemon thinks about this. According to Abuelita, he is sticking to either a poodle moth or green hummingbird."

Wade chuckled. "She's definitely my kid."

"Oh wait until you hear what she named it," Shiklah said with a throaty laugh.

"What'd she call it?"

"She called the penguin Waddlepool," Carmelita said with a giggle.

Wade snorted a laugh. "Absolutely my kid."

"We've missed you," Shiklah said with a half-smile.

"Missed you too," Wade said as he again took her hand and Shiklah started towards the bed. Wade could tell that Shiklah had longed to be somewhere more private with the way she pressed against him and squeezed his hand on their way to the room. Shiklah wore her desires openly, never shy about what she wanted from him or Carmelita.

Normally, Wade was willing to oblige, but the closer they came to the bed, the more tired he felt. Over the weeks, he had not slept much more than a few hours a day. It was a combination of things, from the need to be alert, to his own personal discomfort being surrounded by scientists, then being attracted to one of those scientists and feeling guilty for indulging when he was meant to be working, even if his indulgence consisted of a few kisses and morning coffee.

"Wade?" Shiklah said from in front of him.

Wade sighed. "Sorry, babe. Just tired."

"It is this place," Shiklah said, ever perceptive. "Tonight, you have no worries. My djinn will take over security, and Carmelita and I will take care of you."

He nodded. "I could really use a good night's sleep."

"Such luxuries are within our power to provide," Carmelita said as she reached for his coat to remove it.

The two of them removed his clothes, and once all three of them were down to their skivvies, they got into bed with Wade lying between them. Carmelita and Shiklah held hands atop Wade's chest, and the two talked about all the things he missed over the last couple months. Wade kept glancing over at their daemons, who were all three nestled together in a large pillowed basket by the bed. Bugamil and Arkaitz were grooming Bob, and Bob seemed to enjoy their ministrations.

Wade sighed and closed his eyes. He was safe, surrounded by the ones who love him. Evan was safe. Bob was relaxed. Wade just wished he felt happy. He should be happy, instead of feeling like there was something missing.

***

Gwen lay on her back on the corner of Peter's bedside table, furiously rolling a ball with a tiny bell inside up and down her belly while Peter sat on his bed trying to answer an email from Aunt May. So far, he'd written, Sorry I haven't answered sooner, and spent the next twenty minutes staring at the screen with his chin resting in his palm.

"You are an idiot," Gwen suddenly said as she chucked the bell-ball at him.

The ball landed on the bed with a light jingle, and Peter looked at her. Gwen stared back, a snarl on her little nose. Peter sighed, and said, "Why am I an idiot? Because I don't want to be part of some weird foursome?"

"Just admit that you have actual feelings for the guy," Gwen said with complete exasperation. "Or better yet, admit it to him, and stop all this jealous moping around."

"He knows how I feel," Peter said as he flopped onto his back on the bed, making the ball fly away. Gwen gave him a glare, and Peter groaned and got up to retrieve the ball. "And I'm not moping."

"Sure you're not." Gwen rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Peter. Do you think I don't know you? Do you think that you can in anyway hide things from me? Would I even want to be there if you didn't? We are one being."

"I'm not that person," Peter said. He looked back at the screen and blindly handed the ball back to Gwen.

"You weren't the guy who jumped off buildings and climbed walls, either," Gwen said. Then she threw the ball at him, this time hitting the keyboard. "You also weren't the guy to be rebellious against the Magisterium, but you're working for Tony Stark. You used to be scared to call yourself a scientist or say the word 'Dust', but here you are."

Peter sighed. "Your point?"

"The point is, is that outside your comfort zone is where everything happens." Gwen jumped onto the bed and ran over to sit on his knee. "The truth is that you already know what is going to happen. Soon, Wade is going to leave and he's not coming back, and you'll always regret that you didn't take a chance. Seriously, what have you got to lose?"

Peter shook his head. "My self respect?"

"Or maybe you'll find out it isn't all that weird," Gwen answered.

Peter let out an exasperated sigh. "What am I supposed to do? Just strip down and join in?"

Before Peter could say anything, he heard a soft knock on the door. His heart was suddenly pounding against his ribs, because the only person who ever knocked on his door this time of night was Wade. He set aside his laptop and opened the door, only to find Shiklah standing in the hall wearing a bra and panties with her daemon curled around her shoulders like a shawl.

Peter made sure to keep his eyes on her face, and said, "Uh, is something wrong? Something I can help you with?"

"I want you to sleep with my husband," Shiklah answered.

Peter choked on air, and had to take a moment to regain his composure. "Uh, w-what?"

She planted a hand on her sharp hip. "Look, I know my husband. I know him better than he knows himself." Then she leaned closer to Peter and said, "And I know that you have experienced his touch."

Peter cleared his throat, his face heating. "I, uh, we, um. We haven't. There's been no—"

"You know what I mean," Shiklah said, giving him a meaningful look. She smiled, her eyes shining as she said, "You know what it is like to be filled by his light. That strange sensation that makes all the dark places inside disappear, like morning sun or the brightest full moon."

The only thing Peter could do was nod.

Shiklah added, "You do realize that it does not happen to everyone he touches."

"It's his Dust," Peter said. "I've observed it. He transfers Dust with his touch to everybody."

"Yes, I know." Shiklah was silent a moment a far away look in her eyes. Then she said, "It is true that everyone he touches gets a little bit of a lift from it. As you put it, their Dust rises. But this is different, what you and I feel. Carmelita only feels a little happier when he touches her, which she says is the same as affection from anyone. For me, every time he touches me it is like a revelation. I feel like the Cosmos has opened itself."

Again, Peter nodded.

Shiklah smiled. "If that is what you feel, then it is only natural that you should want him."

"I-I do, but…" Peter shook his head, and said, "This is strange for me. Okay? It's really strange that you are standing here in your underwear asking me to sleep with your husband."

"Do you know what I am?" Shiklah asked with a coy look.

Peter shrugged. "A witch?"

She laughed, and said, "I am one of the Shedim. A succubus. My people are manifestations of desire. We revel in lust and feed off of sex and the sweet tasting perfume of lovers."

"So you're saying—"

"I am telling you that it would give me great pleasure for you to fuck my husband," she said bluntly. "I want both of you to fulfill your desires. I want the ember of lust his Dust has ignited in you to grow into a roaring flame. It will be exquisite for me."

"I, uh, I don't know what to say to that," Peter said, still not wanting to look anywhere but her face.

"It is simple," she said, stepping closer to him, close enough he could feel the strange chill that radiated off of her. "Say yes."

"C-can I think about it?" Peter managed to say, though his throat felt like it was closing.

"Yes, you may." Shiklah smiled sweetly, which was somehow more frightening than her seductress routine. Then she stepped back, turning on her heels and saying over her shoulder, "Don't think too long, Peter. We leave in three days."

The door closed, and Peter remained in the hall with possibly the most awkward boner of his life, his mind trying desperately to focus on something that wasn't the lingering perfumed, purple glow that filled his vision.

"Holy shit," Gwen said, her mouth hanging open and eyes wide. She looked up at him, and said, "Okay, so are you waiting on a written invitation now, or—?"

Peter let out a shaky breath, and said, "Tomorrow. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

Chapter Text

Wade woke to the sound of Shiklah and Carmelita talking and giggling beside him in the bed, Shiklah pressed up against his side with Carmelita's head resting on her outstretched arm. He stretched and rolled onto his side, snuggling against Shiklah's back, his arm draped across both of them.

"Good morning, my love," Shiklah said as he kissed her shoulder.

Carmelita said, "You slept good, yes?"

"Like a baby," Wade answered. He didn't know how they did it, but Wade always slept well when he was with Shiklah and Carm. He trusted them, and he trusted so few people. Especially when unconscious. "What were you two giggling about?"

"Other than total world domination?" Shiklah said as she rolled onto her back and looked up at him.

"Nothing, querido," Carmelita answered, the picture of innocence.

"You are so convincing," Wade said looking from one to the other.

Carmelita laughed. "Do you not trust us?"

Shiklah caressed his cheek, running her thumb along a long scar that crossed his chin, and said, "We only wish for your happiness."

"You're laying it on pretty thick, babe." Wade laughed, and asked, "Does this have to do with your late-night underwear stroll through the Institute?"

Shiklah smiled and said, "You're so suspicious, my love. I just needed to take a walk."

"To Peter's door," Carmelita said with a grin.

Wade sighed. "You didn't mind-whammy him, did you?"

"Of course not!" Shiklah said defiantly. "Truth is, it is unnecessary. The boy is hopeless for you. I can smell it on him."

"Please stop sniffing people, Shik," Wade said. "It is actually considered impolite among humans and pretty much everyone else."

"My love, I—"

A knock on the door interrupted whatever it was that Shiklah was about to say, and Wade jumped up and pulled on his lounge pants. He half expected Peter to be outside his door, considering Peter was the only one who ever knocked. Instead, he found Steve Rogers standing in the hall looking exhausted and worried, with Peggy standing alert at his side. The daemon looked just as agitated with the way she fidgeted.

"I know it's early," Steve said. He looked past Wade, and continued, "And I know you're probably busy."

Wade stepped out in the hall, pulling the door almost closed, and said, "Something wrong, Cap?"

"It's Bucky," Steve said. He sighed, heavily, his broad shoulders dropping and hand going to Peggy's large head. "He's not very lucid, and he needs to give his permission for the procedure. I need—"

"You need my magic touch," Wade said.

Steve nodded. "I know it is kind of strange to ask."

Wade shrugged. "It's not a big deal, man. Give me a minute to get dressed."

He walked back inside, where both Shiklah and Carmelita were sitting on the edge of the bed, Carmelita with her legs across Shiklah's lap. Both looked up at Steve, who blushed and looked away and said, "Good morning, ladies."

"Good morning," Shiklah said with a smile.

Steve fidgeted. "I'm, uh, sorry to wake you up."

"Don't worry, Captain," Carmelita said. "We were already wide awake."

From the bathroom, Wade said, "Behave yourselves."

Shiklah laughed, then said, "I have very high hopes for your friend and this procedure, Captain Rogers. High Brazil has a very large population of oblated citizens who are there seeking asylum. If Mr. Stark and Mr. Parker's artificial daemon is successful, I hope I can send some of our doctors to learn the process."

"I'm sure Tony would be fine with that," Steve said with a smile.

Wade came out of the bathroom fully dressed, and only paused a moment to kiss both of his wives before stepping out in the hall with Steve. The two walked to the medical unit, mostly in silence until Steve said, "I really am sorry if I interrupted anything."

"You didn't," Wade said with a chuckle. "We were just talking. Despite the whole poly-relationship thing, we don't spend all our time rutting like weasels."

Steve laughed and shook his head. Then he asked, "How does it work, though? Isn't there jealousy or hurt feelings?"

Wade shrugged. "Not really. We're all equals. Shik and Carm have nights when they only want to be with each other. Same goes with me and Shik or Carm."

"Do you ever, uh, well, all three of you?" Steve asked, his face turning a darker shade of red.

"More often than not." Wade stopped, giving Steve a curious look. "I have the feeling you're asking all of this for a reason."

Steve laughed nervously. "I'm just, you know, curious."

"Right," Wade said. "None of this curiosity has to do with a certain billionaire or a shaggy haired lifemate at all."

"Uh," was all Steve managed.

Wade shrugged. "I guess the most important thing is to make sure that everyone knows what's going on."

"If you sleep in the same room, wouldn't it be kind of clear what's going on?" Steve asked.

"Not necessarily. Sex is just one aspect of being poly." Wade thought about it for a minute. "For example, if two individuals happen to have a more romantic attachment, that needs to be known by all parties. If two happen to have a more physical relationship, that needs to be known by all parties. If you happen to have desires for things that go outside of what the others can provide, everyone needs to know."

Steve nodded. "So basically, be honest."

"Exceptionally honest." Wade gestured behind them, and said, "My wives know me better than anyone else. They know everything about me that can be known for a guy with a really bad memory. They know the good, the bad, and the ugly, and the same goes for them."

"That sounds kind of scary," Steve said softly.

"It is scary," Wade said. "It's scarier when your significant others start shopping for boyfriends for you."

Steve's eyes went wide. "They do that?"

"They're doing it right now," Wade said as he started walking again.

Steve sounded very concerned. "Uh, they don't think you and me?"

"No, Cap." Wade chuckled, and said, "They have their sights set on Bambi across the hall from me."

Steve smiled. "I'd say that all of you have the same aim."

"True story, but I'm working," Wade said as they entered the medical wing.

"I was working when I came here, too." Steve directed Wade towards Bucky's room, and all hint of humor drained away from the captain's face upon seeing Bucky laying in his hospital bed, his silver eyes staring blankly ahead.

"It started last night. He got confused when we were talking." Steve sat on the bed beside him, and there was no reaction from the other man. "This morning I woke and he—" Steve had to clear his throat before continuing, "he was like this."

Bucky didn't react when Steve brushed the hair out of Bucky's face. Steve sighed and said, "If this procedure doesn't work, I don't know what I'll do."

"You'll do the right thing," Wade said with certainty. "That's what you do, Cap."

"Sometimes the right thing feels like cutting off a limb," Steve said. Then he sighed. "He said I need to let him go. Live my life. That just… That is so hard."

Wade put a hand on Steve's shoulder and said, "It's too early to admit defeat."

Steve smiled at him. "Thanks, Wade."

Wade put his other hand on Bucky's forearm, and the effect was almost instantaneous. Bucky's face twitched, his eyes blinking a few times before focusing on Steve. He smiled and said, "I guess I must have stepped out again."

"Just for a minute," Steve said softly as Wade stepped away from the bed.

"I was dreaming again," Bucky said. He squeezed Steve's hand and said, "They were good dreams this time, though."

Steve sniffled, and Wade gave him a pat on the shoulder before going to the door.

He stopped short when Bucky said, "Hey, Wade. When this whole surgery thing is done, you and me need to have a beer or something."

"You're buying, right?" Wade said with a smirk.

"Absolutely." Bucky smiled and said, "Now get the hell out of my room. It's sponge-bath time."

Wade laughed, and walked out the door.

***

Peter wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when his alarm sounded, but he knew it wasn't long enough. His eyes were grainy and his head hurt. His sheets were sticky from sweat and stiff from other things that made him groan upon remembering just how many times he ended up jerking off the night before.

Not only that, the dreams. The dreams were not clearly defined in his memory, more like hazy colored feelings that defied explanation. Still, he knew that Wade was in them. Wade was the subject and the verb.

The only thing that Peter wanted when he woke was Wade Wilson. He wanted desperately to blame Shiklah. He wanted to convince himself that the succubus had done some weird magic that turned him into a mess of arousal. Truth was, Peter was always turned on by Wade. It was the Dust, he reminded himself. Still, his cock was hard and Peter let out a frustrated sigh as he got up from the bed and walked stiffly to the bathroom.

After violently brushing his teeth to the point his gums bled, Peter decided that needed to find some kind of resolution to this whole situation. More than anything, he needed to know if the feelings he had were mutual. Acting on them wasn't even the issue; he just needed to know what Wade really felt, if anything at all.

Except that this was the day of Bucky's procedure, and Peter didn't have time for this nonsensical high school drama. He needed to be in the medical department at 9 o'clock, and it was already 7:30. And yeah, it was a short walk and in the same building. Still, he needed to shower, go through all of his notes, prep the Dust capture apparatus, and probably eat something considering that Dr. Foster believed that the surgery could last upwards of 12 hours.

Peter needed to get his head on straight. He needed to push aside all of this built-up tension and focus on the moment. Just stay on track. Get what needed to be done accomplished. Shave. Shower. Clothes.

As he showered, his mind kept drifting back to Shiklah. Shiklah outright demanded that Peter have sex with Wade, which made the idea feel so much more erotic. There was still that sensation of doing something forbidden, which was a mix of confusing and arousing. Maybe it was the whole Shedim thing…

"You really need to focus or you're going to slip and break your neck, and I doubt you want people to find your bed a stiff mess," Gwen said from her bathtub.

Peter sighed at his dick, and said, "Yeah. I'm focusing."

Ten minutes later, Peter got out of the shower and as soon as he stepped into his room he could smell the warm aroma of coffee in the air. Just that scent was enough to give Peter direction. He was going to go across the hall, probably politely ask to talk to Wade alone, and then he would… He… Uh...

"What am I supposed to say?" Peter asked Gwen, who was looking up at him from the pocket of his lab coat. "I mean, how direct am I supposed to be about this?"

"You could just say your wife gave me the green light; let's do the dirty," Gwen suggested with a grin.

"That is horrible," Peter said.

Gwen shrugged.

"I'll ask him to go to lunch. Dinner. Supper. Food, I'll ask him to join me for food," Peter said as he grabbed the door knob. He paused, and asked, "Or, uh, maybe I could ask him to go for a run or something?"

Gwen sighed.

Peter sighed, too, and opened the door only to find Wade just enter the hall, looking like he'd been awake for quite a while. He was smiling, looking kind of amused. And when his eyes settled on Peter, his smile brightened.

"Mornin, sleepy head," he said as he approached. "What are you up to?"

"I'm actually looking for you," Peter responded. "I need to talk to you about something."

Wade raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" He smirked. "About what?"

"About your wife, actually," Peter said.

Wade kind of cringed. "Yeah, I know she stopped by your room last night."

"Yeah, she did." Peter stepped closer to Wade. "She said—"

The sound of Wade's door made them both look. Peter expected a wife to emerge, but instead the door only opened a crack so that Bob could walk out before quickly shutting. Wade chuckled as Gwen popped out of Peter's pocket and ran down Peter's body to greet the parrot. The two daemons nuzzled each other enthusiastically, Gwen rubbed her face against Bob's, and Bob nibbled on her back making her squeak with joy.

Wade looked back at Peter. "You were saying?"

"Uh, well, she." Peter's eyes went a little wide, and he cleared his throat. "She said you and I…" Peter could feel heat rising to his face as he said, "shouldprobablyfuckorsomething."

Wade snorted a laugh, and said, "What was that, baby boy?"

Peter moved closer, so that there could be no misunderstanding as he softly said, "Your wife. Wants us. To do things. Sexual things."

"That sounds like something she would say," Wade said with a breathy laugh. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I'm sorry for her being so, um, forward? She doesn't exactly get normal human interactions or knows that you're not supposed to just proposition random men to have sex with your pansexual husband."

Peter chuckled, and said, "Does she do this often?"

"No," Wade answered. It was his turn to blush, the pink accenting the scars of his face as he said, "This is the first time."

Peter laughed. "Yeah. Me too."

That was when Peter's cell phone chimed. It was Tony asking where he was, and Peter gave a quick response before saying, "I guess I'm trying to say that, uh, I'm on board if you are. I kind of have a long day today, but after a nap and an energy drink, if you want to come over for a bit…"

"You are so romantic," Wade said with a laugh. "Is that really what you want?"

"I want to know what you want," Peter answered.

Wade again rubbed the back of his neck and said, "There's some things I need to take care of before I can say yes." At Peter's awkward look, Wade added, "I am interested. I am. Don't doubt that."

"Well, I have like 12 hours of surgery today, so you have time." Peter smiled and stepped a little closer, close enough he could feel the heat that radiated off of the merc. He only had to tilt his chin up and Wade met his lips with a kiss. At that point of contact, a wave of electricity flowed into Peter that made everything feel brighter and lighter, like sun shining through the curtains.

Wade punctuated the kiss with another brief peck of lips, and said with a voice that was a little breathless, "I'll see you later, Spidey."

"You better," Peter said, doing his best to sound cocky, but the grin on his face sort of ruined the effect. He picked up Gwen, who pouted upon departing Bob's back, and Peter started down the hall with a bit more pep in his step.

And if hearing Shiklah high-five Wade upon opening the door made Peter's smile that much wider, well, that was his business.

***

A little after 12 o'clock, Wade knocked on Evan's door. Shiklah and Carmelita had dressed in their most corporate attire and at the invitation of Tony Stark, went down to the surgical theater where Bucky's operation was being performed. Wade was invited too, but he opted out with a smile. He picked up some sandwiches from the cafeteria, talked to Natasha for a few minutes about handing Quire over to the Gray Warriors, and then returned to the room.

He knocked again after Evan didn't answer. After a third knock, Wade opened the door to find Evan sitting at the window staring outside, his notebook in his lap and the alethiometer in his hand. He wasn't writing, just sitting there. At first Wade thought he had fallen asleep in his chair, but then he saw him blink.

Wade put the sack of food on the small, messy table and said, "I've never been good with silence. Mind telling me what's going on?"

Evan looked down at his notebook. It was almost full, only two blank pages left. He'd filled it in two days. Two days in which he barely slept, barely ate, and felt nothing but a growing hollowness. Quire's presence made everything shift. Everything felt foreign again, just like the day he lost his family. Only he didn't lose them. Some of them never really existed. Or at least, not in a way that he believed. Nothing that he knew was real and everything felt wrong.

He hoped that if he studied the alethiometer hard enough, he might find clues to understanding everything. He asked, framing questions in many ways, and writing down all the bits that he could remember, then repeating the process only to come up with a jumble of scenes and events that lacked continutity or meaning. He had a full notebook, and he had learned nothing.

"Evan?" Wade said, his voice soft and full of concern.

Evan flinched at Wade's voice, then took a long deep breath. "Nothing. Just…" He sighed. "I'm scared."

"Understandable," Wade said softly. "There's a lot going on right now."

"It's not that," Evan said. He turned towards Wade. "I just feel like I'm going from prison to prison. I know you want me to go to High Brazil. I just… I'm tired of being places where I don't fit in. And I'm tired of having to hide. I'm sick of it."

"High Brazil will be different, Ev. It will be a lot different," Wade said with a smile. "You won't have to hide from anyone there. The Magisterium has no presence there." Wade sighed and said, "Honestly, if it wasn't for Cluster, I would have brought you there in the first place."

Evan frowned and said, "I'll still stand out. And it will be even worse when I get older. En Sabah Nur was a giant. I'm a freak."

"You won't stand out, Evan," Wade said with knowing look.

Evan's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Wade slid the sack of breakfast food towards him and said, "Eat first. Then maybe take a shower, because you're kinda getting funky my little friend. Then I'll introduce you to my brother-in-laws."

"Brother-in-laws?" Evan said, frowning down at the bag.

"Baqir and Amjad. They are twins, and, well, you just have to meet them to understand." Wade smiled and said, "Eat."

Celestia nudged the bag towards Evan, and Evan sat at the table with a heavy sigh and opened the bag. He took a bite, doing his best to look heavily put upon, but suddenly his stomach took control and Evan ate the entire sandwich with only a few bites. When Wade slid a second to him, Evan did not fight about it.

After eating and showering, and Wade insisting that he brush his teeth and comb his unruly hair, Evan walked to the aerodock where Shiklah's plane was docked inside one of the massive hangars. As they crossed the landing area, Evan could see several very tall people with silver-gray skin walking around the aircraft. Most of them were dressed in black clothes that reminded Evan of pictures he'd seen of royalty from desert of Africa. They wore a long black outer cloak that was embellished with intricate silver embroidery, over a pristine white linen tunic and white linen pants with sandals on their feet. Their heads were covered by a black and white keffiyeh held in place by a black band, one edge draped across their faces.

As they entered the hangar, Wade said in a voice that echoed through the cavernous building, "Amjad! Baqir! Get out here!"

Two men also with gray skin but dressed in black suits, appeared at the door of the aircraft with their matching black cat daemons in the crook of their arms. They both smiled brightly and descended the stairs to stroll quickly to Wade. They sandwiched Wade in a giant hug, lifting him off the floor and making him groan as the air was squeezed from his lungs. Evan kept his distance, his mind too wrapped up in seeing the gray skinned men with their black markings on their faces. He touched his own face and suddenly didn't feel so weird.

Then Amjad and Baqir slapped Wade on the back, a brotherly gesture, and Amjad asked, "Who is your friend?"

"Or captive?" Baqir said, looking at Evan. "He looks a bit frightened."

"Who wouldn't be frightened having to see your ugly face, brother," Amjad said back with a laugh.

Baqir rolled his eyes. "Be kind, brother. He's not used to our japes."

Evan blinked. "Japes?"

Wade chucked. "Uh, yeah. They are kind of, well—"

"We like a good joke," Amjad and Baqir said in unison.

"And you look like you could use some humor in your life," Baqir said, almost consolingly.

"Yes, yes." Amjad put his arm around Wade and said, "Our dear brother here often craves our mirth."

Wade mouthed, "Not really."

Baqir let out a big, booming laugh, and said, "Perhaps you could introduce your small friend, brother?"

"His name's Evan," Wade answered.

"Evan Sabahnur," Evan said.

Amjad nodded. "I knew it! You have a noble face. I could see it when you walked up."

"Indeed," Baqir agreed. "You are no doubt a shedim. I'm shocked our little brother didn't tell us."

"Little brother?" Evan said, almost laughing but not really sure why.

"Wade is tiny," Baqir answered, waving his hand over Wade's head. He and Amjad were both a head taller than Wade.

Amjad added, "But our sister adores him."

"He's a real charmer," Baqir said as he linked arms with Wade. "I dare not speak of the noises we have endured."

"Please don't," Wade said. "He's twelve."

Now Evan was fully laughing, Celestia snickering on his shoulder.

Amjad nodded, and said, "Yes. We must behave, brother. For now."

"How about a tour of the plane?" Baqir suggested.

The inside of Shiklah's plane was very luxurious, with large comfortable seats, wide walkways, relaxing colors, and sleeping quarters that would make most hotels look like hovels unfit for a wild boar. There were two floors, the upper level for passengers should the need arise, and the lower for meetings should Shiklah need to discuss business with some dignitary. Everything was polished and Evan was almost afraid to touch anything.

As they went through the plane, Baqir and Amjad introduced Evan to the Gray Warriors they encountered. Some were doing maintenance, others cleaning. They all uncovered their faces to greet Evan, and Evan realized that most of them had facial markings just like his, black lines extending from his black lips and up along his jawbone.

Finally, Evan had to stop and ask Wade in a hushed voice, "Why do they all look like me?"

"I really don't know, Ev," Wade answered with a shrug. "I just know that they do. I'm sure if you were to ask Shiklah or Amjad and Baqir, they would tell you. Or even ask them."

Evan nodded and asked, "Are there more of them?"

Wade nodded. "Hundreds."

They finished the tour in the cockpit, where Baqir and Amjad both enthusiastically insisted that Evan and Wade join them for lunch and perhaps a few rounds of chess, which the brothers particularly loved to play and play by their own rules. Evan looked at Wade and Wade said, "Whatever you want to do, kid."

Between Amjad and Baqir's jokes and japes, the chess game, the creative dinner choices, and a plethora of other diversions, time went by fast. Fast enough that Wade was surprised to see that the sun was starting to get low in the sky when Shiklah and Carmelita entered the aircraft. Wade was thrilled to see them. As much as he liked his brother-in-laws, after a while he was close to wanting to strangle them. He'd done it before.

"Surgery finished?" Wade asked softly.

"He is recovering," Shiklah answered. "It was quite fascinating. This Dr. Foster is absolutely brilliant. She has such delicate and precise hands. I intend to entice her to come to High Brazil and train our doctors."

Wade smiled, but saw something else in Shiklah's eyes. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," she answered with a sweet smile.

Carmelita gave the same innocent look, and said, "You probably should get back to the Institute, though."

Wade frowned, looking at Evan who was wrapped up in the latest game of Divide and Conquer (Chess) with Baqir. "I don't really want to make Evan leave just yet."

"Evan can stay here with us, if he wishes," Shiklah said, much louder than was necessary. Loud enough that Evan heard her.

He looked up at Wade and said with surprise and cautious joy in his voice, "Can I stay here?"

Wade squinted at Shiklah and Carm, then said to Evan, "If you want to. I'm sure that the Gray Warriors will be ample protection. But if you need me—"

"I'll be fine," Evan said with a bright smile. Wade felt his heart swelling just seeing that look. "I like Amjad and Baqir."

"And we like you," Amjad and Baqir said in unison.

"We will watch over him," Baqir promised sincerely.

Amjad nodded. "He is already our newest little brother."

Evan was beaming.

Shiklah linked her arm with Wade's and pulled him towards the door and said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "You have the night off, my love."

"Use it well, querido," Carmelita added with a pat on his butt.

Wade's voice was low so that only Shiklah and Carm could hear him. "You two are either the best or the worst wingmen in history. I don't know if I should love or hate you."

Shiklah's eyes glowed a subtle pink as she leaned to his ear. Her voice was a soft purr as she whispered, "You'll know in the morning."

Wade shook his head and said, "I'll see you all later."

"Mañana," Carmelita said with a wink.

They both kissed him on the cheek, then Shiklah shooed him out the door. Wade stood at the top of the steps, taking a moment to appreciate what just happened. Shiklah and Carmelita, his wives of a decade, just shooed him away expecting him to go forth and fornicate. Wade chuckled and shook his head and started back to the Institute.

Chapter Text

The closer Wade got to the building, the more nervous he became. He held Bob in the crook of his arm, stroking his feathers with his fingertips. It was one thing to have permission to do something or to even  want  to do something, and actually doing the thing. There was no doubt that he was interested in Peter, but Wade had never been good at one-night stands. He tended to get attached to people. He was already pretty attached to Peter; Bob was in the same boat with Gwen. Bob always got along well with Bugamil and Arkaitz, but it wasn't with the same enthusiasm he showed with Gwen.

Wade stopped on the steps and held Bob up to eye level, and asked, "Any words of wisdom for me?"

Bob shrugged his wings.

"You're always so helpful," Wade said and he bumped his nose against Bob's beak. He quickly ascended the stairs to his floor, walking directly to Peter's door. For a moment, he stood frozen in place, staring at the wood grain and feeling like he was about to jump into the unknown. He felt like he was at the end of something. Maybe the beginning. Or just somewhere different. He was nervous and uncertain, especially about something that he knew he wanted.

Almost timidly, he knocked on Peter's door.

There was the sound of fumbling and soft cursing, then Peter opened the door and grinned upon seeing Wade. He immediately stepped back and said, "Come in. I'm, uh. I was just tidying up a bit. I was starting to wonder if you'd come or not."

"I guess that's up to you," Wade said, chuckling at the innuendo and Peter's sudden blush. "Sorry, I couldn't pass that up."

They both fell silent, sort of awkwardly standing near each other. They both had a good idea of what they were here for, why they were alone in Peter's room. There had been quite a bit of build up to this moment, but it was a stutterd build up that came in spontaneous bursts of hormones and unplanned moments. Perhaps that was why it felt awkward: this was planned.

Wade laughed, and rubbed the back of his neck and said, "So, uh, how was surgery?"

"Good." Peter nodded. "It was good. Went perfectly. Perfectly good."

"Good," Wade said. Then he laughed and said, "We're a couple of dorks, you know that?"

"Yeah," Peter said, laughing softly. He gestured towards the bed and said, "Want to sit?"

Wade sat, eyes roaming around the room and settling on a couple items on the bedside table with the Stark logo. He picked them up, and looked at Peter, chuckling as he said, "Stark Institute has branded condoms and lube?"

"They come with the intern orientation packet," Peter said with a laugh in his voice. "I haven't had any use for them."

Wade raised an eyebrow and put them back on the table and looked down at their daemons. Bob was already nestled in a familiar looking basket with Gwen snuggled under his wing. Wade watched how their daemons playfully touched each other, and Wade realized the basket was one that Shiklah usually kept on the plane. He knew because of the royal purple pillow in the bottom. She planned ahead. He had to wonder what other provisions she had lined up for the evening, considering how mischievous she tended to be.

The bed dipped when Peter sat beside him, sitting sideways to face Wade. He had a small smile on his face, one that had become pretty familiar over the last couple months. The fact that Wade was responsible for it being there did funny things to the merc. Meeting Peter's eyes did even more exciting things to Wade. It made his skin tingle and heart pound.

"How…" Peter started, his face turning scarlet. "How do you want to do this?"

Wade cleared his throat, though he still sounded a little hoarse as he said, "I've, um, only done this a few times. I mean, with another guy." He turned towards Peter and said, "What are you comfortable with?"

Peter swallowed hard. "I've only done this a few times, too. So, maybe we could just, I don't know, take things slow? Figure out what's comfortable as we go?"

Wade nodded. "That works."

Then, almost timidly, Peter kissed him. It was an innocent action. Sweet. They exchanged these small affections, moving closer together on the edge of the bed. At first it was only their lips that touched, then hands moved to touch and caress, moving from gentle to more bold. The kisses became bolder, too. Their mouths opening, heads tilting and slotting together as Wade's hands tangled into Peter's unruly hair and Peter's hands twisted into the sides of Wade's shirt. They explored each other's mouths, Peter enjoying the soft moan that escaped Wade when he sucked on the merc's bottom lip.

They parted for a moment to catch their breath, both men smiling and panting. When their eyes met, they both laughed. Peter hadn't done anything like this in a long time. His relationship (if you wanted to call it that) with Eddie Brock had been mostly physical. There was very little kissing or affection. It was mostly just getting each other off after doing something exceptionally daring. Wade on the other hand, was very comfortable with these exchanges. He wasn't pushing for more, but rather content with the pace that Peter set.

Peter's mouth began to wander from Wade's lips to his neck, nipping at the thick muscle and scarred flesh. If the sounds Wade made were anything to go by, Peter was doing everything right. Meanwhile, one of Peter's hands found its way under Wade's shirt, his fingertips tracing the puckered line of scar tissue that formed the shape of a question mark. Peter remembered well the strange markings that were etched into Wade's chest, markings that he was certain represented some kind of magic.

He moved his hand up Wade's side, lifting his shirt as he did, and departed Wade's mouth to ask, "Can I take this off?"

There was a moment of hesitation, and Peter was about to backtrack before Wade nodded. Peter quickly removed the garment, and took a moment to drink in the sight of Wade's bare torso. He was again struck by the violent beauty of Wade's scars. He wanted to tell Wade just how beautiful he believed them to be, but he could tell that Wade was very self-conscious and feeling quite vulnerable being under Peter's gaze.

Peter again kissed Wade, attacking the merc's mouth with a sudden burst of passion and aggression. Wade let Peter invade, finding himself flat on his back on the bed with Peter settled above him, one knee between Wade's thighs. Wade wrapped his arms around the younger man, hands moving up and down Peter's spine and sliding up into his hair, enjoying the soft friction provided by Peter's thigh. His hand found its way to Peter's waistband, tugging him flush against him.

Their movements became more intense, their kisses more aggressive, until they were both panting and rutting against each other until Wade gripped Peter's hips, making him still. He took a deep breath, letting out slow as he said, "Keep this up, I'm gonna make a mess."

"Yeah," was all Peter could manage. He rolled onto his side beside Wade as they both took a few calming breaths. There was no need to rush. Hell, Peter was actually starving having eaten nothing since breakfast that morning. Right on cue, Peter's stomach growled audibly making them both laugh.

Wade clapped a hand on Peter's thigh, and said, "Sounds like we need to take a break."

Peter nodded and sat up. "I… I think I have some protein bars somewhere around here."

Wade grabbed his shirt and said, "How about we get some real food. No reason to skimp. Like I said, I have the night off."

It took a little longer to exit the room than they planned, mainly because of their daemons. Both were in a state of hazy bliss that sometimes happened when humans had sex. They appeared almost drunk with the lust that Peter and Wade were experiencing. Wade tucked Bob into the crook of his arm, the parrot's eyes glazed and locked on Gwen, who was in pretty much the same state.

In the cafeteria kitchen, Wade and Peter went to work building a couple of sandwiches. Peter piled on the vegetables and Wade stuck with meat and cheese. They stood together at the counter eating and feeding their hormone-drunk daemons a few bites. Peter was mesmerized by the movement of Wade's jaw with every bite, his mind drifting to things like wondering what kind of gag reflex Wade had or if he was even inclined towards oral.

Wade caught him watching, and asked, "See something you like?"

"Yeah, I do," Peter said before popping the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth.

Wade did the same, and they commenced to cleaning up the small mess they made, pausing a few times to exchange kisses. Kisses that went from almost chaste to substantially more erotic in a very short timespan, to the point they were both semi-hard and having to once again stop touching to keep from having any awkward looks should they pass someone in the hall.

Peter felt like a lightbulb. He knew it was because he was so full of Wade's Dust. Everything seemed to be glowing, as if he could see the invisible particles that only his specialized cameras and emulsions could detect. His scientist mind tried to explain this effect, but it was an effect he only really noticed when Wade wasn't touching him. And, thankfully, Wade was touching him a lot. Perhaps tomorrow or the next day, when Wade was gone, Peter would sit down and think clearly about being so full of another's Dust.

But that thought… It wasn't a good one. It slowed Peter's steps, and when they got back to his room, Peter closed the door and found himself unable to let go of the door knob. Peter rested his forehead against the cool wood, and tried to push the gloomy thought of the merc leaving out of his mind. A moment later he felt Wade's hand rest on his hip. Peter took a deep breath and turned towards him, his emotions clearly written on his face.

"What's wrong?" Wade asked, cupping Peter's cheek with one rough palm.

Peter looked into Wade's golden eyes, and said, "You're leaving." He could see the world becoming blurry as he said, "I think I just realized I'm going to miss you."

"I'm gonna miss you too, Spidey." A sad smile crossed Wade's lips, lips that then pressed against the dampness that streaked down Peter's face.

When Wade again met Peter's eyes, Peter felt something inside break free. He no longer felt awkward or nervous, he only felt a desperate need to have Wade in all the ways he could. He pulled Wade to him, kissing him like he would never see him again. Knowing that it might be the truth.

In one quick move, Peter pushed Wade against the door. There was a look of surprise that widened Wade's eyes before Peter's mouth again crushed against his. Wade wasn't sure what had happened, but he was enjoying it. He loved the way that Peter clamped his arms above his head and plundered his mouth. This was the thing he wanted. He wanted the bare desire that he felt coming from the other, wanted to feel firm hands and raw passion.

Peter stepped back only to remove his shirt, and Wade wanted to taste and touch every inch of the perfect skin exposed. He explored with his hands and mouth, following the contour of muscle with fingertips and tongue until he was on his knees. Wade gripped Peter's belt and looked up at him for confirmation before whipping the leather out of the loops and undoing Peter's jeans.

The moment Peter felt the warm, wet suction of Wade's mouth, he almost came undone. He leaned against the door, propped by one hand, the other hand resting on the top of Wade's scarred head as he fought the urge to fuck the merc's mouth. Peter had to focus on his breathing to keep his orgasm at bay, until finally he gripped the base of his cock and put a hand on Wade's shoulder, and gasped out, "Bed. Bed. Now."

Wade wasted no time removing his clothes on the way to the bed, kicking off his boots and tossing his shirt, jeans, and boxers towards the bathroom door. Peter kicked off the rest of his clothes and with a gentle shove, pushed Wade onto the bed and grabbed a condom and lube off the bedside table. Peter drizzled lube onto the fingers of his right hand and settled in between Wade's legs, leaning down to kiss the merc before hitching Wade's leg onto his shoulder.

The first touch of Peter's fingers against Wade's entrance was cool, sending a shiver through Wade's heated body. His breath became shallow as Peter stretched and probed into him, his cock throbbing and pleasure sweeping through him each time Peter's fingers brushed against that sensitive spot. Wade rose up to kiss Peter, his mouth moving with the rhythm that Peter set with his fingers.

"Fuck me, Spidey," Wade gasped.

He didn't have to ask twice. Peter withdrew his fingers and made quick work of the condom, and slicked up his cock with more lube. Wade arched his back, raising his hips, gasping at the feel of the head of Peter's cock catching against his hole. Peter moved slow, not wanting to hurt Wade or in any way make this less than pleasurable. And if the look on Wade's face was anything to go by, he was doing a damn good job.

"God damn, baby boy," Wade said on a breath. His whole body was tingling, thrumming with energy that made him writhe and practically beg, "Move, dammit."

"Pushy," Peter said, a little breathless. Wade was tight, and Peter needed a moment to get himself under control or this was going to be a really short ride. When he finally started to move, Wade wrapped his legs around Peter's waist, adjusting the angle so that every thrust struck his prostate.

Wade was shuddering and making low animal sounds that he couldn't have suppressed even if he wanted to. Peter didn't want him to. He drank in every moan, every shiver. He was drunk on the pleasure that made the air glow around them. Or maybe that was just the Dust. Or something else entirely, because now and then, Peter could swear he saw shapes and colors that didn't belong to this world. He was only vaguely aware that their daemons had practically dissolved into each other, and the closer they both came to climax, the less of the real world was visible, replaced by a haze of sensation and something ethereal.

More than anything, Peter felt alive. Startlingly alive, as if being connected to Wade in this way had opened his eyes to something he'd been missing. He held on to the merc, kissing him deeply as Wade's big hands gripped Peter's ass, wanting him closer. Deeper. Needing to be filled as Wade chased down his own orgasm.

Peter was getting close, and he pumped Wade's cock in time with his thrusts. The merc keened, his face screwing up in a look of absolute bliss as he came in hot spurts. The feel of Wade's body spasming sent Peter over the edge. He rested against his elbow, the only sound in the room that of their heavy breaths and the steady thud-thud of their pounding hearts.

When Peter opened his eyes, Wade was looking at him with a kind of awe that most reserved for gods. They kissed, no longer needy or desperate. Rather with a tenderness that was felt deep inside. They managed to clean each other up and drink a few sips of water before passing out, feeling utterly spent, their daemons both glowing softly in the darkness.

Chapter Text

Peter woke sometime in the morning feeling the warm weight of Wade's arm slung across his stomach, the merc's forehead resting against his shoulder. It felt good. Comfortable. Peter wasn't prepared to wake up feeling so at ease with a cuddly mercenary. He actually expected to wake up alone, that Wade would wake sometime and grab his clothes and sneak away. A part of him almost wished that he had, because now Peter knew how good it felt to wake up like this. Now he knew exactly what he was going to miss.

And it wasn't just the really incredible sex from the night before (which repeated around 2 in the morning...and again a little after 4). Wade was a friend that Peter never expected to make. Everything about their relationship was unexpected, and it had changed Peter's entire view of the Universe. Literally. Peter didn't want Wade to leave. He didn't want Wade to become a memory.

"Hey," came Wade's sleep-deepened voice. Peter looked at him and felt relieved when Wade kissed him. Peter didn't want to talk, because talking meant he would have to admit all the things happening in his mind. He wanted to stay immersed in the sensations, cocooned in the covers where he could pretend that they didn't have to say goodbye.

Eventually, things like hunger and thirst made them exit their nest. They showered together under the pretense that it would speed the process along. It didn't. They dried off and after Peter dressed, they walked across the hall with Wade wearing only a towel around his hips. Instead of immediately dressing, Wade started a pot of coffee.

"Where did you get this?" Peter asked, his eyes brightening as he picked up a red coffee cup with a spiderweb design on the surface and a large black spider on the side.

"Probably Shiklah," Wade answered. He shrugged, and said, "I don't question it. Things appear from time to time, and I just go with it."

Peter smiled at the cup, then said, "I like your wives."

Wade almost blushed as he said, "Yeah, well they seem to like you too."

"That kind of makes me happy," Peter said with a chuckle. "Is it weird that it makes me happy?"

"I don't think so." Wade kissed him, and said, "But who am I to judge?"

Peter held onto him and said, "I really don't want tomorrow to be the last time I ever see you."

Wade smiled and brushed a damp lock of hair from Peter's forehead. "Then it won't be." Wade kissed his forehead and said, "You get breaks, right? Time between projects?"

Peter nodded. "The Institute closes for a month in December."

"Come to High Brazil," Wade said. "It's nice and warm. I have a villa on the beach where clothing is optional. When I'm not working, I make a helluva margarita and have been known as a dancing machine."

Peter laughed. "That sounds nice, actually. Normally I just go stay with my aunt and play chess with a bunch of old ladies."

"Bring her, too." Wade shrugged at Peter's surprised look. "What? I want to meet your family too. And everything I've heard about this aunt of yours is pretty awesome. Besides, I've never met an old lady who didn't like expensive wine and a chaise."

"Good point." Peter smiled and asked, "What do you have to do today?"

Wade shrugged. "Just a few things, really. I need to break all the blood runes I've scattered around the grounds. And in this room. And probably the ones I did on your door."

Peter's eyebrows shot up. "You did blood spells on my door?"

Wade nodded. "This whole floor is protected. Hell, people can't even see it unless I put it into the spells."

"That is simultaneously sexy and scary as hell," Peter said with a laugh.

"Story of my life," Wade said with a grin. "But at least I'm a charming motherfucker."

"That you are," came Shiklah's voice from behind them. How she appeared in the hall was anyone's guess. Peter gave her a smile, though his face was burning and his heart was pounding because part of him was still convinced she was going to try to kill him. Instead, she greeted Wade with a soft kiss on the lips, then turned to Peter and kissed both of his cheeks.

"How was Evan's night?" Wade asked. The merc was smiling and it was infectious.

Shiklah laughed. "I think he found his tribe. Amjad and Baqir are quite attached to him. The only question I have is should I address him as Evan or start calling him 'son'."

"That's up to him," Wade answered. "Natasha is still looking for what's left of his family, and he wants to talk to Ozymandias. We can't force him to be family, but we can still treat him that way."

"You are so sentimental; it is why I love you," Shiklah said with a wicked smile. She patted Wade on the shoulder, and looked at Peter. "Tonight I would like you to join us for dinner."

Peter took a moment to remember he was supposed to say something to that, and stammered, "Uh, y-yes. Sure. When?"

"Towards evening," she answered. Then she kissed his cheek again, and said, "I have many tasks to attend to today, and will be quite busy with several meetings. I will see you both tonight, my loves. Until then, please enjoy yourselves."

"I kinda have to go to the lab," Peter said, trying to not sound disappointed.

Shiklah smirked and said, "Take a day off, my dear. Tony will be otherwise occupied."

Peter's brow furrowed. "How do you—"

"Trust me, dear," Shiklah said with a wink. Then she backed out of the room and vanished in a puff of purple.

Peter looked at Wade, then took his phone out of his pocket and sent Tony a text asking if he was needed in the lab.

***

Bucky sat on the edge of the cool examination table with a look of intense concentration on his face as he slowly lifted his mechanical arm. It was not an easy task. The nerves had long since forgotten how to operate an appendage in that location, and he felt like a newborn just figuring out how to wiggle his fingers. Especially since there were sudden jumps that were completely unexpected, as if the nerves had an "Ah-ha!" moment, and he ended up with his arm sticking straight up in the air. The first time it happened, Dr. Foster had to dive out of the way. Now, she stood an arm's length and a few inches away from him, studying his brain waves and nerve impulses on her tablet.

There was some soreness along the line where the arm was anchored, which was to be expected considering they had attached what amounted to a bracket onto his skeleton. Bucky happily blamed his lack of progress on the painkillers that were coursing through his system. He was still a little lethargic, but when he managed to make his index finger move it brought a smile to his face.

Tony had kept an eye on his Dust levels throughout the night. The IDA unit was functioning marvelously, feeding Bucky a steady stream of Dust that kept him a little above the average. It would be a few days before they could tell if his Dust would remain steady, but for now everything looked good.

Steve sat in a chair by the exam table, watching with guarded optimism, though it took every ounce of willpower not to stand up and cheer when Bucky moved his new hand the first time. Now and then he would catch himself smiling like an idiot, and would clear his throat and feel slightly embarrassed.

Bucky noticed this, and the next time he did it, he whispered, "Punk."

"Jerk," Steve responded automatically.

Dr. Foster laughed softly, seeing the way Bucky's pleasure center lit up when Steve responded. She did not comment on that, rather, she said, "I think you are doing well, considering this is the first attempt."

"Do I get a lollypop?" Bucky asked with a smile.

Darcy Lewis came around the table and pulled two suckers out of her pocket and asked, "Green or Red?"

Bucky chuckled and said, "Red."

"Red's always the best flavor," Tony said from the doorway.

"I've always been partial to lemon," Steve said with a smile.

Bucky tapped Steve with the sucker, and Steve chuckled.

"I, uh, I'll come back in a bit to check the mechanical side of things," Tony said as he started to back out.

Dr. Foster turned off the tablet's screen and said, "Actually, I think I am finished with my checkup, so go right ahead." She smiled at Steve and said, "If you could come with me, and I'll give you all the supplies you'll need for cleaning to surgery sites."

Steve nodded and followed her out of the room, leaving Bucky and Tony alone. This led to the two men having a small staring competition. This continued for about a minute until Darcy said, "You two have some seriously intense eye-contact happening. It's like the world is made of testosterone."

Bucky huffed a laugh. Tony exhaled sharply out his nose and walked to the table to sync to the internal sensors. He worked quickly, going over his checklist quickly, planning to be out of the room in short order.

Then Bucky said, "I know about you and Steve."

Darcy skirted around the perimeter of the room and quietly closed the door.

Tony froze. He fish-mouthed a couple times, then stammered, "I, uh, I—well. This is awkward."

"It doesn't have to be," Bucky said calmly. When Tony looked at him with complete confusion, he continued, "Look, I know how much you've done for me. And I know you didn't do it because of me."

Tony couldn't look at Bucky when he said, "I was just a friend. That's," he sighed heavily, "that's all I ever was."

"Oh bullshit," Bucky said with a roll of his eyes. "I swear, both of you are such fucking martyrs, I don't know which one would climb up on the cross first."

Tony was a little taken aback. "You, sir, have a potty mouth."

Bucky gave a half-hearted glare, then shook his head. "What I'm trying to get at is that you and me don't have to be enemies. And there's no reason to be jealous either. I'm not."

"Well I am," Tony said before checking with his brain. He dropped his tablet on the exam table. "I am jealous. I don't know how to not be jealous, but I'm a selfish asshole for feeling this way, because you and him have always been a thing, and—"

"Do you ever shut up?" Bucky asked, cutting him off.

Tony was prepared to snap something back, but the look on Bucky's face made him stop short. He squinted. "You are actually going somewhere with this, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah." Bucky shrugged his flesh shoulder and said, "I don't see any reason why either of us should have to give up anything. Especially knowing how much you two care about each other."

"Sharing. You mean sharing?"

Bucky nodded. "Yeah. In essence."

Tony's brow furrowed. "Is this some kind of trick?"

"No," Bucky answered flatly. "This is me being a realist. Because I know Steve. He'll do that honorable thing that he always does, where he sacrifices his own happiness because of honor or duty or whatever the fuck he calls it. I'm tired of him sacrificing for me." He sighed. "But the fact is, I'm not ready to just say goodbye, either."

Tony was quiet, letting all this information wash over him. He tried a couple times to speak, but he wasn't doing well with forming thoughts. He'd expected this conversation to go in a slightly different direction. Something along the lines of "hands off my man", not a pseudo-custody discussion.

"What about what Steve wants?" Tony said finally. "I'm not going to say yes to a threesome without a confirmation from all parties, no matter how up for it I may be."

Bucky laughed. "Threesome, huh? Who said I want to throw down with you?"

"I'm not good with rejection," Tony said with mock hurt.

"I think you'll survive." Bucky smirked and said, "But I doubt I'd kick you out of bed for eating cookies."

Tony was a little speechless. Everything that he heard about Bucky, Steve never bothered to mention that he was a kinky little shit. "I was convinced that you were, uh, like Steve."

"I thought you were an experimental theologian," Bucky said. "Don't you know opposites attract?"

At that moment, there was a knock on the door and Tony jumped, then tried to look composed as he turned to see Steve coming in with a paper sack full of wound dressings. He gave Tony a funny look, then looked at Bucky.

"You two okay?" he asked.

Bucky nodded, and Tony fidgeted with his tablet a moment before saying, "Uh, yeah. Everything's, uh, good. We were just talking about Ultron. And everything's good, so I'm going to just, you know, go."

Steve put his hand gently on Tony's forearm and said, "I'd like to talk to you later about a couple things."

"Okay," Tony managed to say through a throat that seemed to be closing. He backed towards the door and said, "Yeah, just come by later. A couple hours. The workshop or something. And, yeah. Do that."

Steve cocked his head. "Are you okay?"

"Perfect!" Tony said a little too enthusiastically. "Excellent. I'll see you later."

He turned towards the door but stopped when he heard Bucky say, "Hey, look what I can do!"

Tony turned to see Bucky Barnes holding up his mechanical arm with his middle finger extended. Tony bit his lip, shook his head, and left the room.

Tony didn't realize he was running to his workshop until he got there feeling slightly out of breath. He put a hand over his heart, feeling the steady beat accompanied by the whirr of the implant that kept it beating. He walked inside, the lights and workstation coming to life as he walked by them. He needed to find something to occupy his time to keep from thinking about what Bucky had said, so he grabbed up a discarded exoskeleton hand and started fidgeting with the circuits until he heard Pepper clearing her throat.

"What," Tony said, not looking away from his project.

"There is someone here to see you," Pepper said, and Tony could tell by the exasperation in her voice that she had probably said something to him before that point and he had blocked it out.

Looking up, Tony almost dropped the exo-hand because Shiklah was standing on the opposite side of his workstation. She wore a dark purple dress that went down to her ankles and a tailored black suit-jacket that went to her knees. Her dragon daemon was curled around her shoulders and the four horns on her golden crown gleamed under the shoplights. Her otherworldly black eyes and golden irises met his, and Tony felt a twinge of fear.

"Uh, hi, um, Mrs. Deadpool?" Tony said as he straightened.

Shiklah laughed softly, and said, "Please, just call me Shiklah. I do not follow customary titles. Unless, of course, you wish to address me as Queen."

Tony nodded. "Okay, Shiklah. This is a surprise."

"I intended it to be," she said as she lifted Bug off her shoulder and cradled the dragon in her arms. "I find that people are more honest when they haven't had time to prepare."

"That's my philosophy with my interns," Tony said as Pepper jumped into his arms. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Shiklah smiled. "I'd like to make a proposition."

Tony almost snorted. "This seems to be the day for people to proposition me."

"This is a business proposition," Shiklah said, her tone serious.

Tony's face was schooled into an expression he typically reserved for boardrooms. "Okay. What kind of business are we talking?"

"Technically, it would be a research outpost in southern Patagonia." She pulled out her tablet and with a few swipes, put the images on Tony's workstation. This surprised the inventor, because only he was synced to the table. The images were of a series of buildings, including an observatory that was possibly better than any used by the space program.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Very impressive structures, but I'm not seeing a lot happening here."

"Precisely," she said. "I only have a few, how you call them, 'experimental theologians' working for me. Since you are such a well known figure in the world of science, and this institute produces so many brilliant minds, I hoped that perhaps some of your brilliant minds would be interested in working and studying abroad."

"You want me to be your staffing agent?" Tony said without enthusiasm.

Shiklah perched on the side of the table and said, "Mr. Stark, I know much about you. When I learned that Wade was here, I investigated you thoroughly. And I discovered much about you. Not only you as a person, but you as a public figure who has frequently had trouble with the Magisterium. Frequently forced to terminate certain aspects of your work, yes?"

"Understatement," Tony said.

"As you know, the political climate in High Brazil and Patagonia is quite different," Shiklah said. "Due to some very well placed investments, we are completely independent of the Magisterium. Their influence does not exist. We are free in a way that no other place in the world can claim."

Tony nodded, and said, "High Brazil is also considered a rogue government. And last I checked, the prime minister is not named Shiklah."

"I don't need to be elected," Shiklah said with a smirk that revealed one of her sharply pointed canines. "As you know, money often has more influence than politics. And I have a lot of influence."

"You know, I like you." He scratched the scruff on his face and said, "I really wasn't prepared at all for an offer like this, but I am happy that you presented it. There are some of my resident researchers who would probably leap at the opportunity to take their studies somewhere a little less, uh, restrictive." He laughed and added, "Not to mention that studying in the South is kind of impossible. You're practically handing me a dream here."

"Indeed, I am." She nodded and said, "You do not need to say yes right now. The offer will remain."

"How long will you be here?" Tony asked after a moment of thought.

"We will leave tomorrow morning," she answered.

Tony nodded. "Okay. I'll have an answer by the end of the day."

Shiklah stood straight and held out her hand and said, "I hope to that we will be doing much business together in the future."

Tony shook her hand and said, "I'm sure we will."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark." Shiklah again draped Bug across her shoulders and said, "Now I must speak with your head of security."

Tony raised his hand to stop her from leaving, and asked, "Seriously, how do you know Natasha? Curiosity is kind of killing me."

Shiklah gave a throaty laugh, and said, "If Natasha wished you to know, you would know."

Tony frowned then smirked and pulled his phone from his pocket. There was a text from Peter asking if he was needed, and Tony gave a quick, No. Be lazy. I demand it. Then he scrolled through his contacts to find Janet Van Dyne's number and pressed dial.

***

Peter and Wade attended to business. They walked the grounds removing Wade's warding. Wade was undoubtedly a shaman, even if that was not the label he chose. The way he spoke his invocations and incantations was with a practiced finesse that could only come from years working in the craft. Wade always gave pretty vague answers about where he learned his magic, so Peter didn't ask. He figured someday Wade would tell him. Maybe.

Breaking the runes may have taken longer than necessary because of unplanned makeouts by the river, a grove of trees, and a near-handjob that was interrupted by Jimmy the gardener who looked like he was tired of everyone's shit. However, when he and Wade started talking, Jimmy (or Logan) lightened up a little bit,

It didn't really surprise Peter at all that Jimmy/Logan was once a mercenary. He was somewhat surprised to realize that the groundskeeper was a mutant, but Peter promised he would keep that to himself especially when he saw the claws come out of the gardener's hands.

After their talk, Wade and Peter walked to the aerodock to check in with Evan, only to find the young mutant sitting at a table with Amjad, Baqir, and Quentin Quire. Qure still wore the wrist cuffs etched with binding spells that kept his powers in check. They were going over the different ethnic groups that called the southern continent home. Evan wanted to learn everything about where they were going, and Quire seemed to be happy to learn alongside him.

Back in the Institute, Peter and Wade picked up lunch in the cafeteria and went up to their floor to eat on the balcony. It was a nice day, blue sky with a gentle breeze. Perfect for a sort of picnic. They ate. They laughed. They kissed. They exited the balcony for somewhere more private.

Dinner with Wade and his wives was surprisingly comfortable. Every preconceived notion that Peter had about their relationship was shattered completely by their candor and kindness. Carmelita was Peter's favorite. She was sweet and playful, and her daemon Arkaitz got along well with Gwen and Bob. Bug was a little more standoffish, but he was also very gentle when handling Gwen. Really, Gwen seemed to be in heaven.

As the evening went from eating to drinking wine, Peter realized that he was very relaxed in this situation. He started out a little rigid, but after a while he was relaxed against Wade's side with Carmelita's legs across his and Wade's knees as she lay against Shiklah.

Peter was so relaxed he decided to be bold and ask a question. It was something that had been on his mind since Shiklah showed up in her underwear at his door. He put aside his wine glass and asked, "How do you feed on sex energy?"

Shiklah took a sip of wine. "It is not something that has been adequately explained in laboratory terms, but it is something that I can demonstrate."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Demonstrate."

She nodded and stood, moving to sit between Carmelita and Peter. She reached across Peter's lap and linked her hand with Wade's and said, "My dear, both of you are filled with energy right now, practically screaming for me to devour it. To my eyes, you are both glowing."

"Glowing," Peter said. He looked down, thinking for a moment before saying, "Would you be opposed to me taking a Dust reading while you feed?"

"Ever the scientist," she said with a wink. She looked at Wade then to Carmelita, and said, "I think we would all be comfortable with such an experiment."

Peter quickly retrieved his equipment from across the hall, and set everything up while Wade refilled everyone's glasses. As per Shiklah's instructions, Peter aimed the Dust camera and the visible light camera at the very large bed. The fact that they would be doing this sex-energy feeding on a bed was a little frightening, but it didn't stop Peter from wanting to do it. In fact, it was the same kind of fear he felt the first time he had sex. It wasn't really fear so much as nerves and a sense of doing something that was somewhat taboo.

By the time Peter was done making adjustments, Shiklah was seated on her knees at the center of the bed with Wade lounging against the headboard on one side and Carmelita on the other. Peter cleared his throat as he opened the shutter and started recording.

"What do I need to do?" Peter asked as he approached the bed.

"Take off your shoes and shirt," Shiklah said.

Peter's face heated up, but he didn't hesitate to follow her instructions. Once shirtless he sat a little stiffly on the edge of the bed near Wade's legs. Wade sat up and kissed Peter's shoulder and softly asked, "Is this alright?"

Peter nodded and at Wade's urging moved further onto the bed. Then Shiklah said, "The energy must be brought to the surface."

"H-how do I do that?" Peter asked.

"Kiss me," Wade answered.

Though at first Peter was a little hesitant having an audience, the moment his lips met Wade's, he no longer cared. When he opened his eyes, he could see that Shiklah and Carmelita were doing the same, and that sent a surge through him.

The next surge came when Shiklah came over to them and touched Wade's shoulder. Wade turned his head and met Shiklah's lips. A feeling of warmth mixed with a touch of jealousy and excitement washed through Peter seeing the two of them kiss so passionately. But that was also when Peter noticed the light surrounding Wade, a subtle purple glow.

Shiklah turned to Peter and said, "May I kiss you?"

"Yes," Peter barely managed to whisper. The way she kissed him was soft, just a light touch of her cool lips to his. That was when Peter felt the edges of the world start to blur out. This blur only amplified with Wade's mouth on his shoulder, then neck, and finally again against Peter's lips. The three of them took turns kissing each other as the world became harder to see. Yet, even when Peter's eyes were closed, he could see the glimmering shape of Shiklah. And not just the woman on the bed, but the form of a massive creature with horns and many eyes.

Logically, Peter knew that he should be terrified of this vision. Instead, he was calmed by it as he sank deeper into the ecstasy. His pulse quickened, and he shivered at every touch, feeling as if his entire life force came from where he touched his lover and the gleaming creature in the dark.

Then the haze started to dissipate and though Peter was still incredibly aroused, he knew that something had happened. Then he remembered what they were doing, and he slumped against Wade with a breathy, "Whoa."

Shiklah lay back against the pillows, her black and gold eyes glazed with pleasure as she breathed deep, revelling in her feast. The air was still tinted purple, but Peter couldn't tell if it was real or just something happening in his head. Either way, he felt incredible. Peter thought that he would feel drained, but instead he felt satiated. So relaxed he didn't want to move from his spot cradled in Wade's warm embrace. He wanted to fall asleep and soak in the warmth that went all the way to his bones.

"That was," Peter said, trailing off with eyes staring dazedly up at Wade who looked just as satisfied as Peter felt. "That was intense."

Shiklah patted his knee and said, "I must agree. You are quite delicious together." Then she gave another pat, and said, "Now go. Enjoy your privacy so that we may enjoy ours."

***

The following morning, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were standing at the aerodock with a somewhat sluggish Bucky Barnes between them. Though he was still in a bit of pain, Bucky insisted that he join them to say goodbye. Thor and Loki were there, Loki in her human form since there was no point in the disguise anymore. Shiklah and Loki talked about their particular schools of magic while Carmelita made plans for Natasha to visit.

Wade and Peter were the last to arrive. They had a plan in place for December. Though it was still a half a year away, they planned to stay in contact. Wade gave Peter an untraceable cell, pre-programmed with his and his wives' numbers.

"You need anything, and I mean anything, call me," Wade said. He kissed Peter and said, "And even if you don't need anything, call me."

"I will," Peter promised.

They didn't say, I'll miss you. It went without saying. And Peter didn't trust himself to not tear up if he were to utter such sentiments. Wade was never good at expressing those emotions. He was even worse at goodbyes. So he didn't say it. He didn't say much.

Evan was smiling as he said his goodbyes to everyone, and he made sure to hug Jessica Drew a couple times. Celestia had assumed her rabbit form, and was nuzzling all of her daemon friends. It was a much different feeling than when they arrived. Evan was terrified and traumatized. But now he felt like he was going to be okay. Or at least some semblance of okay, and that was good enough.

Peter handed Evan a satchel of books, and said, "Keep studying the alethiometer. You're a natural."

Evan looked in the bag and saw the book on alethiometry, and said, "Thanks, Peter. You're going to come visit, right?"

Peter nodded. "It might be a few months, but I'll be there."

Tony made sure to shake Wade's hand, and the billionaire said, "You're not as crazy as I thought you were."

Wade laughed. "I guess you're not as big of a tool as the press would have the world believe."

"You're still an asshole," Tony said, laughing.

"Likewise." Wade turned to Steve and said, "Always a pleasure, Cap."

"I'll never forget what you did for Bucky," he said as they shook hands. "I'm glad to get to know you."

"You're gonna make me blush," Wade said with a smirk, though deep down he was cheering.

When he turned to Bucky, Bucky said, "I still owe you that beer."

"I'm gonna collect, motherfucker," Wade said. He went to shake Bucky's hand, but found himself being hugged instead. He said, "You're welcome, dude."

Bucky was a little teary eyed as he straightened and nodded.

Natasha and Wade exchanged a look, both of them getting the same smirk before bumping fists, then the witch mounted her cloud willow and flew into the sky. Shiklah, Carmelita, and Evan boarded the jet, and Wade started on his way to join them.

Despite the audience, and despite the many goodbye kisses they exchanged, Wade kissed Peter one last time. It was soft and tender, and when their lips parted they gave a nod to each other, an unspoken goodbye and promise to see each other again. As Wade walked away with Bob sitting on his shoulder, Peter held Gwen in his hands and focused really hard on not letting the stinging in his eyes turn into anything else.

Wade only made it a few steps before Bob flew back to Peter, landing at his feet where Gwen jumped down to him. The two daemons touched foreheads, and Peter and Wade both smiled at their affections.

Then a very soft voice, a voice that did not belong to Gwen, whispered, "Goodbye."

Wade's eyes were suddenly watery, and when Bob flew back to him, he held the daemon against his chest. He gave a final wave, and walked to the jet. Peter didn't move from his spot until they were in the air and the jet had disappeared into the horizon.

Chapter Text

Peter stayed at the aerodock for almost an hour after they left, after everyone had returned to the Institute. He sat on a bench, no talking. Not crying. Just feeling empty, holding the phone that Wade gave him. He almost called so many times he lost count, but he couldn't. It didn't feel right to call when he was only gone for a few minutes. It felt like an eternity.

"It's the Dust," Peter reminded himself for the thousandth time. He didn't realize how much of an addiction to the Dust he had developed. Now, the Dust (and Wade) was gone. He reminded himself, "It's just withdrawals."

"I love him," Gwen said softly. Again, she'd said it a thousand times, probably. She sniffled and snuggled herself down into Peter's hands. Peter felt like his heart was breaking, but he wasn't going to say it out loud. He couldn't. He was still trying to convince himself that it was just an addiction, and nothing more emotional than that.

Except he knew the truth.

Peter eventually went back to his room and started to tidy up, but got sidetracked by the fact that the second pillow in the bed smelled like Wade and he had the thought that he would never wash that pillow. Then he sat on the edge of the bed hugging said pillow as the tears flowed. Peter Parker had never cried over a relationship in his life, and he was sobbing silently over a mercenary that he knew was going to leave. He knew it, and still he let his heart get involved.

He tried to tell himself he was being irrational. He tried to convince himself that crying wasn't the answer. It didn't work.

The sudden vibration of his cell phone gave Peter a jolt. He pulled it from his pocket and dashed the moisture from his face and cleared his throat before answering with false joy, "Hey, Tony."

"Wow. You sound like shit," Tony answered.

Peter cleared his throat and said, "Just have a headache. What can I do for you?"

"You can come down to my office." Rather than waiting for a response, Tony hung up.

Peter groaned and flopped onto his back on the bed staring up at the ceiling and trying his best to get into the right frame of mind to talk to his boss. Gwen walked up and sat on his chest, her dark ears drooping back and eyes still big and liquid. Peter cradled her in his palms and sat up, pressing her against his neck.

After a few deep breaths, Peter walked into the bathroom to wash his face and try to make his unruly hair a little less unruly in the hopes of not looking like a trainwreck. Rather than tucking Gwen in his pocket, he kept her cradled in his hands and he walked to Tony's office.

Unlike Tony's workshop, his office was quite immaculate. Everything was antique and polished. Pepper told Gwen that it was in the same exact arrangement as when it was Howard Stark's office. The desk sat between two large floor to ceiling windows with ancient looking plants growing in front of them. The desk itself was made of teak, and showed its age by the dark patina that had gathered in the lines of the wood. The walls were covered in paintings of all the Starks, going back to before they landed on this continent. Be it spite or motivation (or a sick desire to punish himself), Tony kept Howard's painting directly behind him on the wall between the windows.

In the time that Peter had been at the Institute, he had only entered Tony's office once before and that was the day of his arrival. No matter how well he knew the billionaire now, it was still intimidating to be called into the office. Peter knocked on the door, feeling his palms start sweating.

"Don't be shy," Tony said. He was sitting at the desk with his feet propped up on the corner, lounging back in his chair like he was on vacation. Peter relaxed a little and walked to the desk. Tony frowned at him, looking over his sunglasses. "You're not in the principal's office, Parker. Have a seat."

"What's this about?" Peter asked as he sat, still feeling rigid.

Tony sat up, putting his feet on the floor as he slid a folder across the desk to Peter. "This is about an opportunity to study Dust like no one has ever studied Dust."

"How do you mean?" Peter asked as he opened the folder.

"Just read," Tony said.

Peter read through the cover sheet. Just that little bit of information was enough to make Peter feel a little light headed. He looked at Tony. "Studying the South Pole? Seriously?"

"Absolutely," he said. "Janet van Dyne is the project head. She's going to coordinate all the experiments, and she wants you to be her second in command."

Peter's eyes went a little wide as his imposter's syndrome kicked in. "Why me?"

"You have two patents pending on Dust-capture apparatuses, and you are the co-creator of the world's first artificial daemon. Who better?" Tony said flatly. Then he smirked. "You know, other than me."

Peter still felt a little light headed. He flipped through the folder and noticed a company name on one of the sheets. "What's Allāt Holdings?"

Tony gave an amused smile. "That's who's funding the research and owns the facilities."

"This isn't your thing?" Peter asked.

Tony cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the corner of the desk. "It is and it isn't. The things that you and Janet will be studying are projects that are very much in my realm of interest, but I can't have my name attached to this."

Peter felt a little surge of annoyance. "Is this dangerous?"

"You'll have security," Tony answered.

"I meant the Magisterium," Peter said sternly. "There's been a travel ban to High Brazil and Patagonia since I was a kid. It stands to reason that this could be dangerous, and I personally don't want to end up in Bolvangar."

"Right now, I have my legal department working through the permits," Tony said.

Part of Peter's mind was thinking about Wade, and the fact that they would again be on the same continent. Sure, a few hundred miles apart, but still. Closer. That was the lure, but it wasn't enough to allay the uneasy feeling. He asked, "Can I have some time to think this over?"

"I need an answer by Monday," Tony said. "You are brilliant, and you're the first choice, but Janet has already submitted five others for the team."

"Who else is on the list?" Peter asked.

"Can't tell you that," Tony said with a smirk. Then he put his feet back on the floor and said, "Now you need to get out of my office and go pack or something."

Peter stood. "I said I'll think about it."

Tony's brows went up. "Oh, that's right. You probably don't know because you were out in the aerodock sulking. I'm closing the Institute for a few weeks. Maybe a month. Just trying to get ahead of the hearings."

"Hearings?" Peter almost shouted. "What hearings?"

"Calm down," Tony said with a lazy wave of his hand. "These happen from time to time. I'm just getting prepared. But yeah, get your shit together and go somewhere. I've already sent out hardship funds for everyone to get by on until we reopen."

"But what about Bucky?" Peter asked.

Tony smirked. "Bucky and Steve, along with Nurse Carter, will be taking a summer trip to my place on the coast in Hispania Nova. I'll keep monitoring him; don't worry. Now, move. Go. Pack."

A few minutes later, back in his room, Peter had piled most of his clothes into his oversize duffle bag. Gwen was sitting on her pillow watching him and not saying much. It always made Peter sad when Gwen didn't talk, because he knew she was hurting. Which meant that he was hurting, but it was easier to put the pain onto his daemon and not own it himself. He had to wonder what it would be like to never have her speak to him at all, how lonely that would be.

Next thing he knew, he was standing in what was Wade's room. It was completely devoid of anything that was the merc's. Clean and spotless, though Peter was certain the cleaners had not been there. The big bed had been removed, replaced by the normal twin that was in all the rooms. The bed was made, the windows clean and curtains artfully drawn. Like he'd never been there at all…

"Hey, loveboy."

Peter jumped at Natasha's voice, and spun around to see the witch standing in the doorway. His heart was pounding, and he let out a shaky breath. "You scared the shit out of me, Natasha."

Natasha's eyebrow quirked and she flipped her hair off her shoulder just before Clint landed there. She said, "I think we're all going to miss him a little bit."

"How do you know him?" Peter asked, feeling brave.

"It's a long story," Natasha said with a smirk. And Peter thought that would be the end of it, but then Natasha stroked her finger down Clint's chest and said, "I bet you didn't know I used to work for the Magisterium."

Peter shook his head.

"I worked for them for years, under the old regime," she said. "My original clan was destroyed by wars in Muscovy." She shrugged. "I was alone, and they paid well. I did a lot of stuff for them that I'm not particularly proud of. Then Lensherr took over, and he didn't want witches in his ranks. Instead of giving us a pink slip, he sent his new Brotherhood after us."

A chill swept down Peter's spine. "You mean they sent Wade."

Natasha nodded. "I was hiding out in Budapest, thought I was keeping myself off the radar. Turns out it's kinda hard to hide from telepaths, even when you're good with magic. One night I woke up to a shadow sitting in the chair beside my bed. I could see the moon reflecting off his blade, and I knew. I'd heard of Deadpool by then. Knew what he was capable of."

"You fought him off?" Peter asked.

"No, I didn't. I didn't have to." Natasha laughed, a hollow sound. "He tapped the blade against the metal frame of the bed and said, 'It's your lucky night. Any other time, you'd be waking up in Hell, but I guess I'm having a crisis of conscience.'" She looked at Peter. "He let me live when he could have killed me. Some would argue that he should have."

Peter wanted to argue the point, but Natasha genuinely scared him. He asked, "What happened after that?"

"We left Budapest. Or, I left Budapest." Natasha frowned and crossed her arms. "His handlers caught up to us. Rather than let me be captured and probably killed, he lured them off. Pretty sure he killed a couple of them before they took him back to The World."

Peter held Gwen against his chest. "How long ago was that?"

"Almost 20 years ago? I think," Natasha said. "He was a lot different back then. Always talking to himself. Really confused at times. We probably would have made a clean getaway if not for all his issues. He kept trying to tell me we were living in a book, and he was trying to change the pages." Natasha frowned. "I think it's just how he coped with what they did to him."

Peter was quiet for a moment. He didn't know what to say. After the silence stretched a little, he asked, "How do you know Shiklah and Carm?"

"That is a lot longer story," Natasha said with a coy smile. This time, Peter was certain she wasn't going to elaborate, and that was fine. She straightened from her spot against the doorframe and reached into her black cloak and retrieved a composition book. "I found this in Evan's room. I think you should be the one to get it back to him."

Peter accepted the book and was about to thank her, but when he looked up, Natasha was gone.

It took Peter another hour to get all of his belongings packed, and a half hour after that to get them packed into his little economy car. He had accumulated a lot of stuff being at the Institute for the last nine months or so, mostly clothes and books. But the only thing that he kept up front with him was his two cell phones and the spider web coffee mug. He didn't bother with goodbyes. Most everyone would be back when the Institute re-opened, and if they weren't, he had most of their numbers.

The drive to New Amsterdam City was a long one, but Peter welcomed the scenery change. Even if Tony hadn't basically kicked him out of the Institute, Peter would probably have ended up going home if only to see other faces and maybe not have to think so much about Wade. Still, the merc crept into his mind constantly. He couldn't stop thinking about the story that Natasha told him. Couldn't stop replaying every moment from the first time they shook hands at the aerodock to the last kiss that morning. It felt like a lifetime, yet also like a millisecond.

It was a little after 6 in the evening when Peter pulled into Aunt May's drive. He meant to call ahead a dozen times, but kept getting lost in his thoughts and didn't call. There were no lights on, but it was still bright outside despite the clouds in the sky.

Peter got out of the car and put Gwen in his pocket. She had perked up a little upon reaching the city and was currently bouncing with excitement as they approached the door. It was sweltering outside, too. Summer in New Amsterdam is no joke. Peter's shirt was soaked with sweat by the time he rang the doorbell.

Aunt May peeked out the curtain and threw open the door and crushed him in a hug before Peter even had a chance to say, hello. Bayanai, her squirrel daemon, was doing a little dance with Gwen and the two chattering just as fast as their humans as the four made their way into the kitchen. Peter was just in time for supper, and before long they were eating and Peter was feeling a little better about life because some things were constant.

May told him about how things were going at the Central Clinic, where people who were recently oblated went for counseling and other services. Their funding was cut almost every quarter. Currently, May was down to being a volunteer and baking pies to help pay to keep the lights on at the center, and keeping the lights on at home with the little bit of money from his late uncle's pension and what May made working a few nights a week at the hospital. Peter tried to help out, but his offers were met with almost hostility. May was independent, and would give someone the shirt off her back if they needed it. But when it came to accepting help, it was probably easier to get water to freeze on the sun.

While they washed dishes, Peter told May about recent breakthroughs at the Institute. He focused on things like the artificial daemon and advanced robotics. He sidestepped into the offer to work in Patagonia studying Dust with Janet van Dyne, which May was very much on board with. All the time he talked, Peter carefully edited out any romantic entanglements. Or at least, he was sure he was editing everything right.

"So what's his name?" May asked as she dried a glass.

Peter froze with his hands in the soapy water. "Whose name?"

"The guy who has you mopey," May said like the clairvoyant she is. Peter could never keep anything from her, and often wondered what it was that always gave himself away. "You have this sad puppy look every time you think I'm not looking."

"And you automatically think it's some guy?" Peter said, trying to sound indignant.

"His name's Wade," Gwen said like the little traitor she is.

May raised an eyebrow. "I haven't heard that name before."

Peter's cheeks felt warm. "It was kind of a complicated thing; I didn't want to talk about it until I knew what was really happening between us."

"And it didn't work out?" May said sympathetically.

Peter resumed washing. "No. I mean, yeah. It did. Mostly. It's just—he had to leave, and he's not coming back." He was quiet a moment, scrubbing the skillet a little more than needed. "We want to see each other again."

"How far away is he?" May asked.

"High Brazil," Peter said on a sigh.

May smiled. "Well at least he lives somewhere worth visiting."

Peter laughed. "He said I should bring you with me."

"Oh, you better," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "It will work out, Peter. If you want it to, it will." She put the skillet away and said, "Now, as happy as I am that you are home, I need to go to bed. And if you feel the need to give your poor old Aunt a ride to work, you might want to get some sleep too."

Peter hugged her and said, "I can probably manage that."

They said goodnight. Aunt May went upstairs and Peter went out to the car to grab his bags and shuttle them to his old room. He took a shower and changed into his pajamas, then flipped through the channels on the downstairs TV for a few minutes before he was again staring at the contacts list, his thumb hovering over Wade's number.

Gwen sat on Peter's shoulder, and after a few more moment's hesitation, Peter dialed the number.

When the plane touched down in Rio, it was already dark and the temperature had fallen to the low sixties. The change was a surprise to Evan, who was used to summer in New York and Kansas, but unprepared for winter in July. The clouded sky above was painted by the city lights in hues of orange and blue, and a chill wind was blowing that made Evan shiver.

Wade threw a jacket around his shoulders and said, "Not the sunny paradise everyone expects, huh?"

"It's cold," Evan said as he put his arms through the sleeves and zipped Celestia inside. "I didn't know it would be cold."

Wade chuckled. "Don't worry; this is as cold as it gets. Here."

Evan's brow scrunched seeing stick of cinnamon gum being pointed at his face. He took it, and asked, "Why?"

"Because," Wade answered. "Chew it, young grasshopper."

There were two limousines waiting for them on the tarmac. As soon as they were out of the plane, the doors opened and a little girl with golden brown hair wearing a puffy blue coat and a long purple and black dress rushed towards them with a tiny hummingbird daemon buzzing along at her shoulder.

She shrieked, "Daddy!"

And Wade rushed to her, scooping her up and doing a little spin. She clung to him, squeezing his neck so tight a lesser man would have probably died from the pressure. She attached herself to his side, and Evan couldn't remember seeing Wade look so happy. The entire flight to Rio, he had been mostly silent. Sullen, and Evan knew it was because of leaving Peter. But now, he was bright as the sun.

"You didn't miss me, did ya?" Wade said as he smoothed her wild, curly hair away from her face.

She punched his shoulder and Wade let out an exaggerated yelp as she said, "Of course I did."

He kissed her cheek and said, "I love you, baby girl."

"I love you too, daddy," she said with a gleaming smile.

"I have someone you need to meet," Wade said as he walked back to where Evan was standing, looking a little dumbfounded. He smiled at the girl on his hip and said, "Ellie, this is Evan Sabahnur. He's going to be staying with us now."

She beamed a smile at him and said, "Hi!"

"Hi," Evan said awkwardly. He lifted his daemon out of his coat and said, "This is Celestia."

"That's Venceslás," Ellie said as the daemon buzzed down to poke Celestia in the forehead. "I call him Ven."

Soon they were all loaded up in the limos, and Evan was slightly amazed by the large cars. But then again, everything about Rio seemed massive. Even their statues. The giant Christ the Redeemer could be seen as they drove through the city. It had been a while since Evan saw any type of religious iconography.

Wade leaned over Evan's shoulder and said, "Pretty damn big, aint it."

"I thought the Magisterium wasn't here though?" Evan said.

"There's a difference between the Magisterium and the Church," Wade said. He slouched back as Ellie climbed in his lap. "There's a lot of very religious people here, but they follow the old school religion. Not the institutionalized crap that the Magisterium forces down everyone's throat. It's not religion at the point of a gun. It's actual faith."

Evan nodded. "You mean they don't use it to hurt people."

Wade smirked. "Exactly."

"I like the statue then," Evan said.

Their destination was system of caves outside the city. With all the rain of late, the caves were heard long before they were seen as they walked the stone path from the parking area. As they approached, Evan's heart started to race. His mind went back to that night, to squeezing through the cave in the dark to find where he had stashed the alethiometer with his home burning in the distance.

He could almost see that hazy shape and hear the voice that told him to leave the cave. That voice that he could feel that led him out of safety and into the hands of Victor Creed. Evan's throat closed, feeling the heavy boot on his chest after the powerful slam into the rocks. Then another voice was telling him to let go.

"Come back, kid. Come on. I know you can hear me," Wade said, and Evan realized that the merc was on his knees. Then Evan realized he was on his knees. He didn't remember falling down. All he could remember was the cave.

Evan put a dirty hand over his face, and said, "I'm sorry. I don't…"

"No apologies," Wade said gently as he handed Evan a another stick of cinnamon gum. "Chew that and tell me five things you can see."

Evan's heart was pounding and his head felt hazy. "I don't underst—"

"Humor me," Wade said. "Five things."

"I see blue lights along the path," Evan started. "I see you. I see Amjad and Quentin. I see trees."

"Four things you can hear," Wade said.

Evan closed his eyes and said, "I can hear some kind of bird, the wind, footsteps up ahead, my own heartbeat."

"Three things you can touch," Wade said.

"Celestia," Evan said as he stroked the top of the daemon's back. "The ground and your jacket sleeve."

"Two things you can smell," Wade said.

"The cave and your cologne," Evan answered, his voice sounding a little less shaky.

Wade nodded, and said, "One thing you can taste."

Evan gave a fragile smile. "Cinnamon gum."

"Where are we right now?" Wade asked.

"Rio de Janerio, in High Brazil," Evan answered. He took a long deep breath and slowly let it out before adding, "We're walking to Cave of Clan Allat."

Wade stood up, bringing Evan with him to his feet. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Evan answered. His body gave an involuntary shake, but he straightened and said, "Was that some kind of magic?"

"No," Wade said. "It's just a trick I learned. Helps with anxiety."

Evan took a couple more deep breaths, then fell into step beside Wade and they continued down the path.

Once they entered the cave, Evan realized just how different it was from any cave he had ever entered. Mainly, this cave had been carved over the centuries into a complete city under the earth. Some of the antechambers still retained a natural state, but in most cases the limestone had been shaped into roads, homes, sidewalks, and pathways. It was an entire metropolis, complete with small shops and markets.

Most intriguing was the people. Not only were there many of the shedim like Shiklah and the Gray Warriors, but other creatures that Evan had only seen in story books. There were Lupine creatures with their entire bodies covered in hair and eyes shining in the dim light of their homes. There were large ogres that towered 10 feet tall, with green skin and protruding teeth. There were creatures with wings and leathery skin, some with feathers and scales. Reptilians and strange combinations of humanoid and animals.

All of them, no matter their appearance, stopped to give a bow to their queen as Shiklah passed through the throng of people. A few stopped Wade to shake his hand and welcome him back home. Some wanted to meet Evan. There were so many people and beings, well over a thousand, and they all seemed to know each other.

As they entered the central citadel, the palace that Shiklah called home, Evan looked at Wade and said, "I never knew that there was a place like this."

"I told ya," Wade said with a smirk. "You're not gonna stick out in this crowd."

The rest of the evening was spent introducing Evan to the family he would be living with from now on. Evan really liked Blind Alfreida, whom Wade introduced as his sort of maternal figure, though the two were not related. She was crass and sassy, but there was a kind of weird affection that she had for people. Her daemon, a graying weasel named Jacques, was also blind and just as mouthy.

Then there was Senora Camacho, and Evan wasn't quite sure what to make of her. The elderly witch wore a scowl on her face and a crown of autumn leaves in her gray hair. She leaned heavily on her cloud willow branch, and upon seeing Wade, frowned and said in a voice that dripped disdain, "Eres tan feo que hiciste llorar a una cebolla."

Wade looked at her and replied, "Por qué no estás muerta?"

"Prefiero estar muerta que hay que mirar a la cara fea," she replied bitterly.

"Basta, mamá. Estás siendo odiosa," Carmelita said as she put her arm around her mother. She looked at Evan and said, "If I don't stop it now, they will keep going until there is bloodshed."

Evan laughed and said, "Is this your mom?"

"Señora Camacho," the elder said. "High Queen of the Aquelarre del Altiplano." Then she frowned and said, 'Or at least I was until my daughter married a shedim abomination and this puto feo."

"Mamá!" Carmelita warned.

Señora Camacho frowned and said, "Fine, fine. Come here and hug me, scarface."

Evan expected the old woman to try to stab Wade, but she actually seemed to like him with the warmth that she hugged the merc. Wade stepped back as Shiklah approached, and the queen kissed both of her wrinkled cheeks. Though Evan was certain that the elder liked Wade despite the insults, he was certain that she hated Shiklah for real.

There were several others, like Michael the Shaman and Emily Preston the cyborg, both of whom seemed to be Wade's best buds. Preston was Evan's favorite. She had a big voice and an infectious smile. She used to work for the Magisterium, but lost her position when the new regime took over. Now she was one of the teachers for the children of the underground city, and Evan was already looking forward to being in her classes.

The sleeping accommodations in the Citadel were far more communal than Evan was used to. The Gray Warriors lived in barracks, unless they had a family. In that case they lived out in the city and reported for duty when needed. The witches lived in their own section, too, in a series of chambers meant for sleeping, eating, and work. Shiklah, Carmelita, and Wade had their own section of the fortress where they lived with their daughter and Señora Camacho.

"You are family now," Shiklah said to Evan after explaining these things. "You will live with us until you wish otherwise."

Evan was fine with that. He was given a room on one side of Ellie's. Unlike at the Institute, it was much more like a regular bedroom, with the obvious exception that the furniture was carved from stone. The mattress was made of feathers and the sheets and blankets were soft and warm. Everything felt homey, like people actually lived there. In the family room there were toys on the floor and books on the counters. Some of Wade's weapons were displayed on the wall. There were family pictures on the beach and in the forest camping.

For the first time, Evan was seeing a side of Wade that he only caught glimpses of before. He wasn't just Deadpool the mercenary and bodyguard. He was Wade Wilson, the familyman. Evan had a million questions, but by the time he had finished unpacking his clothes and books and ate supper with the family, he was exhausted.

Wade still had Ellie on his left hip when he stopped by Evan's door. Evan was just crawling under the covers, and Wade said, "If you need anything, I'm two doors down."

"I think I'll manage," Evan said. He smiled and lay back against the pillow. "Goodnight, Wade. And thanks."

Wade smirked. "No thanks needed, kid. Goodnight."

A few seconds later, Evan was fast asleep.

Wade carried Ellie to her bed, laying her down gently, trying not to wake her and failing miserably because her golden eyes were open when he pulled the blanket up to her chin. He brushed a curly lock from her forehead as Bob placed Ven in his little nest.

"Are you going to leave again?" Ellie asked.

Something inside felt like it was being smashed. Wade wanted to tell her no, that he would never leave her again because he couldn't stand to see the sadness in her eyes. But he also couldn't lie to her, and that made him feel even worse. He sighed heavily, and said, "I wish I could say I won't, but I can't promise that. But, I can promise that I'm going to be here as much as possible."

"I missed you a whole lot," she said softly. "Mommy said you were working. Where were you?"

"You know Evan?" Wade said. Ellie nodded. "Well, there were a lot of bad people trying to hurt him, and I needed to protect him. Now, I'm protecting him here."

"Shiklah says your heart is too big," Ellie said. "What does that mean?"

Wade laughed softly. "It means I sometimes care too much and probably make bad decisions because of it."

Ellie's face scrunched. "But why is that bad?"

"Because it takes me away from you," Wade said.

She smiled and said, "But if you're helping people, doesn't that mean you're a hero?"

He sighed and said, "I don't think it works that way, baby girl."

"You're my hero," she said with all the honesty that only a fearless child could muster. "I love you, daddy."

Wade couldn't remember ever having allergies in the caves, but his eyes were watering as he said, "I love you too."

Ellie wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. Then she looked at him and asked, "Will you read to me?"

"Pick out a book," Wade answered.

Wade read a book, then another. And by the time the runaway bunny made it home, Ellie was sleeping peacefully. Wade switched off the light, but didn't immediately leave. He sat in the dark, listening to the soft sound of his daughter's breath, and wished that he could someday be the man his daughter thought he was.

He might have sat there all night if not for the sudden vibration against his thigh. Quietly he left the room and pulled his cellphone from his pocket, involuntarily smiling seeing Peter's name on the screen. He hit the "accept" icon, but didn't say anything until he was in an outer hall where he was sure no one could hear him.

"Hey," he said softly.

"For a second I didn't think you were there," Peter's laughter filled voice said.

Wade smiled. "Yeah, I was putting my daughter to bed."

Peter started pacing as he talked. "I bet she was really happy to see you."

"Yeah, she clung to me like velcro," Wade said as he sat down against the wall. "I forget how much I like home."

"I know what you mean," Peter said. "I'm actually at my Aunt's house right now. Drove to New Amsterdam for the weekend."

Wade couldn't stop smiling. "Is she with you right now?"

"No," Peter chuckled. "She's upstairs sleeping."

"Dammit. I was gonna have some fun."

Wade could almost hear the eyeroll. "You are not playing mind games with my Aunt, Wade."

"Oh, come on. She sounds like a hoot." Wade fidgeted with a hole in his jeans, and said softly, "Is it bad that I already miss you?"

"Only if it's bad that I already miss you," Peter answered, sounding almost relieved.

Bob pecked Wade's hand, and Wade said, "Tell Gwen that Bob says hi."

"Gwen's bouncing," Peter said, and Wade relayed the message. Bob seemed satisfied with that. Peter asked, "Has he said anything else?"

"Not yet," Wade said as he petted the feather's on Bob's head flat. "Just hearing him, though." Wade could feel his throat tightening as he said, "Thank you for that."

"I didn't—"

"You did," Wade said. He could hear Peter yawning on the other end of the line. He said, "Why don't you get some sleep, Spidey."

Peter was petulant. "I don't wanna."

Wade chuckled. "Do you want me to read you a story?"

"You're an ass."

"Now you've gone and hurt my feelings."

Peter laughed, and said, "Fine. Read me a story."

"There once was a dead sexy mercenary," Wade started.

"Is this a dirty story?" Peter interrupted.

Wade answered, "Only if you want it to be."

As tempting as it sounded, Peter said, "Probably not a good idea."

"Best to not have to explain random boners to old ladies," Wade said. They both laughed. He said, "Sleep well, Peter."

"Goodnight, Wade."

Wade waited, expecting the line to go dead. But it didn't. He could still hear Peter breathing on the other end. He smirked and said, "This is the part where we're supposed to hang up I think."

"Yeah," Peter said. "How about we not, and just go to sleep instead?"

"I'm fine with that." Wade listened to Peter move around, probably getting into bed. He had a pretty vivid memory of Peter's sleepy-eyed looks, how his face would go slack when he finally fell asleep. He would miss that, too.

After getting settled, Peter said, "Tell me about your home."

Wade did. He told him about the underground city and the Citadel. Told him about the ancient ruins in the deepest part of the old caves, and all the places where the upper and lower cities connected. He talked about the people and the food, anything that came to mind until Peter stopped responding.

Smiling, Wade whispered, "Goodnight, Peter."

Chapter Text

Having such an abundance of time off left Peter feeling a little lost. Luckily, Aunt May provided him with an abundance of tasks to keep him occupied. The back porch step was loose and needed a new board. The railing needed replacing, too. The upstairs bathroom toilet needed the flushing mechanism fixed. There was a leak in the kitchen sink, and a burner on the stove that no longer worked. Then there was mowing the lawn and weeding the flowers. And of course the neighbor needed their lawn mowed too.

It was hot work, and Peter developed a tan unlike he had in years. Not to mention all the handyman work gave his muscles a much needed workout. The tasks kept his mind busy with things like measurements and circuits instead of thinking about a certain scarred mercenary.

He and Wade talked almost every night. At first Peter felt a little awkward calling, always afraid he would be interrupting story time or family time, but Wade insisted that he wasn't. Once he even got a call from Shiklah, which was a mix of terrifying and pleasant. Everything about Shiklah was terrifying and pleasant. She called to inquire about the Dust image he took while she fed, which made Peter spontaneously pop wood. He developed the Dust before leaving the Institute, but hadn't had a chance to look at it. He was actually kind of frightened to look at it.

Then that night after her call, Peter couldn't stop thinking about it and ended up watching the layered image of Dust and visible light. About five minutes in, when Shiklah asked to kiss him, there was a distortion in the visible light layer. The distortion turned the entire image to static, but the Dust image was still sharp and Peter could see the same looming beast of light that he thought he imagined while she was feeding. Clearly, it was not his imagination. He wondered what the visible light image would have showed, and wondered if he really wanted to know.

One thing he noticed is that both he and Wade has substantially less Dust when the feeding was over. It was a big change, and Peter theorized that had his Dust not been so high because of Wade's touch, he might have been left feeling very drained instead of very turned on.

The second week of his hiatus, Peter went to work with Aunt May at the Oblation clinic. It was actually called the Queens Public Health Center, but the majority of the patients had been oblated. For the last few years, there were several movements by the Magisterium to oblate the homeless. Many accepted the procedure if it meant getting a meal and a bed to sleep in the harsh New Amsterdam winters.

The result, though, was nothing less than tragic. The humans were more like zombies, always being ushered from place to place and having no desires or interests. They sat in groups watching TV or eating, with their daemons who were desperate for their human's touch to the point they never broke contact. Neither human nor daemon had any kind of independent will. They could not think for themselves or act out of their own interest.

It was heartbreaking. It was also infuriating.

Then there was the constant presence of the Magisterium, often disguised as clergy. Some of them seemed to actually care about the victims of oblation, though they could do little more than dress wounds from the human's lack of care about their physical form. However, there were others that Peter was certain only enjoyed seeing misery. The worst was Randall Darby, whose preferred method of therapy was electro-shocks.

After a few days there, Peter asked Aunt May, "How can you be in that place? The doctors are monsters."

"I'm there because the patients need me," May answered, looking exhausted. She always looked exhausted, and Peter knew it probably had little to do with the work and everything to do with the environment.

The only mutant doctor that Peter liked was Dr. Kurt Wagner. He was blue-skinned, with red eyes and a whip of a tail, but he had a kind smile and spoke gently to his patients. Peter was convinced that the man genuinely wanted to help others. Peter worried about him, though, with how openly he spoke about his dislike of oblation. He believed that God was furious over the practice, and wasn't afraid to tell others about it publicly.

Friday of the second week, Peter got a call from Janet van Dyne. She wanted to meet with him on Monday morning because the Magisterium's Board of Travel was going to have a hearing to review their travel plans, and she needed to prep Peter for the occasion. Peter spent the weekend on the edge of panic. He had so many bad scenarios going through his head, all of them ending with him in Bolvangar. He called Wade in hopes of some kind of comfort.

"Look in your phone's contacts," Wade told him after Peter went through all of his fears. "Do you see the name Alex Hayden?"

Peter scrolled down to H, and found Hayden, Alex. He asked, "Who's Alex Hayden?"

"That's sort of my business number," Wade said. "If you ever find yourself in a bind, call that number. I'll know that it is an emergency, and I'll take appropriate action."

Strangely, Peter did feel better hearing that. He asked, "What if I can't call, though?"

"Give it to your Aunt, too. Miss May should know that number," Wade said. "And it goes for her too. If she's in trouble, call me. I mean it. Fact is, I need to protect you now."

"I can take care of myself, Wade," Peter said with a bit of exasperation.

Wade's voice was serious. "You know too much about me and especially Evan. I can't let them pick your brain, Spidey."

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

"Still, I would protect your sweet ass no matter what," Wade said with a chuckle.

Peter felt a lot better after that call.

Monday morning found Peter wearing his one and only suit sitting across from Janet van Dyne in a small restaurant in Manhattan, eating toast because that was the cheapest thing on the menu. Despite the large sum of money that Tony laughably called "hardship funds", Peter didn't feel like being extravagant. Especially when those funds would go pretty far to help take some of the pressure off Aunt May, if he could just figure out how to package it so she would accept his help.

Janet was all business, going over the budget and list of names being considered for the research team. Since Allat Holdings was very generous with their grant, so generous that Janet questioned their intentions despite Tony's repeated assertions that there was nothing nefarious about the mega-corporation that owned every bank south of the Isthmus. Thus, Janet was being very judicious with the funds. She was choosing her people based on who would work for credit and how the overall team would look to the Board of Experimental Theologians.

Peter's presence was a red flag, no doubt. Even if the rest of the world didn't know about Bucky and I.D.A. or Ultron, they knew about his Dust developing methods. Soon they would know about his streaming Dust camera. Soon, Peter feared, he would be the subject of Magisterium hearings.

Janet was the Project Lead, and Peter was her co-head. The two of them would lead the Physics portion of their study. Curt Connors would be head of biology studies, and was to meet them at the hearing. Peter knew Connors from when he was at the University. He was a brilliant man with some very unorthodox views of biology. He would have his own group of interns and conduct a variety of experiments on local flora and fauna to be found in the Antarctic.

"I have acquired some safe names," Janet said, opening another folder. "There's a team of four that are just fantastic. They are focused on stellar Dust phenomena, but also do work with geology and seismology, which I'm listing as their area of study for the Board of Travel."

Peter read over the names—Sue and Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, and Ben Grimm. He'd heard of Reed Richards because of a paper he published on the potential effects of living in a high-Dust environment, such as near the poles. His study was done on a group of witches who cross into a lifeless zone to do their final initiation, which serves to stretch their connection to their daemons. Peter was almost a part of that study, but he opted to go to work (briefly) for OsCorp.

Dr. Otto Octavius and his associate Max Dillon would be part of the team more in name only. They would go to the island of Aubergine polar facilities to test out a variety of alloys for robotics and conductivity in extreme environments. Dr. Ella Whitby was coming along to continue her study of indigenous groups that lived in the archipelago. She was there once before, but her funding was cut due to some kind of interpersonal controversy.

"Mostly, they will be cover," Janet said with a smirk as she sipped her water. "I need to maintain a balanced appearance. Some of these people have worked for the Magisterium in the past. They'll make us look good. Plus we'll have a bunch of interns with no affiliation to anything or anyone."

Peter frowned. "What if they decide to report on what we're doing?"

"They'll be too busy with their own projects to worry about what our team is doing," Janet said with confidence. "Besides, we also have the local researchers to keep them occupied."

"Local?" Peter said as she slid him another document.

"The current head of the facility is Roberto de Costa," Janet said, tapping his picture. "He's a mutant, used to go to the Jean Grey School until he was expelled for unorthodox behaviors. Son of industrialist Emmanuel de Costa. He is brilliant, and has an ego to match his brilliance."

"Can't be any worse than Tony," Peter said.

Janet frowned. "No. He's worse. Trust me. I've spoken with him. You'd think he was the reason the sun rises."

"Is he a problem?" Peter asked. "Like, Magisterium-wise?"

"I highly doubt it, considering his father is so staunchly against all things Erik Lensherr," Janet said on a sigh. "So at least he has that in his favor."

Peter read over the rest of the names, nibbling on his toast as he read through their specialties. His eyes settled on the name Sofia Mantega, a meteorologist. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

"The main thing that we will be working on is oblation reversal," Janet said, her voice a bit softer. "It has been one of Tony's pet projects, but last year he had to end public research on the subject."

"Oh?" Peter said as he sipped his water.

"The Institute was almost shut down over it," Janet said. "He had to pay a hefty fine and was sentenced to a year of probation. Bet you can't guess who his probation officer is."

Peter's brow scrunched. "Not Steve."

"Yes Steve." Janet chuckled, and said, "You missed it when he was first there. Steve was, how do I want to put this…"

"Rigid?" Peter offered.

Janet smirked. "I was going to say a dick. But, as we all know, Tony has a way of winning people over." She sighed, "I just don't know how many more wins he has left. Have you heard about the new Oblation mandate?"

Peter nodded. Aunt May had filled him in on it, and in his opinion, it was the most disgusting thing to come out of the Magisterium so far. Anyone receiving aid from the Magisterium or any of its funded services could be subject to Oblation. Everyone incarcerated for any offense will be oblated. These rules, of course, apply only to humans, and thanks to a hefty amount of support from the Church and media talking heads, people were probably going to line up outside the Oblation Clinics to have the connection to their daemons severed voluntarily. The rhetoric was disgusting: This will help solve the homeless problem. If you want your rights, you shouldn't be a burden to society. It only affects you if you break the law. If you've done nothing wrong, you've got nothing to worry about.

It was outrageous.

"Really, High Brazil is sounding pretty nice," Peter said softly.

Janet nodded. "Hank and I have discussed moving there for quite some time, actually. Sounds like a nice place to retire and fight the Theocracy."

Peter sighed, thinking about Wade and wondering what he was doing. He had to fight to shove those thoughts away, because they had a small committee hearing to get to. He looked at Janet and asked, "What time are we meeting with the reps from the Board?"

"2:30," Janet said as she started gathering her papers. "We should probably head that way."

A long time ago when New Amsterdam was founded, there was a rule made that no building could be taller than the Magisterium's Consistorial Court. Thus, it was very hard to miss the massive spire at the center of Manhattan island. The closest in height was the headquarters for Stark Industries, which kept within the regulation by six inches, and in truth exceeded the Consistorial Court by fifty feet because of a radio tower. Tony Stark paid the fine every year to keep the tower, which was his subtle middle-finger to those in power.

Still, even in a city like New Amsterdam where all the buildings were towering monstrosities that touched the sky, the Consistorial Court was an imposing presence. The exterior was almost all glass, tinted black so that no one could look inside, making it look like a piece of obsidian sticking out of the ground. It was designed to be intimidating, just like the black uniforms of the guards that were armored versions of clergy robes.

The entrance of the building was lined with layers of security. Peter and Janet spent the first half hour going through metal detectors and body scanners and x-rays, both receiving a very inappropriate patdown that made Peter want to punch the handsy security agent. There were signs everywhere declaring that this was a secured area, and they were all under surveillance. Judging by the devices Peter spotted on the walls, they were probably even listening in on phone conversations.

Peter took his lead from Janet, who moved with purpose and silence through the halls, not making eye contact with any of the Magisterium agents they passed, but also not showing the least bit of deference to them. Janet was a small woman, standing barely five feet, but Peter was certain that she could be vicious if put in a corner, if her wasp daemon was anything to go by.

Waiting outside the conference room was Dr. Conners. He stood and gave both Janet and Peter a firm handshake, and said, "Are we ready for battle?"

Conners had opted to wear the black coat of a theologian, much like he wore teaching his classes, with his monitor lizard daemon seated at his feet wearing a silver collar around its neck. He looked every bit the part of a Magisterium loyalist, and Peter knew well that it was all an act. Conners knew how to play the game.

Inside, the committee was seated behind an elevated wood desk. It was a committee of three, two men with a crow and a dragonfly daemon, and one woman with a daemon otter. Peter, Janet, and Curt sat at the table in front of the committee, Janet seated at the center with all her notes spread out in front of her, her wasp crawling into a small, clear box for the proceedings. Peter followed her lead and placed Gwen on the table. She sat up straight, unabashedly looking at the committee's daemons. Conners' daemon lay in front of the table.

The committee chairman, the man with the raven, spoke first, announcing, "The Board of Travel committee #138 is now in session. We have received your briefs, Dr. van Dyne, and have researched your history as an experimental theologian as well as the credentials of the rest of the group for whom you are attempting to secure travel privileges."

The woman said, "We have found a few red flags in your documents, namely the fact that the two principal heads of this expedition to Patagonia are connected to Dust research. Namely, Mr. Peter Parker and you yourself Dr. van Dyne." She smiled, and said, "According to your mission statement, you and your company will be studying the area's biology, chemistry, and anthropology. How are we to believe that is the truth, when you have worked actively for the heretic Anthony Stark for the last ten years?"

"I am an experimental theologian," Janet answered with her own smile, and Peter could feel the waves of disdain coming off of her. "I study all that is pertinent to further my personal projects. Mr. Stark provided an excellent, well-equipped lab space to continue to study Pym Particles and pursue my work in prosthesis. If you read my record, you know that none of my work is directly connected to Mr. Stark's, other than to create miniatures of various apparatus, which I have also done for the Magisterium's experimental theologians working on the new infrastructure program."

They continued to grill Janet for nearly an hour, having her explain Pym particles and miniaturization. Janet had to repeatedly refute claims that her work was associated with the Veil or Dust or anything that the Magisterium considered subversive.

"And you, Mr. Parker?" the committee person with the dragonfly said. "Your name appears on two patents, and you have been mentioned prominently as a so-called Dust researcher, with your name on two patents for Dust capture devices. What is your focus?"

Peter cleared his throat and said in a voice that was solid, "My primary research is in polymers derived from spider silk. It was the subject of my thesis, and has been the focus of my attention. My association with Dust is largely because components from other projects ended up being used in an optics lab. Experimental theology does not exist in a vacuum, sir. Often an advance in one area will prop up another, as with my research."

"And what of your association with Edward Brock?" the woman asked.

The question took Peter by surprise. He looked at her and asked, "How does that pertain to these proceedings?"

"Answer the question," another said.

Peter answered, "Edward Brock was a friend of mine in high school. I haven't talked to him in nearly 3 years."

"Are you aware that Mr. Brock has openly defied the Magisterium, and on three occasions been associated with the terrorist organization called the Thunderbolts?" the woman asked.

Peter felt slightly taken back. "No. I had no idea."

The committee moved on, but Peter felt like he'd been slapped in the face. He couldn't believe that Eddie would be involved with a terrorist group. Sure, he was a hothead who had a fast temper, but he didn't seem like the type. Peter couldn't help but think that, yeah, he had a certain type when it came to the men in his life.

By the time the committee was done with them, Janet, Peter, and Curt all three felt like they had been put through the wringer. Every paper that Janet and Curt had ever published was questioned. Janet's husband's work was questioned. Every minor association with anyone at all was questioned. The committee hearing lasted almost three hours, and it felt like a lifetime by the time it was finished.

"Well that went spectacular," Curt groused as they walked out of the Consistorial Court. He stopped at the bottom of the steps, and said to Janet, "What do you think our chances are?"

"I don't know," Janet said with a shrug. "Statistics and odds mean nothing to a bunch of backwards inquisitors who'll just flip a coin and say their sky-daddy made the choice. I'm not going to speculate."

"I think I'm going to go home and pretend today didn't happen," Peter said as he loosened his tie. "Anyone else going to Queens?"

"I think you're on your own," Curt said. "Just make sure you text me when you get there."

"Me too," Janet chimed in. "I don't want anything happening to you."

Peter gave them both a funny look, but they seemed serious. So he said, "Yes mom and dad."

The subway was packed that time of day, and Peter found himself crammed inside one of the cars feeling somewhat like a sardine. There was a lot of grumpy people ready to be home. Peter had Gwen tucked safely in his inner pocket. Others kept their smaller daemons under hats and in small bags. Larger daemons were loaded in pet carriers. During his time in college, Peter learned that there was a phenomenon in big cities where daemons tended to be smaller or pygmy versions rather than large animals like horses found frequently in less urban areas. It was part of the evolution of the species, he figured, since a couple generations ago large daemons were far more common in New Amsterdam.

Peter also imagined it had something to do with the amount of Dust in the atmosphere. He figured that large daemons required more Dust, perhaps. And being in an environment with so many people with only so much Dust to go around, perhaps it limited their size and variety. He saw many birds and flying insects, several small rodents and small dogs and cats. He made a mental catalogue of every daemon that came on and departed.

All of this kept him quite busy, so busy that Peter didn't notice the man in the black cassock who had been following him since the Consistorial Court. Peter might not have noticed him at all if not for the fact that Peter caught the man staring at him. When Peter got out at the Jamaica station, his shadow did, too.

Peter did his best to not panic about the fact that he was being followed by a Magisterium agent, even if everything in him was starting to go into fight or flight mode. He kept his pace brisk as he walked through the streets. It was broad daylight, lots of people out and about. It wasn't like the guy was going to throw a hood over his head and shove him into a black van with so many people around, right? Right?

Peter got his phone out of his pocket, his regular phone and silently cursed the fact that he didn't have Wade's phone number programmed in it, even if Wade's number was a series of incomprehensible symbols. He texted Aunt May, telling her, I'm three blocks from home. Do you want me to pick up anything from the store?

It was a simple message, telling her that he was on his way, and if he didn't show up, May would know that something was wrong. She texted back a few minutes later for him to pick up some deli meat from Schmitz.

Peter's shadow followed him into the delicatessen, not even bothering to look like he was shopping. Peter ordered a half pound of pastrami and a half pound of ham and picked up a loaf of rye while he was waiting. Part of him wanted to confront the agent, but then again he didn't think that would go well. He suddenly wished he was wearing his running shoes, because it would be nothing to hop up the side of one of these buildings and be out of sight, running and jumping his way home like he did when he was a kid.

As it was, his dress shoes were not broke in and the slick soles would be useless for trying to momentum jump anything without breaking his neck.

"Sir?"

Peter looked up and realized he'd dazed off while the clerk had totaled his purchase. He chuckled and swiped his bank card, then left the store with is shadow following closer behind. When he got to Aunt May's door, Peter hurried inside and closed the door quickly.

The Magisterium agent was standing at the bottom of the steps, a smirk on his face. Peter cringed inside when the agent waved, then casually walked across the street and sat on the bus stop bench. Though his hands were shaking, he texted both Curt and Janet that he made it home safe and sound.

"Something wrong, honey?" May asked from the kitchen door.

Peter closed the blind and said in a low voice, "A Magisterium agent followed me all the way home."

May frowned, and said, "I would love to say that's a surprise, but they do that to me every couple weeks. Did you pick up the pastrami?"

Dinner was passed mostly in silence, and Peter barely had an appetite. The day had been stressful beyond what he thought it would be. He wanted to call Wade, but now there was a black car across the street, and Peter was certain they were listening to them. He also thought he might be paranoid, but when May shook her head to silence him every time he started to say something, Peter knew that maybe the paranoia was a good idea.

He went to bed early, digging out Wade's phone and sending him a text. Can't call tonight. I went to Church and the Church followed me home, so I've taken a vow of silence.

Wade responded with, You need an assist?

I don't think so, but if you don't hear from me I'm probably in a black van. Peter hoped he didn't sound too paranoid.

Wade answered, I doubt they'll do anything, but if I go two days without hearing from you, I'm going to assume something happened and respond accordingly.

I'll keep you updated, Peter replied, feeling a little better. What are you doing tonight?

Cleaning my sword, he responded.

Peter chucked and sent, Is that a euphemism?

You and your dirty mind, I swear. Wade sent a follow up a minute later that said, We're not going to start sending dick pics, are we? Cause I'm a classy fella. Don't want my man-meat out in cyberspace.

Peter snorted a laugh, and said, We'll keep the sexting to a minimum for now.

So you don't want to hear how I'm stroking my giant katana with oil dripping down my hand?

And if Peter was turned on by that, it was his business.

Chapter Text

Wade found it hard to focus on sharpening his blades and cleaning his guns after Peter stopped texting. Though he told Peter not to worry, Wade knew that it was never good when the Magisterium was taking a special interest in someone. There was a lot that could happen under the guise of public safety, and the idea of Peter ending up in a Magisterial jail was enough to leave him agitated.

Bob was feeling the same. Wade could tell by the way the daemon was pacing. Twice Wade has to stop him from picking at the feathers on his chest. Wade put him on his shoulder and made sure to pet him frequently, wishing that Peter and Gwen were not so far away. Or at least that he knew what to do about the situation.

While Wade was brooding, Ellie came to the door and said, "Are you going to braid my hair tonight?"

"I'll be there in a minute, baby girl," Wade said, giving her a smile as he grabbed a rag to wipe the gun oil from his hands. "You got a book picked out for tonight?"

"Yes," she said as she approached the table where his weapons and implements were laid out. "How come you have so many guns?"

"Because I need them for my job," Wade answered as he started tucking them into cases.

"When you're protecting people?" Ellie asked.

Wade nodded and continued stowing away his armaments in the safes.

Ellie frowned and asked, "Do you ever get hurt?"

"No, baby," he said as he closed the final safe. He didn't like lying, but he wasn't going to tell his 8-year-old that he'd been gutted before. He picked her up and said, "Have you grown another inch?"

She giggled and said, "You're shrinking."

"I'm old. Old people do that." He carried her out of the armory and put her down in the hall while he locked the door. "What did you learn at school today?"

"Miss Preston told us about Lyra Belacqua," Ellie said with a smile. Wade took her hand and they walked through the dim halls with Bob and Ven leading the way and Ellie talking about Ice Bears and Will Perry. "Grandma Alfreida says that it's all just a story. Do you think it's all just a story?"

Wade shrugged. "I don't know. But I've met a real life panserbjorn."

Ellie's eyes lit up. "Do they really talk!"

"Yes, but they're pretty grumpy and like to be alone." Wade and Ellie walked into the family room where Shiklah and Carmelita were on the large couch, Carm's feet in Shiklah's lap while Shiklah read over business reports and Carmelita worked on stitching a tear in one of her gowns. Evan and Quentin were sitting in the chairs by the window overlooking the underground city, going over vocabulary in Portuguese. Señora Camacho was sitting her her ratty old chair cutting up cloth to make another quilt. There was traditional music playing on the radio, something very calming.

Wade sat on one end of the empty couch and unlaced his boots, with Ellie grabbing them to pull them from his feet.

"¡Dios mío! Tus pies huelen a mierda," Señora Camacho groused.

"Mamá," Carmelita said with a withering glare.

Ellie gave one of them a sniff, and said, "They smell like your feet, abuelita."

Shiklah and Wade chuckled. Señora Camacho grumbled something about disrespectful children, and Carmelita said, "Please be more respectful, Eleanor."

"Okay," Ellie said, though her eyes were still sparkling with mischief. She carried Wade's boots to the small closet and returned with a small box full of hair ties and barrettes. After handing the box to Wade, she sat on the floor between his knees with a coloring book in her lap and said, "Can you do the twisty braids again?"

"Sure," Wade said, and he started combing Ellie's hair. Her hair was thick and dark brown, just like her mother's. And her curls were a mix of kinks and perfect curly Q's. Wade ended up flying solo with Ellie for a couple weeks two years prior, and during that time he learned how complicated her hair could be. Thus, Wade learned how to manage and style Ellie's hair. Sometimes he wove pieces of bright fabric or feathers into the braids. Sometimes he topped her head with a crown of flowers like Carmelita often wore.

As he braided, Wade thought about Peter's predicament with the Magisterium. He did not like the idea of agents being that close to him. It made him nervous, because Peter was not trained to withstand interrogation. He definitely wasn't trained to deal with torture. The thought that either could happen to him was very unsettling.

"I could buy you a thousand silk dresses, my love," Shiklah said to Carmelita as she began stitching another section.

Carm gave her a withering look, and said, "You should not discard what could be restored."

Shiklah smiled, rubbing Carm's let. "It would be my pleasure to do so."

"It is my pleasure to fix things," Carm answered. She spread the folds of the skirt, displaying the places that she had repaired over the years. "Every one of these patches are memories, moments that should not be forgotten or replaced."

"Why must all my loves be so sentimental?" Shiklah sighed, though her tone was fond.

"You are just as sentimental, amore. Otherwise you would not have loves such as Wade and I." Carm looked at Wade. "Don't you agree?"

Wade was still in deep thought over Peter's predicament. Had his braiding and brushing not been as second nature as field dressing his weapons, he would have stopped entirely. His hands were moving, but his mind was far away.

It wasn't until Ellie looked up at him and said, "Daddy?" that Wade realized how much he had vacated.

He blinked, looking at her then looking up at Shiklah and Carm, who were both giving him matching amused looks. He chuckled. "What?"

Shiklah answered, "Our wife suggests that I like patched things."

"Patches?" Wade said, his brow furrowing. "Weren't you just saying something about not using patches?"

Carmelita said, "I told her that she must love them, because she loves things such as you and I, who so often need a patch or two."

Wade cocked his head, his mind again drifting, but this time going in a very specific direction. As he pulled out another hair tie, he said, "Hey, Evan."

Evan perked up. "Yeah?"

"Come here a sec. I need you to do something for me." Wade gestured to his phone on the small table, and Evan grabbed it as he sat beside him. "Go into my contacts. I want you to find the name Robert Stirrat. Open a message, and I'm going to give you a series of numbers to send."

"Okay." Evan did as he was asked, typing in the numbers as Wade listed them off without even pausing in his braiding.

"Send it, and tell me what he replies." Wade tied off the part he was working on. The top of Ellie's head was starting to resemble a basket weave.

The phone buzzed, and Evan looked at the screen. "He, uh, he called you a name, and asked what he needs to fix."

"Tell him electrical, plumbing, the works." Then Wade added, "End it with, much love, and call him the same name."

Shiklah looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What are you scheming over there?"

"Taking out some house insurance in Queens," he answered.

Shiklah smiled.

After finishing with Ellie's hair, Wade escorted her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, then it was off to bed for a reading of Josefina Javalina. Ellie was asleep by the end of the book, and Wade walked out to find Evan waiting for him in the hall.

"What was that text about?" he asked.

"Peter's having some trouble with the Magisterium," Wade answered once they were far enough away from Ellie's door. "Just making sure that they don't become a problem."

Evan frowned. "I feel like I put so many people in danger."

"You didn't," Wade said. "Fact is, Peter's troubles have nothing to do with you and everything to do with his area of research."

"Why does the Magisterium want to suppress Dust research?" Evan asked as they re-entered the family room. Señora Camacho had gone to bed, and Evan was somewhat relieved. She was cranky.

Wade shrugged. "I think it's because Dust could prove that homosuperior isn't really superior to regular old humans. Or even prove that there are superhumans out there without the X-gene."

"But why would that affect the Chancellor?" Evan asked.

Shiklah said, "Because Lensherr has set himself up as a god, or at least as the mouthpiece of God. He has done much to harm so many, humans and mutants alike. With systematic oblation and violence against humans and what he considers undesirable mutants, he is pushing the world towards either servitude or war. As it stands, I fear he could bring this world to its knees."

Evan nodded. He held Celestia, who was still holding onto her rabbit form. Evan said, "When my daemon settles, and my mutant powers manifest, I want to start training with the Gray Warriors. I've been watching them, their youths. I think that is what I want to do."

"If that is your desire, you have much work to do between now and then. The Warriors start training very young, younger than Ellie." Shiklah smiled and added, "I will inform Amjad and Baqir, and have them catch you up on their lessons."

Evan laughed nervously, and said, "I expected there to be some kind of, I don't know, disapproval?"

"This is a warrior culture," Carmelita said. "Even witches are trained as warriors. Most are experts with a bow, or in the case of Natasha, in any kind of weaponry."

"The Gray Warriors live by the Code of Nine, which is a set of virtues and standards of conduct. They are highly disciplined," Shiklah said. Then she gave a nod, and said, "I believe you will do well among their ranks."

There was a noise from across the room, and Shiklah said, "Have you something to add, Mr. Quire?"

Quentin set aside his book and said, "Evan is not a warrior. He's not a shedim. He's the Apocalypse. He's a one mutant army. Your warrior code is a joke compared to his power."

"You're wrong," Evan said, coming to his feet. "I know enough about En Sabah Nur to know that having a code is a good idea. I don't want to be without a compass, because you're right. I am an Apocalypse. But Apocalypse has two meanings. One is destruction. The other is revelation, bringing to light everything that has been hidden. I don't want to be a destroyer. I want to be the light."

Quire said, "You know they translate En Sabah Nur wrong, right? It really means The First Light. He didn't want to be a destroyer either."

Evan's brow furrowed, and he said, "I will not be like him."

"You are following in his footsteps on every front," Quire said as he stood. "I don't want to upset you, but every step you take is bringing you closer to being the thing you don't want to be. You should be studying philosophy, not war."

"We don't live in a time of philosophers," Evan said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "If I was born earlier. If William had lived, maybe he could have been the philosopher. But I need to know how to fight."

Quentin picked up Indie, his chameleon daemon, who had been grooming Celestia. He said, "In that case, I hope you are stronger than he was." With that, Quire left the room.

Evan stared at the door and almost jumped when Wade put a hand on his shoulder. Evan looked up at Wade and asked, "Do you think he's right?"

"I don't think the future is set in stone, kid," Wade answered. "But you're right. This isn't the age when philosophers are going to change the world." He smirked and said, "Still, I'll get you some books on Siddartha, just in case."

Peter was sitting at the table with Aunt May, drinking his second cup of black coffee when there was a knock at the door. He got up and sluggishly walked to the livingroom to peek out the blinds. At first he didn't notice anyone out there until he looked a little lower and saw the top of a bald head.

Cautiously, Peter opened the door to see a short man who was barely over 4 feet tall, with a sweat-shined bald head, thick white mustache, and a very surly expression. Peter asked, "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to do the repairs," he said, giving Peter a look that was probably meant to communicate something, but Peter wasn't reading it. "You've got some electrical problems, maybe some bugs." Peter was about to tell him he had the wrong address, then he said, "I was sent by Hayden Handyman service?"

Hayden rang a bell, and Peter stepped back and let the man inside. He closed the door before he asked, "As in Alex Hayden?"

"The one and only," the man answered. He set his toolbox on the coffee table and opened the lid. A scraggly looking rat daemon crawled out of the box and up to the man's shoulder. The man said, "Name's Patch. This is Mercy."

"Peter and Gwen," Peter said as he pointed from himself to his daemon.

Aunt May came out of the kitchen with Bay sitting on her shoulder. She gave Peter a curious look and Peter mouthed back that it's okay.

Then Patch said, "Sorry for the delay, ma'am. I'll get the bugs out of your basement in short order." He typed a message into his phone and held it up for Peter to see. Where do you talk the most. Can't deaden the whole house, or it will look suspicious. Verbally he asked, "Where are the bugs the worst?"

"In the kitchen and the bedrooms," Peter answered.

Patch nodded, and said, "Okay. I'll get right on that." He walked to the kitchen with a nod and smile to May, and went to work pulling out a variety of tools and gadgets. He dug around under the sink, unscrewed a couple power outlets, disassembled the kitchen phone, and pulled the stove away from the wall. Then he went back through, putting each item back to rights after installing several small pieces that looked like little more than a piece of rust from a distance, but upon closer inspection had tiny circuits etched into them.

Twenty minutes later, Patch motioned for them to come into the kitchen, and he said, "Okay, my friends, this room is a safe room to talk. Anything said in here can't be heard beyond the walls, with the notable exceptions of sounds coming from the sink, fire alarm, phone, and stove. Those items all make noise and it's suspicious if you eat a bacon and egg sandwich without the sound of a sizzle."

"I'm assuming this isn't your first time doing this, Mr. Patch," May said as she sat at the table.

"No, ma'am," he answered as he sat across from her. "Been silently fighting the Magisterium since I was knee-high to nothin'. Ain't easy sometimes, and I have seen my fair share of jail time. Luckily, I have the same friends as your nephew."

"I'll have to send a thank you to Tony Stark," May said with a smile.

Patch snorted a laugh, and said, "Tony Stark ain't the one that sent me, ma'am."

Peter felt a sudden rush of panic, because there were a lot of things that Peter had told May about Wade Wilson, but he kind of failed to mention he was a slightly subversive mercenary. In fact, he'd implied that he was a scholar and research fellow, mainly because he didn't want May to worry.

Now he was worried, and he was trying to formulate some kind of lie when Patch said, "Alex Hayden isn't really that well known."

Peter had to fight to keep from letting out a relieved sound. He cleared his throat and hopped up on the counter. "How do you know Mr. Hayden?"

"I know him from way back," Patch answered as he sipped his coffee. "I met him fifteen or so years ago, I think. Back when he was a mouthy merc with a real bad memory problem. I was disappointed when he disappeared. At least until I found out what happened to him."

"What happened to him?" May asked, all motherly concern. Peter felt like an asshole. He knew he was going to have to tell her the truth about Wade soon.

Patch shrugged, and said, "It's not a pleasant story, ma'am."

"Can't be any more unpleasant than the things I deal with at work," May said, and Peter had to agree.

"There's a lot of things that are worse than Oblation," Patch said with a frown. He looked at May and asked, "Have any of your patients ever mentioned something called the World?"

May raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Recently, in fact. At first I thought he was just traumatized, but it seemed to be somewhere he's actually been."

"I guarantee he's been traumatized, too," Patch said. "It's the Magisterium's favorite way to deal with squeaky wheels. If you know someone who's been there, you've probably met someone who was going to cause a lot of problems."

May nodded, and said, "Do you have any advice for helping someone who has been in this World thing?"

"Yes," Patch said as he finished his coffee. "My advice is to keep your distance. You're already being watched by the powers that be. I guarantee this person is being watched closely, and anything he sees is likely being reported back to a handler. It takes a long time and a lot of willpower to break the Magisterium's hold."

May sighed, and said, "I hate the Magisterium."

"You're not alone, ma'am," Patch said. He stood and picked up his tools. "I'm going to go finish up in the bedrooms and pound some pipes in the basement, then I'll be out of your hair."

After he was gone, May looked at Peter and said, "How worried should I be about you?"

Peter hugged her and said, "You don't have to worry about me at all. I'm perfectly safe."

"Sounds like you have very useful friends," May said against his shoulder. "Tell this Alex Hayden thank you for me, okay?"

Peter sighed. "About that, I feel like I should come clean about something."

May looked up at him. "What?"

Peter stepped back. "Alex Hayden is a code name. For Wade. Wade is Alex Hayden."

"Is he safe?" she asked.

"Yeah, Aunt May. He's not going to hurt anyone," Peter answered.

May frowned. "I mean, is he safe where he is?"

Peter smiled. "Yeah. He's perfectly safe."

"Make sure you tell him thank you from me." She kissed Peter's cheek, and poked him in the chest and sternly said, "Next time, don't sugar coat that your boyfriend is some kind of rebel. That's kind of important information."

"He's not a rebel." Peter winced and said, "He's a mercenary."

May laughed, then leaned close and said, "So was your uncle."

Peter's eyebrows went up and eyes went wide. May just chuckled, and left the kitchen.

Chapter Text

It was another month before Janet van Dyne called to tell Peter that the board had approved their travel plans. They had two weeks to prepare for travel, which included medical screenings and shots, purchasing supplies, securing transportation, and having meetings with the rest of the research team.

Janet and Peter had had many meetings over the course of the month, all taking place in the kitchen of Aunt May's house. They poured over Tony's research into oblation reversal, making notes and noting a few avenues to investigate when they were in Patagonia. Janet had a few theories of her own on the subject. One thing that she and Peter agreed on: a high-Dust environment would be beneficial. Thus, the first thing that Peter would do was construct a large-scale I.D.A. unit.

Then there was the need of people who had been oblated to test their theories. Human testing was not something Peter was typically comfortable with, and typically not something that was part of his line of research. However, this type of research demanded human test subjects.

Truth was, there would be an endless supply of people who were willing to participate. The trouble was, they really weren't able to give their consent. The ones who were newly oblated were more cogent, but those who had been living with oblation for years lacked the will to say no to anything. They were frequently victims and often used for unspeakable things that they would never tell another soul, because they couldn't.

After a month of working with Aunt May, Peter's resolve had never been stronger to find a way to cure them. So many of the injuries were obviously from violence that they could not defend against. Many were always crying, but unwilling or unable to explain why. Then there was the daemons, who clung so tightly to their humans who barely acknowledged them.

There were still Magisterium agents camped out in front of Aunt May's house. As per Patch's instructions, Peter and May had a routine of watching TV in the living room and discussing casual subjects, and only discussed their real troubles in the kitchen. The kitchen was always the main place for conversation, but now it was practically the only space where they could speak freely without fear.

If Peter was honest with himself, he was afraid of leaving Aunt May alone. The idea of being out of the country for an extended period of time with the Magisterium watching the house as it was, was terrifying. It was one thing to be five hours away with Tony Stark's private jet to get him home in an emergency. But he was going to the farthest point south before touching the southern Ice Cap. He knew that they would not be able to stay in close contact, and anything could happen.

One night, Peter told Wade his fears about this, and Wade said, "Bring her with you. If she doesn't want to go all the way to Patagonia, she can stay in my villa on the beach."

"I don't know if I want to leave my aunt alone with you," Peter said with a chuckle.

Wade, aghast, said, "You wound me, sir. I am a gentleman. A perfect gentleman."

Peter smiled. "I know you are, but my Aunt is a scary person. And I learned that you're not the only mercenary I've had in my life."

"Oh really?" Wade laughed, and said, "You telling me that May Parker is secretly Rambo?"

"No. My uncle apparently was though."

"Damn," Wade sighed. "I was really loving the idea of your aunt marauding through the jungle with camo face paint and a couple ammo belts slung across her back."

"That's an interesting mental image." Peter shook his head, and said, "I still find it hard to believe. Uncle Ben was so against violence."

"A lot of ex-mercs are, Spidey," Wade said. "Honestly, I look forward to the day I can lock the door on the armory and never open it again." They were silent for a moment, then Wade asked, "So what else have you told her about me?"

"Everything," Peter said.

And he had. After Patch was gone, she and Peter sat in the kitchen, and Peter explained everything he could about Wade Wilson, including his domestic situation with Shiklah and Carmelita, and his daughter Ellie. Peter expected May to be a little uncomfortable with the idea of Peter being involved with a man with two wives, but like all things, May seemed to take it all in stride. All she said was that they were all adults, and if it is what Peter wanted, then she would support him. She also said that if Peter got hurt, she would personally punch Wade in the jaw.

That bit of information made Wade smile.

A week before they were to leave for Patagonia, Janet van Dyne called a meeting so that all of the team could meet and mingle. Peter was excited to finally meet the Baxter Four, or the Fantastic Four as Janet called them. His favorite of them all was Sue Storm, who would be working closely with Janet on the biological side of their research. She held a Ph. D in physics, but was working on her second in biology. Her on-again, off-again fiancee, Reed Richards, was focused 100% on Dust phenomena, and like Tony Stark, didn't really hide that fact. Except on this trip, he listed his interest to being stellar dust collection from the antarctic ice.

Sue's brother, Johnny, was a geophysicist, specializing in the study of lava. More than once he'd caught himself on fire while gathering samples, thus his nickname the Human Torch. Then there was Ben Grimm, who was a mountain of a man made of muscle so solid, you would think he was made of stone. He was a geologist and worked with Johnny quite a bit on his projects. The two seemed to be in an eternal competition to out-insult the other.

Curt Connors introduced Peter to Dr. Otto Octavius and his assistant, Max Dillon. Dr. Octavius was a very interesting man. He was injured several years earlier, rendering him paralyzed from the waist down. However, thanks to his brilliant mind, he crafted an exoskeleton that allowed him to walk again. As testament to his brilliance, he had also learned to control four additional limbs that could be attached to the exoskeleton. He joked, "There's more than one reason they call me Doc Oc."

Dr. Ella Whitby seemed pleasant enough, too. Peter had a hard time imagining this woman having trouble integrating into a group, even if she did come across a little pushy and somewhat nosey. Then again, she was a psychologist and anthropologist; her study was concerning what makes people tick.

It was absolutely a room full of egos, though. There were references to various papers and publications, casual mentions of where they studied and name dropping famous professors. The interns, many of whom were slightly star struck while others were just there because they would get college credit, stayed off on their own and were mostly there because of the free food.

When Janet was just starting her presentation about the facilities, another man arrived. He stuck out among everyone for two reasons. One, he was very tall; and two, he was obviously a mutant. He had gray skin, black lips, and red eyes with a triangle mark in the middle of his forehead. His daemon was a red viper that wrapped around his upper arm, head resting on his shoulder.

"Sorry I'm so tardy," he said as he approached Janet. "My flight was delayed."

Janet smiled, and said, "Forgive me, sir, but I'm not sure I know you."

"I am Dr. Nathaniel Essex." He extended his hand to her and said, "I am head of the department of biology at Oxford, and I am quite thrilled to be joining your expedition."

Janet's eyebrow twitched. "Joining us? I was not aware."

"Oh? Were you not informed by the Board?" He opened his briefcase and handed Janet a paper as he said, "I am to be observing and participating in your activities in Patagonia on behalf of the Magisterium's Board of Experimental Theology."

The entire room was silent at that point, everyone's attention on Dr. Essex and Dr. van Dyne. Peter could see the flash of anger that went through Janet's eyes, but she schooled her expression and tone as she said, "I'm so glad that the Board is interested in our little group."

Nathaniel Essex was a glaring sign that the Magisterium was going to be a problem, and everyone in the project knew it. It didn't take much digging to find out that Essex had participated in unethical practices, including attempting to force mutations on adult carriers of the X-gene who had not developed any outward signs after their daemons settled. He was fined by the Magisterium, but the amount was paltry compared to the sinister nature of his activities.

More and more, Peter felt like the Patagonia Project was going to be his ticket to Bolvangar.

But as it was, Peter had a ticket to Rio de Janeiro, and the knowledge that there would be an overnight layover before the flight to Ushuaia.

The airport was teeming with people when Aunt May and Peter arrived. May wanted to escort him to the gate, despite him insisting that it wasn't necessary. But telling May Parker not to do something she wanted to do was about as useful as trying to put out a fire with gasoline. Peter had three large bags and one carry-on. Most flights only allowed a single checked-bag, but since the research team was taking a chartered plane and had an excess of equipment, the rules did not apply.

Janet was waiting at the security checkpoint, gathering up the interns and researchers, making sure that everyone was accounted for and that their daemons were secured for travel. The only one who would be difficult was Ben Grimm's daemon, Alice, who was a brown alpaca. Ben already declared that he would ride in the cargo area, and Curt Conners planned to join him because his monitor lizard daemon was almost too big to be comfortable in the main cabin.

"You be careful down there, Peter Parker," May said as she adjusted the lapels on his jacket. "You better send me lots of emails and take lots of pictures."

Peter smiled. "I will."

May hugged him, and whispered, "And when you see Wade, tell him he needs to come visit us soon."

"I will," Peter said with a laugh. He told Aunt May that he and Wade planned to meet up in Rio. The fact that they were going to see each other sooner than they expected was fantastic; the fact that it was only for one night was disappointing. Peter almost hoped that it would snow in Rio, just to keep their flight a little longer.

The main thing on Peter's mind was May's safety while he was gone. There was still Magisterium agents watching the house. Leaving her felt like a terrible idea, but May insisted that she would be fine. Just in case (and at Wade's urging), Peter left the untraceable phone with Wade's emergency numbers. Even if Peter could not get to her, he knew that Wade would. That kind of trust was something Peter never felt for someone else, except Uncle Ben. So many times, Peter wished that Ben were still alive. Ben would know what to do about the Magisterium agents and the clinic and everything else, probably because he was a mercenary. That was something Peter still had not gathered the courage to ask about.

After a final hug and goodbye, Peter gathered his bags and started the long, arduous process of getting through security. Their bags were X-rayed and emptied, the contents questioned and explained at three different checkpoints between the gate and the plane. Janet had to repeatedly show their Board of Travel permit and exemptions from the Council of Experimental Theology.

Only one member of their group managed to get through without being hassled, and that was Dr. Nathaniel Essex, or Mr. Sinister as Janet had started calling him. He flashed his credentials at each gate, and his bags were passed without a second glance. He was seated on the plane with a glass of wine in his hand by the time everyone else boarded.

The plane provided by Allat Holdings was very roomy. The seats were large, with compartments both for carry-on bags and enclosures for small and medium-sized daemons. Despite this, Gwen stayed in Peter's shirt pocket.

Gwen was excited. Peter could tell, even if she never directly said it. Every time that Peter talked to Wade, Gwen had him pass along messages for Bob, usually things like, I miss you and can't wait to fluff your feathers. Wade relayed them, and would tell them Bob's response by describing the way he cocked his head or ruffled his feathers.

Ten hours. Just ten hours, and they would be in Rio. Deep down, Peter knew it was going to be the longest ten hours of his life.

In the history of days, Wade was certain that none had ever been as long as the day when Peter was going to arrive in Rio. He had a hard time sleeping the night before, which seemed to amuse his wives. That morning, he got up and went for a run with Evan, who Wade was convinced had taken some kind of growth hormone because he'd grown two inches in two months. It was impossible to keep up on the kid's shoe-size.

Wade did his best to keep busy, but it wasn't easy. Every time he would start a task, he would end up staring at the clock and hoping that the time would move faster. The only thing that managed to absorb all his attention was playing a game of Chess with Ellie, who was turning into quite the strategist. He lost two out of three games, and he knew it wasn't because he was distracted. Ellie was a tiny genius, and he was certain that one day she would make an amazing queen. Or scientist. Or teacher. Or whatever it is she chooses to be.

After escorting Ellie to her best friend Rayssa's house for a sleepover, and saying goodbye to Shiklah and Carmelita (who were both shoving him out the door because they wanted to get ready for the theater and Wade kept untying the back of Shiklah's dress), Wade made his way through the city to the garage. Sometimes he wished he could convince Shiklah to build some kind of ventilation system so there could be transit inside the Monster Metropolis, but she wanted to preserve the cave environment. Wade often argued that carving an entire city into the cave system might have been a bad choice if conservation was her goal, which resulted in some very uncomfortable silences and glares, and ultimately some very angry sex that Wade still had nightmares/wet dreams about.

Wade had opted to cover his face for this outing, something he did now and then when going out into public. Sometimes he would have Shiklah or Carm cast a glamour on him as a disguise, but he didn't want to look like Tom Cruise all night with Peter. Thus, he had caked on flesh-tone makeup that smoothed out his scars and pockmarks, and Carmelita helped him pencil in eyebrows. Looking in the mirror, the face was one he recognized but no longer belonged to him.

As much as Wade wanted to meet Peter at the airport and kiss him senseless, but after hearing that the Magisterium had sent one of their own to be part of the research team, they both knew they had to be discreet. The research team was staying overnight at the Itajubá Hotel. Provided that the flight was not delayed, they should arrive a little after 6pm. Since many of the researchers intended to go out on the town for a while, it was going to be very easy for Peter to slip away. Wade gave him instructions to go to a samba club not too far from the hotel, and he would meet him there.

The last two months were full of a lot of tension, no doubt. But one thing was absolutely true: Wade and Peter knew each other so much better now than they did at Stark Institute. Before, their conversations were somewhat limited in their depth. It was rare for them to talk about serious subjects and deep fears or big hopes. They laughed and joked and flirted. Those things fed the lust. Now, they'd talked every night. Sometimes for hours into the night.

Wade didn't hold back on the details, either. It wasn't that he was trying to scare Peter away; he just didn't want there to be any surprises. He did the same with Shiklah and Carm. Part of their relationship that was so great was the complete honesty. Wade wanted to have the same with Peter. The fact that any of them wanted anything at all to do with him made Wade a little emotional.

The garage, like everything else about the Monster Metropolis, blended in with the surrounding forest. Trees grew on the roof, along with a small garden and lots of tropical plants. Even this time of year, everything was lush and green. Soon the weather would warm and flowers would bloom, and this niche of paradise would truly be a heavenly sight to behold. Wade hoped that someday the stars would align, and Peter could see this place.

The drive into the city felt like it took a day rather than an hour. By the time he arrived in downtown Rio, night had completely fallen and there was a chill in the air that bled through the soft top of Wade's SUV. Bob stayed on Wade's shoulder, every now and then a small shiver going through the daemon. Be it from the cold or anticipation, Wade knew it was a toss up because he was feeling the same tingling in his bones.

Despite the drive taking eons, Wade was early for their rendezvous. In a few months, this part of town would be swarming with people, but in the winter months it was less crowded. More quiet. There were still several tour groups, but none from New Denmark that he could tell. He milled around the clubs, watching people dance out front in the brisk night air, listened to the conversations of those he passed, ears tuned for English and filtering through the Portuguese, Spanish, and native tongues.

Then Wade saw him, and his heart seemed to simultaneously stop and pound faster. He had to get a firm grip on Bob to keep him from flying ahead to where Peter was standing on the walkway, camera in hand, taking pictures of the street. His back was to Wade, but he could see Gwen's head sticking out from the collar of Peter's shirt.

Casually, calmly, Wade walked to him, his mind trying to come up with something clever to say. Something that would be memorable. Something perfect. But when he was close enough to hear Peter's voice, not filtered through a phone, the only thing that Wade could say was, "Olá, aracnídeo."

Peter turned, and for a brief moment, he did not recognize Wade. But then he looked in his eyes, and a broad smile curled his lips. Gwen squeaked and scurried down Peter's body to where Bob was waiting on the ground. The two daemons immediately started nuzzling and snuggling each other, Gwen crawling all over Bob, smoothing his feathers while Bob nibbled on her back and ears.

"Como foi sua viagem?" Wade asked as he stepped closer, knowing he was smiling like an idiot. "Eu espero que você não está muito cansado."

Peter laughed, and asked, "What?"

That was when Wade realized he was speaking Portuguese. He laughed, and said, "Sorry. I forgot what I was doing for a minute." This time in English, he said, "How was your trip? Hope you're not too tired."

"I was feeling a little tired a minute ago, but not now." Peter wanted badly to latch onto him and kiss him, but there was so many people. Their daemons were making enough of a scene. He said, "Can we go somewhere a little less crowded?"

Wade nodded and gestured down the street. "My car's this way."

The two started walking, both fighting the urge to touch. Peter was dying to be touched by Wade. He missed the feeling of his hands. His mind often drifted to their last couple of nights together, and every time it did, he needed either a cold shower or some time alone. The fact that they were together now felt like some kind of dream. He needed the tactile contact.

Once they were away from the main street, Peter tugged Wade to him, their mouths meeting in a sloppy collision of heat and need that filled Peter's senses. His whole body was flooded by the white energy of Wade's Dust. It turned the edges of his vision hazy, made his whole body tingle.

"I've missed you," he gasped when they parted for a breath, diving back in for another kiss and cutting off Wade's soft, "Me too."

They were both panting, occasionally laughing, trying to move towards Wade's SUV but making very slow progress. Then somebody called out something in Portuguese that Peter didn't understand.

Wade flipped the guy off and shouted back, "Catar coquinho na ladeira!"

The guy and his friends kept walking, and Peter laughed as he asked, "What did you say to him?"

"I told him to buzz off," Wade answered. Then he chuckled and said, "The most literal translation is 'go pick coconuts on a slope', but buzz off is the general sentiment."

Peter laughed. Wade kissed him again, then whispered, "Let's get out of here."

This wasn't like the awkward first night at the Institute. The moment the door clicked shut, they latched onto each other as if the universe would fly apart should they stop touching. Peter didn't even look at their surroundings. The only thing he cared about was the sound that Wade made when Peter gripped the merc's cock through his pants.

The first kiss was hard, almost like a punch in the mouth that took Wade by surprise. Maybe that was what he missed most. Wade loved his wives, but their affections were gentle. Soft. Peter, for all his shy and mild-mannered behavior in public, could be a brutal. Wade wanted that. He wanted the hands that gripped his arms so hard it would leave bruises. He wanted to let someone else move him with their strength. He didn't care that the corner of the frame of the wall painting was digging into the back of his skull. The only thing he cared about was the way Peter's mouth slotted against his and the heavy exchange of breath that left them both a little light headed.

There was no asking for permission this time. No questioning glances. No reservations. Clothes were discarded in a rush, sending buttons flying to the background noise of a pocket tearing. They moved through the house, taking turns pushing the other against the wall, against a hall table, into a door, and finally they fell onto a soft bed with Peter on top of Wade. They were naked by then, both hard and desperate to get off, just to take the edge off of the burning need that was turning them both into animals.

Peter reached between Wade's legs, hand stroking the merc's cock a couple times before replacing his hand with his mouth and swallowing him down. Wade let out a strangled moan as Peter's head bobbed up and down, tongue laving at the head of his cock while his hand gripped Wade's testes. His hand and mouth worked in time, and Peter's fingers moved to Wade's hole.

It was then Peter discovered that Wade was wearing a buttplug. He pulled off Wade's cock with a wet pop, and panting for breath, said, "You're prepared."

"We don't have much time," Wade answered, his voice a breathy whisper.

Peter nipped at the scarred flesh of Wade's inner thigh, making Wade gasp before removing the plug. Wade beckoned him closer, rising up to kiss him, licking into his mouth and gripping Peter's hair as Peter rolled a condom onto his cock. He'd tucked a few in his pants pocket and had the presence of mind to grab them in their frantic bid to discard clothes. Wade wasn't the only one prepared.

It was easy to slide inside, and Peter shuddered at the feel of the tight heat of the merc's body. His hips jerked forward almost involuntarily, thrusting hard into him. Wade gripped Peter's hip, urging him to do it again. Peter found himself in a brutal rhythm that had them both making animal sounds to the slap of skin on skin.

Without warning other than a tug on his arm, Peter and Wade traded positions. And Peter decided he really liked the view of Wade riding his cock. The flex and release of his thighs, the way he threw his head back, the way his cock bounced against Peter's stomach. It was a fucking beautiful sight.

Two months. Just two months, and it felt like years had passed since they said goodbye at the aerodock. The days passed so slowly and their late night conversations always seemed too short. Peter fantasized about this night from the moment he knew it was going to happen, but even his best fantasy couldn't compare to the reality.

Peter gripped Wade's cock, stroking with the rise and fall of the merc's body. Peter was getting close. He gripped the merc's waist and started thrusting up, meeting the undulations of Wade's body in perfect time. They were synchronized, and it was perfection. He lost himself in the motion and the Dust and the feeling that he was too big for his skin.

And he was close. So close. He wanted to warn Wade that he was close, but Peter was incapable of words. All he could do was gasp as his body tightened and he came. Wade followed a moment later, hot strips of cum splattering Peter's chest and stomach. They were still for a minute, catching their breath and bathing in the afterglow that left their daemons shimmering in the dark.

Wade dismounted and walked on shaky legs to the bathroom. The sudden flood of light made Peter squint as he followed behind. The makeup hiding Wade's scars had smeared and rubbed off in places. Once Peter had cleaned himself up, he grabbed a fresh rag and reached up to wipe away the rest of the makeup.

"You sure you don't want a hot night with this flawless mug?" Wade asked. Though he tried to make it sound like a joke, Peter knew that there was some insecurity there.

Peter said, "I want to spend the night with the real you."

Once the disguise was gone, Peter smiled and said, "Should have done that first."

"We had other shit on our minds," Wade said. He kissed Peter, warm and soft, and said, "What do you want to do the rest of the night?"

"You," Peter answered.

Wade was just fine with that.

Chapter Text

It was early when the alarm on Peter's phone went off. Way too early. The night, as they both knew, was over too soon. Peter silenced the alarm and rolled over to wrap himself around the merc, who was there to meet him with a kiss. Peter knew that he could wake up like this every day and be perfectly content.

Wade brushed the hair from Peter's forehead, his fingertips trailing down the curve of his cheekbone and chin. He smiled and said, "Want me to make you breakfast?"

"Sounds good," Peter said as he leaned in for another kiss. And then another. He knew, deep down, he would always want one more. Wade was willing to give and give until they were once again wrapped around each other, hard and panting for breath.

Then the phone chimed, signaling a text message. A minute later, Peter's phone rang with Janet's tone. Wade and Peter sighed in unison, and Peter picked it up and read the message from Janet. They had a meeting that morning with Emmanuel de Costa, and she wanted Peter to be there. The meeting was in an hour.

Peter wanted to tell her he couldn't make it.

Wade said, "No. This is your job. Can't be shirking just because of my fine ass."

Peter laughed, even if he wanted to cry. "I wish you would let me irresponsible."

"You know, I heard a quote once about being responsible when you have the power to do big things, but I can't remember how it goes," Wade said as he pushed back the covers and got out of bed. He stretched, and Peter drank in the sight of his muscles moving under the veil of scarred skin.

"Can I ask you something personal?" Peter said as he sat up.

Wade laughed. "I think we're past asking for permission in that department."

Peter cleared his throat. "I've meant to ask you about the scars." Wade looked at him, confused. Peter clarified, "I mean, you've told me all about the cancer and the wonky healing. I'm talking about the ones that look like symbols."

"Oh." Wade looked down at his chest, where there were runes in raised, puckered tissue. He sat back down, leaning against the headboard to face Peter. "They are a type of spell."

"What type though?" Peter asked, still feeling like he was prying.

"It keeps my mind on track." Wade traced one of the marks, looking down at the sheet. "I used to have a really hard time remembering things. Things would happen and it wouldn't imprint on my mind. I forgot about Shiklah and Carm. I wouldn't even believe them when they said I had a daughter, and when they showed her to me…" His voice cracked and had to clear his throat before continuing. "I didn't believe she was mine because she was so beautiful."

Peter could feel his eyes stinging. Knowing how much Wade adored his daughter, the idea that he could forget her was heartbreaking. He said, "Did Shiklah do this?"

"No. It was actually my mother-in-law." Wade smiled and said, "You'll think she hates me when you meet her, but Señora Camacho is the one who taught me a lot of the magic I use."

Peter smiled. "When I meet her."

"Yeah." Wade scooted closer. "You're going to meet the rest of my family. I want you to get to know my daughter and Blind Alfreida and Senora Camacho, because I don't like keeping things separated that I care about." He kissed Peter, and added, "That means I need to meet this aunt of yours, too."

Peter's eyes suddenly went wide, and he gasped, "Shit! I forgot to call her yesterday."

Wade handed him his phone, and said, "Call her now. I promise I will behave myself. Mostly."

"No sex noises," Peter said with a chuckle as he scrolled through Wade's absurdly large contact list to the P-section, only to find nothing listed for Peter Parker. He smiled when he kept scrolling and found Spider-Man.

New Amsterdam was an hour behind Rio de Janiero, and it was pretty early. Peter half-expected Aunt May to still be asleep. Or to not answer the phone because it was Wade's number. Then again, he should have known better.

May answered on the second ring, a smile in her voice. "Hello?"

"Hey, Aunt May. It's me," Peter said.

May chuckled and said, "I figured you'd forget to call until this morning. Did you have a good night with your man?"

Peter's face was burning. "Uh, yes?"

"He's right beside you isn't he," May said.

Wade could hear her voice, and he said, "Hi, Miss May!"

May gasped, "Put me on speaker."

"Okay." Peter took the phone away from his ear and looked at Wade, who was grinning way too much. Yeah, he was slightly nervous about this moment. He hadn't really been avoiding it, especially since May was always asleep when he and Wade talked. It's just that it was nerve wracking to introduce someone, even over the phone, to the family.

Still, Peter turned on speaker and scooted closer to Wade. "Okay, you're talking to both of us now."

May said, "Hello, Wade. I've wanted to talk to you for a while, I've heard so much about you."

And Wade… Well, Wade was a little speechless. He fish-mouthed a couple times, before managing to say, "Me too. I mean, I've heard a lot about you, too."

"No need to be nervous; I'm not going to bite." May chuckled, and said, "You absolutely must come visit me sometime, though. If you're ever in New Amsterdam for anything, please come by."

"Actually," Wade said, then paused to clear his throat. "I, uh, I was going to ask you to come down here, too. You know, if you ever need a vacation from being a superhero and all."

"Oh, he is a charmer," May said with a smile in her voice. "I don't get much time off from my work, but I'll have more time pretty soon. Maybe this winter I can escape the deep freeze and have a beach-side pina colada with you and Peter."

"It's a date!" Wade declared. "Now I'm gonna go make your baby boy some breakfast. Nice talking to you, Miss May."

"You too, Wade," May said with a chipper note in her voice.

After Wade was out of the room, Peter turned off the speaker and said, "So that's Wade."

"He's seems sweet," May said. "When do you have to leave?"

"I have a meeting in an hour. After that, we're going to Ushuaia." He sighed, "This is such an important thing to be doing, and the only thing I want to do is stay here."

"Should I start forwarding your mail?" May asked.

Peter laughed, and said, "I'm going to come back."

"To visit?" May said with a knowing tone.

"That's to be determined." Peter smiled and said, "Love you, Aunt May."

"Love you too, Peter," May said. "You take care of yourself. Don't make me worry."

Peter ended the call as Gwen hopped up into his lap. She looked like Peter felt; happy but on the verge of tears.

"Do you think we'll ever not have to say goodbye?" Gwen asked softly. "I really don't like saying goodbye. It feels like my heart is being torn. It feels almost like that time I fell away from you. It hurts."

Peter held her against his neck. "I know."

It wasn't until Peter got out of bed that he realized that he had spent the night in a mansion. The night before, he was too drunk on Dust to really take in his surroundings. The only thing about the bathroom he remembered was Wade. Now he was aware that the bathroom was bigger than the living room at Aunt May's house. There was a massive walk-in shower, a tub that could easily double as a swimming pool, marble floors, walls, and counters, and he was pretty sure all the fixtures were gold.

Peter showered quickly and wrapped himself in one of the incredibly soft towels that felt like drying off with a cloud. He tried to find a label so he could attempt to find them back home, but there was no label.

The bedroom was filled with the soft light of early morning, and Peter could see that he had, indeed, spent the night in the nicest room he'd ever stepped in. The furniture, bed, bed coverings, curtains, rugs—everything not only matched, but looked as if it was handmade by an artisan. Then there was the view. Outside the windows, the only thing he could see was endless ocean.

Still wearing the towel, Peter made his way downstairs looking for his clothes that he distinctly remembered discarding on the stairs of this incredibly immaculate home. Everything was so ornate and spotless, Peter almost felt bad that he wore his shoes inside.

The bag was sitting on a small table near the door with his clothes folded and stacked neatly beside it. Peter pulled on his jeans and had to smile at the buttons missing from his shirt. Part of him wanted to wear it to the meeting, just to have Janet give him dirty looks, but he had a spare in his carry-on. After applying deodorant and cologne, Peter tucked Gwen in his pocket and went in search of the kitchen.

It was a longer search than he planned. The house was massive, built around a central patio that Aunt May's house and yard would easily fit inside. Peter walked out into it, admiring the tropical plants and ornate iron gate that led out to the two story garage. Peter had a vague memory of walking through this area, but again it was clouded by pheromones and Dust. It was cold, too, and Peter went back inside with a bit of a chill from the morning air.

After walking down a couple more hallways, Peter caught a whiff of coffee, and followed his nose to the kitchen where Wade was cutting up papaya. There was an array of breads, cheese, cold cuts, nuts, berries, and fruits on the counter.

Peter ignored the food and walked to Wade, who greeted him with a kiss. "The coffee smells amazing."

"Grab a cup; it's ready."

One sip, and Peter felt like his entire life was a lie. It was by far the most flavorful, robust, delicious cup of coffee he'd ever drank. It was so good, he was almost angry. He said, "This. Is. Amazing."

"Fresh from the plantation," Wade said with a smirk. "Those beans were grown less than a mile from here."

Peter took another drink, letting the warmth flood him. He asked, "Are you some kind of coffee magnate or something?"

Wade laughed. "No. Just a mercenary with a habit of finding good deals."

"Who did you kill to get this place?" Peter asked, mostly joking.

Then Wade answered, "A real asshole who killed a 12 year old girl. The family asked me to take care of it because the authorities wouldn't do a damn thing, so I did. I was going to be paid in Feijoada, but decided to have the prick sign over his assets before he died. The girl's family got his fortune and moved to the North. I took the house."

Peter was a little stunned. "Y-you really killed the guy who owned this place?"

Wade nodded, and said, "I know it isn't the typical way to acquire real estate, but I don't feel too bad about it, considering."

A little stunned, Peter took a sip of his coffee. Wade told him a lot about his past work. Peter knew, maybe subconsciously, that Wade killed people for money. He was a mercenary. But he'd never heard it put so bluntly. Wade killed a man and now lived in his house.

"It bothers you, doesn't it," Wade said.

Peter shrugged. "No. I don't know. It's just not something you hear every day, I guess."

There was a hint of worry in Wade's voice as he asked, "Is it a deal-breaker?"

"No!" Peter practically shouted. Then he said softer, "No. No it's not."

Wade still looked worried. "I mean, it's not my life anymore. Not really. Okay, that's not exactly true, but I don't do it just because people pay me. And I really don't want to do it anymore. I don't. I just, it's okay for you to not be cool about something. I mean, normal people don't do the things I do, and it is understandable to not be ok—umf!"

Peter's hand over Wade's mouth silenced him. "No, I don't agree with killing. But that doesn't mean it is a deal-breaker, and it doesn't mean I don't want to ever see you again. Far from it. I—" Peter smiled and said, "I'm pretty sure I love you, Wade."

Even with Peter's hand no longer covering his mouth, Wade was speechless. His face twitched here and there, a pinch on his brow, a quiver at the corner of his mouth, lips attempting to form words but failing. Then Wade kissed him, and Peter knew everything Wade was struggling to express.

Janet van Dyne was not exactly a patient woman, thus Peter was not surprised at the annoyed look she gave him when he entered De Costa Internationale. Peter had checked and double checked that his hair was in place and that there was no evidence of his evening showing on his skin. At some point, Wade had nipped his neck a little too hard. Luckily, the merc's scar-concealing makeup could cover lovebites.

Wade wasn't the reason he was almost late, though. As much as Peter thought he could handle it, he found it harder to say goodbye the second time than the first. Maybe it was because he had admitted to his actual feelings. Or maybe it was just that every time he said goodbye, he worried it would be the last time he would see Wade.

It was hard to imagine that he could feel so deeply for someone. Before, he blamed the Dust for the lonely feeling he had after saying goodbye. He knew better than that now. He knew that the Dust would dissipate after a few days, and he would still miss Wade like the winter misses warmth. Gwen was sulking in his pocket and hadn't said a word since saying goodbye to Bob.

"You're late," Janet said as Peter fell into step beside her.

Peter glanced at the clock. "We still have ten minutes."

"I've had to converse with Essex for the last fifteen minutes, and it felt like a lifetime." Janet gave him a stern look. "I don't know where you were last night, but if you are going to be the co-head of this team, you need to have your mind in the game. Emmanuel de Costa is a very important man in this region. His company is providing the facilities and our funding. Being on time with him, you might as well have stayed home."

Essex was sitting by the elevator, his red eyes fixed on a Rio newspaper. He looked up and stood as Janet and Peter approached. "Good morning, Mr. Parker. Nice of you to join us."

Peter smiled. "Sorry. Got a little lost. I wish I spoke better Portuguese. Or you know, any Portuguese at all."

Essex made an unimpressed noise and they all got in the lift.

After a moment, Peter leaned to Janet and softly asked, "I thought we were funded by Allat Holdings?"

"Allat Holdings is the mother company," Essex answered. "I've been reading about them. Quite fascinating that their board of directors is not listed on any official documents. One can only assume there is something quite nefarious about their dealings if so much secrecy is involved."

"Some would say the same about the Magisterium," Peter said, instantly wishing he hadn't said a word because he could see Essex's reflection in the polished steel of the elevator doors.

"I can see how some would think that," was Essex's response.

Yeah, Janet was going to murder Peter before the day was over.

Emmanuel de Costa was an impressive man. He was tall, fit for his age, with a full head of steel-gray hair and a perfectly groomed beard. He dressed in a tailored black suit with an ascot, and held a cigar in his left hand. His eyes were fierce and his handshake firm as he greeted them in a voice that purred with his thick Brazilian accent.

"I am so glad you have made it safely, my friends," he said as he ushered them to a group of plush leather chairs. "I trust your journey was comfortable and your night pleasant?"

"It was excellent, Sr. de Costa," Janet said with a smile. "And it is a pleasure to meet you in person."

"The pleasure is mine, Sra. van Dyne." He puffed his cigar, and said, "I have received many accounts of your team, both from you, the Magisterium, and other reliable sources, but I must say that they never mentioned you were as stunning as you are brilliant."

Peter could see Janet's eyebrow twitch. She said, "Thank you, Senhor. But I prefer to be known for my brilliance than my beauty."

Emmanuel straightened a little and said, "I certainly mean no offense."

"None taken." Janet smiled and asked, "While we are very grateful for all your company is doing for us, I am curious what you wanted to meet about today?"

He looked at Essex and said, "It is this man, your Magisterium add-on. I understand that the Board of Travel and the Council of Experimental Theologians insisted that this swine be part of your operations, but I do not approve."

Essex's face remained neutral. He said, "I see that my reputation precedes me, Sr. de Costa."

"Mutilations, forced mutations, and unethical practices are not activities with which to build a reputation," Emmanuel said sternly.

"We all make mistakes as young men," Essex said, his voice calm. "I was driven quite mad by grief, wishing only to find a cure for the incurable. I have paid for my crimes, and now wish only to pursue true theology."

"True theology. Hmph." Emmanuel looked at Janet and said, "Do you wish this man to be part of your team? If you do not, I will gladly send him home and he will never again be allowed to set foot on this continent."

Peter could tell that Janet was considering it, even if it was only for a split second.

Janet said, "To be quite frank, I would prefer it if the Magisterium was not involved in our work. I find them to be bureaucratic and lacking in imagination, often limiting progress to a snail's pace and typically repressing any useful knowledge, especially that garnered by non-mutants." She gave a resigned sigh, and said, "However, if we were to send Mr. Essex back to Oxford, I have no doubt that when the rest of us returned to New Amsterdam, Magisterium agents would be waiting to arrest us."

Peter glanced at Essex, whose face was still neutral.

"I never thought you to be a conspiracy theorist, Ms. van Dyne," Essex said.

Janet looked him right in his red eyes. "It is not a theory when it has happened. My husband, Hank, was taken by the Magisterium and put through days of intense interrogation that went into the realm of torture when he discovered the existence of Pym particles. I am not going to put my team in that position, Mr. Essex."

Nathaniel Essex nodded once, and said, "I will strive to be a part of this team and assist all that I can. My hands will be just as dirty as yours when all is said and done."

Sr. de Costa said, "She could roll in excrement and never be as dirty as you. I have my own people in Ushuaia who will report to me on what is happening. If there is any evidence that you are participating in unethical theology, I will have you removed. Compreendo?"

"Perfectly."

The flight to Ushuaia was on a cargo plane that was new maybe 30 years ago. The gear was still getting loaded into the hull when the shuttles arrived with all the researchers and interns. Peter was dragging his feet, having only slept a couple hours. It was even more exhausting knowing that he was going to be three to six months in Patagonia before he could see Wade again.

Under Janet's orders, Peter checked and double-checked that everyone was accounted for. Most of the interns looked like they had a little too much fun the night before. Then there was Johnny Storm who looked like he became a party favor the night before, with all the glitter in his hair and stuck to his skin. The lead researchers were suffering more from jetlag than too many Caipirinhas.

Peter then went to the truck that was unloading all the crates of supplies stamped with De Costa Internationale's logo, checking off each crate and double checking the ones already stowed on board. There was gear for going out on the antarctic ice, survival foods and equipment, emergency radios, two large generators, and extra parkas and blankets, along with all of their laboratory equipment.

The plane was not designed for passenger comfort, but rather cold weather and moving equipment. All of the seats were against the wall with only the smallest amount of cushioning. There were still enclosures for daemons, but they were not nearly as plush and comfortable. Peter figured that was just part of going on an adventure.

As the last of the crates came on, one of the workers approached him and said, "Falte me ainda, aracnídeo?"

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Portuguese," Peter said as he looked up from his paperwork. Then he had to work really hard to keep his calm composure because Wade was standing beside him, wearing brown coveralls and a hazard orange vest and earmuffs with safety glasses.

Wade put a finger to his lips and handed him a small package and whispered softly, "Open it when you're alone, sweetums."

Peter looked around and grabbed the front of Wade's coveralls and kissed him hard. There were tears in his eyes when he let Wade go. He said, "Thank you."

Wade smiled and said, "Anytime, aracnídeo."

Then he was gone, and when Peter stepped out of the cargo plane, hoping to get one more glimpse, Wade was not among the workers. He was no where to be seen. Peter walked back inside and found a niche between crates and opened the small package. Inside was another of Wade's untracable phones and a note that said, See you in a couple weeks. And by the way, I love you too.

Gwen was waggling in Peter's pocket, once again joyful at seeing Bob ever so briefly and reading the words that Wade wrote. She giggled and said, "What do you think he means?"

"I think he means he's coming to Ushuaia," Peter said, his face almost hurting from how much he smiled.

Chapter Text

There were a lot of things that Peter knew intellectually that he did not know first hand, but still believed to be true. He knew that there was no atmosphere in space. He knew that the oft called "dark side" of the moon received sunlight. He knew that potatoes made Vodka. And he absolutely was aware that the Southern Hemisphere has winter during the same time that the Northern Hemisphere has summer.

Still, when Peter saw the blanket of white that covered all of Isla Grande de Tierra Fuego, Peter finally understood the concept. The snow capped Marital Mountains north of Ushuaia gleamed pink in the waning light of day, sending another chill through him as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his heavy coat. There was snow everywhere, and more snow in the forecast.

Gwen was nestled into the fur lining of the coat's collar, tucked beneath Peter's chin so she could absorb his heat but also look around. She said, "I kind of miss summer."

Peter shivered. "Me too."

"It's going to be winter when we go home too," Gwen said as they walked down the ramp to where Janet and Curt were waiting.

"Don't remind me," Peter grumbled. Then he put on his best fake smile and said to Janet, "Any response from De Costa?"

"Not yet, but my service is pretty dodgy here." Janet smirked. "When I get back to New Amsterdam, I'm going to include a scathing report on the range and effectiveness of the Stark Phone in Ushuaia."

Peter smirked. "Tony should love that."

One of the interns ran up to Janet and said, "The pilot says that there's a storm coming in, and we need to unload now so he can leave."

Janet let out a frustrated huff and said, "Go ahead and get things moving, Chaplan. I'll try to get ahold of De Costa again."

"It's Kaplan. Billy Kaplan," Billy said with a frown.

Peter gestured for Billy to follow him back to the plane. Unlike everyone else, Billy was not wearing a heavy coat. Instead he wore a light jacket and his spotted owl daemon lighted calmly on his shoulder. Neither shivered or appeared in any way affected by the cold.

"Are you okay? I mean, it's freezing out here," Peter said.

Billy shrugged. "I don't really feel the cold."

"I wish I could do that," Peter said with a laugh.

"My mother was a witch and my father a shaman," Billy said. "I don't feel the cold."

Peter knew that many witches, especially the ones from the far north and far south, were unaffected by cold temperatures. He'd heard the story of Serafina Pekkala, who walked barefoot on glaciers, and Wade had mentioned something about his wife going across the ice of Antarctica.

There wasn't time to address the many questions that Peter had for Billy because there were many tasks to take care of immediately. Luckily, Ben Grimm was on top of the unloading. He and his alpaca daemon were moving pallets to the ramp, and Curt had the rest of the interns moving supplies onto the tarmac. Dr. Octavius proved how useful his exoskeleton could be by assisting in the heavy lifting.

When the plane was emptied and the snow was starting to fall, a diesel truck arrived emblazoned with the words Meridionalis Laboratorios on the side of the trailer and door. A minute later, a bus arrived bearing the same logo on the side.

"I certainly hope this is our ride," Essex said, a scowl on his face.

"For once we agree," Janet said as the door of the bus opened and a young woman stepped out dressed in a heavy off-white sweater and ski pants, followed by her beautiful ocelot daemon. A stream of other young people exited the bus, all of whom went to work opening the truck trailer and setting up the loading ramps.

The young woman walked up to Janet and brightly said, "¡Hola! Bienvenido a Ushuaia! I am Sofia Mantega, assistant to Señor Roberto de Costa. I am here to escort you to our facilities."

"Nice to meet you," Janet said with a smile. "We were starting to worry."

"¡Lo siento mucho!" Sofia gasped. "We just learned you were here."

Janet smiled. "It's fine. We haven't been waiting that long."

"But you are all cold, yes?" Sofia backed to the bus and gestured inside. "Please, tell your people to come inside and warm up. We'll leave the equipment to my people."

Peter looked at Janet, and she nodded. He said, "I'll let the interns know."

There was little time wasted, and everyone filed onto the bus. Most were shivering, some looked as if they were questioning their sanity in coming to this frigid place. Then there was Billy who just looked amused.

The trip to the facility was a short one through the very small city of Ushuaia. It was about half the size of Massena, and here and there were signs and murals that declared it "The City at the End of the World". There were signs about Beagle Channel tours and ski resorts up in the Martial Mountains. The Mountains dominated the view, towering high and white against the darkening sky.

Meridionalis Laboratorios was located in a small industrial area, protected by a high fence marked with a sign that said in Spanish, Portuguese, and English, "Meridionalis Personnel Only Beyond This Point."

From there, Peter and the rest of the team from New Amsterdam was caught up in a whirlwind of introductions, tours, security checks, and paperwork. Most of the paperwork was fairly standard. Safety agreements, laboratory rules and procedures, etc. Peter and Janet were the only ones to visit every single lab, which took nearly three hours because they talked with every department head. By the time they were finished, it was late and Peter was bordering on exhausted.

The rooms were very dorm-like. Painted cinder-block walls, small beds, a desk, small refrigerator, and a single window was the sum of amenities, but Peter wasn't going to complain. He was too tired to do that. He was too tired to do anything except for take off his shoes, turn off the light, and fall into bed.

He was just about asleep when he heard Gwen gasp, and say, "Oh my god, Peter. Look!"

Peter opened his eyes and looked toward the window where Gwen was sitting on the ledge, her head under the curtain. He pulled the curtain back, and for a moment the only thing he could do was stare at the bright colors of the night sky.

There were so many colors. Bright fuscia fading to a royal purple that floated down to a cascade of bright green. It filled the southern sky, covering the horizon above the buildings of Ushuaia, and it was so beautiful Peter had to remind himself to breathe.

After he was able to think again, Peter grabbed his phone with the intention of taking a picture. Instead he found himself dialing Wade's number. The merc answered on the first ring.

"Hey, babe," Wade said. "How's Ushuaia?"

"I'm looking at the Aurora Austrailis." Peter's eyes roamed over the ever changing sight in front of him, and said, "It's so beautiful, Wade. I've never seen anything like this. Not with my own eyes."

"Drink it in, baby boy," Wade said, and Peter could hear the smile in his voice.

"I wish you were here with me," Peter said as he scooped up Gwen and held her against his chest. "Are you really going to be here in a couple weeks?"

"Twelve days, to be exact," Wade said. "I meant the other thing too."

Peter's heart pounded a little harder. "Is it bad that I wish you were here right now?"

"I wish I was with you right now," Wade said. "Won't be too long."

"Just for a night?" Peter asked.

"Maybe a few weeks," Wade answered.

Gwen squeaked, "Seriously!"

"Yes. Seriously, Gwen," Wade said with a laugh. Then there was a grunt, and Wade mumbled something.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked with a chuckle.

"Just stubbed my toe." Wade sighed, and said, "I'm actually in the middle of something. Can I call you back in a little bit?"

Peter smiled. "Yeah. If I don't answer, it's because I'm sleeping."

"Well, just in case, sweet dreams Spidey."

"Goodnight, Wade." Peter hung up and flopped on the bed, leaving the window open to watch the aurora, smiling as he fell asleep.

Wade ended the call with a smile on his face. A smile that fell away as he turned towards the bloodied man zip-tied to the chair behind him. The man looked defiant, even with the blood flowing out of his broken nose.

"Okay, my little friend," Wade said as he picked up a pair of pliers from the small table. "Now we're going to talk."

Chapter Text

Wade ended the call with a smile on his face. A smile that fell away as he turned towards the bloodied man zip-tied to the chair behind him. The man looked defiant, even with the blood flowing out of his broken nose. The broken nose was more or less an accident, but Wade wasn't going to apologize. He'd caught him following Peter through the city, all the way from De Costa Internationale.

"Okay, my little friend," Wade said as he picked up a pair of pliers from the small table. "Now we're going to talk."

"I've got nothing to say to you," he snapped back, then spit a wad of blood and piece of chipped tooth at Wade, hitting the tip of the merc's boot.

Really, there was part of Wade that was impressed by the bastard. He took a beating like a champ, and no doubt he'd won his fair share of bar brawls. Then again, Wade wasn't a drunk in a bar. Still, he had spirit. Spirit that Wade intended to break.

Wade leaned forward and said, "You say that now, my friend. But you'll change your tune."

The man's eyes flicked down to the pliers. There were spots on the metal that could have been rust, but were more than likely blood. His eyes went to where his cicada daemon sat trapped inside a plastic box, just on the edge of a painful distance away from him. He looked back at Wade and said, "You don't scare me."

In a quick motion, Wade ripped the fingernail from his right middle-finger. The man let out a howl of pain, his eyes going wide from surprise, his daemon thrashing and buzzing inside the confines of its plastic prison.

Wade said, "I'm not going to scare you. I'm going to make you bleed."

The man shouted, "You haven't even asked me anything!"

"You still have nine more fingernails," Wade said calmly. "That means you have nine chances to tell me the truth before I move on to something a little harder to grow back. You get me?"

The man's bravado had completely vanished. He could take a punch, but Wade knew from experience that fingernails stung like a motherfucker. Before the guy looked cocky, kind of like he was holding all the cards. Now, Wade was pretty sure he was about to shit his pants; it made him feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside.

"What's your name?" Wade asked.

"Gerhardt!" he practically shrieked. "Kurt Gerhardt. I'm a banker!"

Wade gripped the man's right thumb, and asked, "Why you in Rio with no ID, Kurt? Get lost on your way to the vault?"

"I'm looking for a friend! That's all!" he shouted, his face now covered in sweat.

Wade gripped the tip of the thumbnail with the pliers. "Are you sure about that, Mr. Gerhardt? Cuz I don't think that's the whole truth." Wade started to pull.

"Don't!" Gerhardt shouted. "Please. I- I'm sick. Okay? I'm really sick. M-my doctor. She's here. She came here. She left and I need her. Please!"

"What's this doctor's name?" Wade demanded.

"Ella Whitby," he answered, tears starting to form in his eyes. "She's with some research group. She needs to come back to Crossmore. I need her!"

Wade let out a heavy sigh and tossed the pliers onto the metal table, the loud clatter making Gerhardt flinch. He snatched Bob off the table and walked to the door, and said, "I'm going to go make a phone call. And if I find out that you are full of shit, I'm going to come back here, cut off both your thumbs and jam them up your ass."

Outside, he grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialed Peter's number. He wasn't very surprised that it ended up going to voicemail; Peter sounded exhausted when they talked. So he dialed the next person who could provide the answers he needs, scrolling down to Tony Stark. He procured the number through some less than legal channels, but he figured he might need it at some point.

Tony answered, confusion in his voice, "Who the fuck is this?"

"Just your favorite test subject," Wade answered.

"Wa—Why are you calling me?" Tony demanded. "How do you even have this number? Only one person has this number. How do you have this number?"

"Calm down, Iron Man," Wade said. "I need to ask a question."

"I fucking hate you," was Tony's answer. After a pause, he said, "Whatever. What? What do you need to know?"

"You know the Ushuaia team?" Wade said.

Tony was again silent for a moment, thinking. "Yes?"

"They have someone with them named Ella Whitby?" Wade asked.

"Yes. Psychologist," Tony said. "Kind of eccentric, but her dad's done a lot in the field. Runs an institution for the criminally insane called Crossmore. Kind of a last stop before super-ultra-max prison."

Wade sighed, and said, "Well, I guess that is good news. At least for one person."

"I really don't want to know," Tony said. "Anything else?"

Wade smirked. "How's Bucky?"

"Sassy," Tony answered. "But good. He and Steve just flew back to Hispania Nova, and I am going to be in a hearing in two days. So there's that."

"Heard that might happen," Wade said.

"I'd like to know how you 'hear' so much," Tony grumbled. "Actually, I don't. But still. If you happen to hear anything that might keep me out of Bolvangar or happen to find pictures of Erik Lensherr in lacy pink panties getting spanked by a gorilla, let me know."

"I don't think those pictures will keep you out of Bolvangar, but I'll keep an eye out." The call ended, and Wade looked at Bob. "Looks like the guy in the other room needs his medication and probably a bandaid."

Bob gave a nod.

Shiklah was in the throne room of the Citadel when Wade got back to the underground city. She was just finishing a meeting with the leader of the Lupine sect, with Amjad acting as mediator between the werewolf and a minotaur, when Wade came through the large black doors. Evan was standing off to the side, dressed in the black apprentice cloak of the Gray Warriors.

"How your first day going, kid?" Wade asked.

Evan smiled. "Good. Training is pretty interesting."

Wade smiled at the pride the kid had on his face. "You Amjad's squire now?"

"Not really." Evan shrugged. "He just asked me to come with him today. We're picking up reports." He squinted at Wade's jacket, and said, "Is that blood?"

Wade nodded. "Yeah. Had a little bit of a run in with a stalker. Might need to make a trip north pretty soon to get the guy back where he belongs. Got him locked up in my dungeon in the city until I can get him back to Crossmore Hospital."

"Are you here for permission?" Evan asked with a cheeky smile.

Wade chuckled. "You're a little shit, you know that."

Evan laughed. "It's the environment I live in."

"Great. You've been corrupted by japes and skullduggery." Wade chuckled, and said, "You coming to dinner tonight or are you going to stay at the barracks?"

"I don't know," Evan answered with a shrug. "I guess it depends on what Amjad wants me to do."

Amjad was just finishing up his duties, and the Lupine and Minotaur were walking out of the throne room, both giving Wade a nod as they departed. Amjad slapped Wade on the shoulder, and said, "You don't look too well, brother. Are you sick?"

"I think my face just looks like a nightmare," Wade said with a laugh. "I'm fine as can be."

Amjad nodded, and gestured for Evan to follow him to an office on the right side of the throne. As soon as they were gone, Wade walked halfway to the throne and said, "I seek an audience with the queen."

"You may approach, good sir," Shiklah said as she slowly crossed her legs. "I assume you have news of the foreigners who entered our land yesterday."

Wade smirked. "Yes, your highness. And might I say, they are quite delightful."

Shiklah laughed, her throaty tone echoing around the room as she stood and met Wade at the bottom of the steps. She kissed his cheek, then frowned. "You do not look like you feel well."

Wade shrugged. "I feel fine. I think."

"I know that there is something different," she said. "Something else happened. You have blood on your jacket."

"Oh that," Wade said, looking down at the dark spots that flecked the left sleeve. "That was from…" He went silent, his brow furrowing into a look of confusion.

After a moment, Shiklah touched his forearm. "Wade?"

Wade looked up and gasped, stumbling backwards, raising his hands in defense when Shiklah again reached for him.

Shiklah raised her hands and took a step back as she said, "Wade, what is wrong? Tell me."

Wade could not speak. He was too terrified, and the terror was written all over his face as he stared at the looming monstrous figure that seemed to fill his vision. An image of leathery purple skin the color of a bruise, many red and gold eyes, horns, and flames that seethed from the creature's eyes, nose, and mouth. He reached for his weapons, but he had none. Why wouldn't he have weapons? He always had a weapon.

To his left he could see his Death, and rather than smug and calm, his Death looked sad. Why would his Death be sad?

But he couldn't dwell on that, because in front of him was a beast that looked ready to devour, a beast with the voice of an angel that shouted for guards. The guards who arrived were massive ogres with bulging tusks and fangs and claws the size of Bowie knives. Wade tried to get away, but he was surrounded.

Another voice cut through the cacophony of terror, and Wade looked to see a dark haired woman wearing flowing silk rushing towards him. She knelt down beside him and ordered everyone—the guards and the towering hell-beast—to get out of the room.

"Wade? Can you hear me, amorcito?" she said to him, her words curled by a Hispania Nova accent.

He was shaking, and he said, "What's happening? Where am I?"

"You are home, my love," she said. She smoothed a soft hand over his cheek, and she said, "I am going to open your shirt, okay? I promise I will not hurt you."

She unbuttoned the top few buttons, and saw that the rune-spells were gone except for a few places that she could see the black thread from the spell working its way out of his skin. She looked him in the eyes, a kind expression on her face as she said, "I want you to sleep now." She brushed her fingertips over his eyelids and whispered, "Dormu, amanto."

There was a rushing sensation, and Wade fell into a deep sleep.

Amjad and Evan came into the room, and Evan rushed over to Wade's side and asked, "What happened?"

"His body is rejecting the spell," Carmelita said as she finished opening Wade's shirt. "This thread in his skin is his memories. We are lucky to catch it before it is completely gone."

"What would happen?" Evan asked, his eyes widened by fear.

"He would lose all of his memories from the last 8 years," Carmelita said shakily. She gripped Evan's arm and said, "Get Mamá and Alfreida. Go now."

Evan sprinted out of the throne room, and Shiklah said, "I will take Eleanor out of the Citadel. She must not see him like this."

Carmelita kissed the queen, and said, "Thank you, querida. I will find you when we have finished."

Shiklah left, and a few minutes later Señora Camacho and Blind Alfreida came into the throne room. Alfrieda went to work removing Wade's jacket and shirts while Carmelita started drawing the runes and sigils of the ritual circle on the floor. Señora Camacho started her chant, summoning all the powers of the Universe that she could command, turning her skin luminous and her countenance youthful.

Carmelita sent Arkaitz to get Bob, who was flying erratically through the tunnels of the Citadel. It took the crow daemon a great deal of patience and struggle to restrain the parrot. Upon returning to the throne room, Bob quickly flew to land on Wade's stomach. He shook out his feathers and started pacing, pulling at the feathers on his chest until Jacques, Blind Alfreida's weasel daemon, subdued him.

The three witches started chanting as they started marking Wade's skin in blood-red runes, the throne room seeming to dim except for the air around where they worked. The air became thick and humid as they sewed black thread made from the silk of Wandering Spiders, imbued with Señora Camacho's proprietary blend of reagents designed to capture memory and calm the mind. The thread was wound through the runes under the skin, Wade's healing factor trying to reject the foreign substance. They kept sewing and chanting until Wade's skin had encased the thread completely, no longer rejecting it, but holding it inside a thick wall of scar tissue.

Hours had passed by the time Wade was taken to the bedroom, and the three witches were exhausted from the work. Alfrieda offered to stay with him while Carmelita and Señora Camacho went to find Shiklah and Eleanor, the mother and daughter promising to come back with food.

They hadn't been gone more than a minute before Wade woke with a sharp gasp. Blind Alfreida put a hand on his chest, and said, "You're okay, hotshot. Just lay back down."

Wade looked at her and did as he was told. "It happened again, didn't it."

Alfrieda nodded. "Yeah, and before you ask, no. Ellie didn't see you."

"Thank god," Wade sighed as he relaxed into the pillow.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Alfreida asked as she gently stroked the top of Jacques's head.

"I was in Rio with Peter," he said softly.

Alfreida raised an eyebrow. "He the one Shiklah and Carm can't shut up about? Your little brilliant boy toy."

Wade gave her a frown as Bob crawled under his hand. He gently smoothed Bob's ruffled feathers and softly answered, "Yes."

She smiled and said, "It's good to see you happy, Wade."

"It's only been a year this time," Wade said.

"I know." Alfreida sighed, and said, "I'll get the old ladies together, and we'll see if we can find a more powerful spell. Something permanent. We'll fix it."

"My body will reject it eventually," Wade said. "Unless you can figure out how to bottle up my memories, someday they'll be gone and I'll go right back to The World like the trained monkey I am." He growled, "I'm just a goddamn puppet, fucking literally on a string."

"We'll fix it, Wade," Alfrieda repeated.

Wade sighed and closed his eyes. Then he remembered and gasped, "Shit! I left him zip tied in the dungeon!"

"Who?" Alfreida gasped. "Peter?"

He pushed up out of bed, explaining as he dressed, "No. He was this dude following Peter's group, but he's an escapee from a psych ward, and holy shit this is bad."

"It's okay, Wade," Carmelita said from the door.

Wade froze with his head halfway through the hole of his shirt. "What do you mean?"

"We took care of him," Carm said as she walked to him and tugged his shirt down into place. She kissed his jaw and said, "Evan told us about your conversation. Amjad and Baqir have already taken care of him. Mr. Gerhardt will be on his way back to Crossmore when the next plane leaves."

Wade nodded, then covered his face with both hands as he sank down onto the edge of the bed. His voice was muffled as he said, "I'm so sorry, babe."

"It is not your fault, amorcito," Carmelita said as she sat beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder. Arkaitz put a big black wing over Bob, nibbling at Bob's head and doing his best to be of comfort. "You have been remembering more and more of your past. Your mind is healing. Someday the Shadow King will no longer have a hold on you."

Wade's hands fell down into his lap and he whispered, "I hope you're right."

Carmelita stayed with Wade until he again fell asleep, then quietly left the room to go check on Eleanor, who was sleeping beside Señora Camacho in her room. Shiklah was not to be found in the family quarters, nor was she in the throne room.

Shiklah was down in the deepest part of the Citadel, in a place known as the Mage's Garden sitting under the black boughs of the Sarkoonian tree. Carmelita never liked going into this place; it smelled of blood and rot, and the creatures who called it home were ghastly. The blackness was so complete, it swallowed light like a hungry beast. Even the small lamp that Carmelita carried seemed to grow dim as she ventured down the slick stone path to where Shiklah sat.

"Wade is awake and his memories are intact," Carmelita said as she carefully sat on the moist bench. "You should be with him."

"I grew this tree from a seed I gathered the day that my world ended," Shiklah said, as if she hadn't heard Carmelita's words at all. There was a distant sound of howling and scratching, and Carmelita scooted a little closer. "This tree was my heart, grown from the living heart of the one I loved. I could not save him, for he was far away from me when the Incursion struck. But I could get his heart."

Carmelita shivered. Shiklah told her about the Incursion that shattered the old world. About the ages of war that followed.

"This time will be different," Shiklah said. "I made so many mistakes before. I was young and foolish, full of pride and silly ideas of what it meant to be a queen. I was reckless. I threw away every asset that fell into my lap. But not this time. This time, everything is coming together. Every thing will be different this time."

"What do you mean, querida?" Carmelita asked, her heart pounding.

"The most powerful being to ever live sleeps in my city," Shiklah said softly. "Death is here as well. I believe that Pestilence will soon reveal himself for what he is. And I know deep down that I am the Famine of the world." She smiled, her fanged teeth protruding a little more than normal. "And I have no doubt that War is coming."

Carmelita shook her head. "I don't understand?"

Shiklah cupped her cheek and kissed her lips softly, then swept a sweat-damp curl behind Carmelita's ear. "It is nothing that you need to worry about, my love. Just know that you are safe beside me. Our family is safe." Then her tone darkened, her voice taking on an otherworldly edge as she said, "It is the Shadow King who is not safe. It is he who I will destroy first in this war, and I will bathe in his blood and cast his remains to be devoured by the Sarkoonian."

There were tears streaming down Carmelita's face. "You are frightening me, Shiklah."

Shiklah sighed, and said, "Forgive me, my love. Sometimes I can be quite dark."

"It is this place," Carmelita said. "Please, let's leave."

"Go ahead," Shiklah said as she stood. "I must tend my garden."

Chapter Text

Adjusting to the new lab took a little bit of time. Peter wasn't used to sharing space, nor was he used to having interns come to him with issues. Then there was the language barrier between him and the other scientists working at Meridionalis Laboratories. Sofia Mantega could help when there were issues, but most of the time Peter had to rely on a translation app he downloaded, and it wasn't really doing the trick. Especially since there were so many scientists hailing from different areas of the continent. Then there was the fact that a lot of the equipment had never been used and needed to be calibrated.

Then there was Dr. Essex, who seemed to be exactly everywhere he wasn't supposed to be. When Peter was attempting to retrofit the observatory for Dust-light capture, Essex decided to show up in the Observatory to discuss his concerns over the lack of a particular type of flask in the biology room. Peter hoped that telling him that there would be more on the next shipment from Rio would make Essex go away. Rather, he launched into a longer explanation over why this particular kind of flask is vital to his branch of research.

Peter wanted to pound his head into the wall.

Then there was the matter of the interns, many of whom were logging complaints about the lack of plentiful hot water in the bathrooms, and honestly Peter hoped that half of them would leave on the next flight. A next flight that had so far been delayed a week due to a massive weather system that moved into the Pacific. According to the resident meteorologist Sofia Mantega, the system was going to be there for perhaps another week. Maybe longer. This was terrible news for the researches who needed to go to ice shelf in order to conduct their experiments and observations.

Peter and Janet were already working on applications to get an extension on their time, despite the fact that the optimal time for the sub-zero work was rapidly passing. They were both pissed that the Magisterium took so long to approve their travel, and even more irked that the delay was causing them to not get anything done.

But most stressful, at least for Peter, was a lack of communication with a certain mercenary. The calls stopped. The texts stopped, except for one word responses, or worse, just an emoji. Then, not even that much. For what felt like a year (but had in actuality only been six days), Wade had not responded to any of his messages at all. Nothing.

That was when the jealousy started, and Peter hated it. He hated the feeling that Wade had changed his mind about their relationship. He hated being envious of Shiklah and Carmelita for having so much of his time. And more than anything, he hated the feeling that Wade was too nice to tell him that he really wanted to end their connection. Just a couple days before Wade said he was coming to Ushuaia, Peter could feel something inside starting to break.

Gwen, on the other hand, was relentlessly optimistic that Wade was not going to abandon them. She insisted repeatedly that Wade felt something very strong for them, so strong it wasn't going to just go away. She tried her best to convince Peter of this, but he couldn't see past the jealousy. Even if Wade showed up, Peter wasn't sure how he would feel. As it was, he felt angry and hurt, and it was coming out in bursts that left a few interns afraid to enter his office.

He practically broke down into tears when Janet came to him and recommended he take the weekend off. Her exact words were, "You have become an abomination; please take the weekend off before I commit murder."

Peter didn't fight her or claim he didn't need the break. He needed it. Badly.

With Gwen tucked into the inner pocket of his coat, Peter took a cab to the waterfront. There were several shops and shopping centers to be found along the Av. San Martin. With the break in the weather, many were out and about, and Peter felt a little more relaxed just being in the open air and away from work.

He ate lunch at a small cafe and walked around the mall for a while. The familiar shops and brands were a testament to the thriving tourist industry in the area. For a while he entertained the idea of taking one of the Beagle Channel trips, but the sea was pretty rough due to the weather, so he contented himself to sit in a coffee shop and admire the view.

"Everything is going to be fine," Gwen said, a little puff of whipped cream sticking to her nose after she had a sip of his cappuccino. "Maybe he had some business to take care of. Something he couldn't tell us about."

Peter nodded. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Sometimes he needed to remind himself that he didn't know everything about Wade, even if it felt like they'd known each other for years. There were large chunks of information missing from his knowledge base for the merc. He hoped he could fill in those blanks some day. He hoped he would see him soon.

Then someone was sitting across from him in the booth. A man wearing a black cassock, an embroidered black "M" on the lapel. Even if he missed that detail, Peter would know that this man was with the Magisterium from the look he had in his eyes. Or his eye, rather. The right eye was the color of the antarctic ice; the other glowed yellow under a scarred brow. His gloved hands were folded on the edge of the table. He was a massive man. Broad shoulders, tall. Militaristic in the way he held himself.

Peter's mind supplied the word Inquisitor.

"Can I help you?" he said, keeping his voice steady and calm. No reason to panic just yet.

"It would be in your best interest to help me," was the Inquisitor's answer. Peter looked around the crowded cafe, but before he could devise some kind of escape route, he said, "You might as well settle in, Mr. Parker. They don't even know we're here."

Peter's jaw set. "Who are you?"

"My name is Nathan Summers," he answered, his glowing eye narrowing slightly. "I know this is somewhat of an unexpected meeting, but I am not here to arrest or detain you. Just need to ask you a few questions about your work at the Stark Institute."

"All of my work was submitted to the review board," Peter said, proud of the steady tone of his voice in comparison to the near meltdown happening inside of him. He could only hope that whoever this man was, he wasn't an empath.

Summers smirked and said, "You don't need to be nervous, but yes. I am an empath."

Fuck. Peter cleared his throat. "Okay. Then if you are an Inquisitor, why don't you just scan my mind and get this over with?"

"To be completely honest, that was my original plan." He folded his hands on the table, his human ice blue eye and set of his jaw telling Peter that he was absolutely serious. "But I prefer to not be so medieval in my practices."

Peter took a careful sip of his coffee, then said, "Let's get this over with. What do you want to know?"

"Tell me everything you know about a boy named Evan."

Peter's jaw tensed. If there was one thing that Peter knew about dealing with empaths, it was that the only way to keep anything from them was to keep your mind occupied. From the moment Nathan Summers revealed he was an empath, Peter started running data through his mind, a steady stream of chemical equations and Dust observations and number sequences.

"It is best that you just tell me what you know," Summers said. "The boy has been missing for months, and unless you want to be charged as an accessory to kidnapping, you need to either bring your memory of the boy into your consciousness, or you need to start talking."

"Evan was a guest scholar from New France," Peter finally answered. "He was there with a guardian named André Hayden to do research into arc reactor technology for the École Polytechnique de Montréal." The official story rolled off of Peter's tongue with just the right amount of confusion and apprehension. It was a good lie. He asked, "I don't understand how he could have been kidnapped?"

Summers exhaled sharply, and shifted in his seat. "If you expect me to believe you, you should put more truth with your lies."

Peter knew he was putting himself into danger, but he could not under any circumstances put Evan in jeopardy. "I can't tell you what I don't know, Mr. Summers. I only know that he was a guest scholar."

"There are consequences to lying to me," Summers said, his tone calm and even, though his eyes were far more menacing. The left glowed brighter; the right smouldered with rage. "I am trying to prevent trouble, Mr. Parker. For you and for this boy. Now tell me what you know."

"Okay," Peter said. He sighed heavily and said, "I know that the approximate speed of light is twelve million miles a minute. I know that strawberries are the only fruit with seeds on the outside. If you mix ammonia and bleach, it's bad."

"Do you want to be interrogated?" Summers asked.

Peter leaned over the table, mimicking Summer's posture with his hands folded. He asked, "I don't know. Will there be bondage? Because my safeword is Spiderweb."

"I've heard about you, you know." The corner of his mouth twitched. "I know about your sarcasm and jokes. I know about your tendency to use humor to cover your nerves."

"Did you read that in my file, big boy?" Peter asked.

"No." Summers smiled then and took a sip of his coffee. Then said, "I learned it from a mutual friend. Told me all about you."

Peter laughed. "Which friend?"

"Wade Wilson."

The words had the desired effect. Peter stopped calculating pi. He stopped thinking about chemical equations. He stopped thinking. He was pretty sure his heart stopped beating. Wade. Wade, who hadn't called in days. Wade, who was supposed to be in Ushuaia. Wade, who Peter knew he loved more than he ever realized because he was pretty sure he was starting to die inside from an ache that couldn't stop.

But with that ache came anger. A fury that Peter never knew he was capable of feeling. His heart was suddenly pounding. His hands balled into fists. His jaw clenched so tight it ached, and then he swung a fist, connecting solidly with the very solid jaw of Nathan Summers.

The cafe went silent. Peter was pretty sure he broke a couple knuckles. He had only a moment to think about this fact before he felt a strange sensation like invisible hands lifting him and forcing out of the booth. Worse, he felt consciousness slipping away. Then there was cold and wind, and his head was so fuzzy and his vision swimming. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to scream, but he could do nothing under the power of the empath.

Then he saw a big black crow holding Gwen in its claws. Arkaitz. It was Arkaitz!

Peter's head cleared to see a group of witches, most of them quite young, except for two who stood in front of the group. One of them was a stranger; the other was Carmelita. Peter would have sobbed for joy if not for his body still being clenched by the telekinetic hands.

There was a discussion happening, a discussion that resulted in Peter being released from his invisible prison. A moment later, the man with a glowing eye, Nathan Summers, disappeared in a flash of light.

Carmelita was beside him then. She was speaking rapidly to an older woman who was obviously a much older version of her. Mother, Peter thought as the two continued to talk. Then he was again moving, but this time he was being carried on their cloud willow branches. He wanted to say thank you or beg to know if they knew what happened to Wade.

But he couldn't hold onto consciousness anymore, and he passed out.

Peter woke with a start, hands immediately cupping Gwen, a muted scream in the back of his throat. At first, he didn't know where he was. He was certain that something had woke him. There was the memory of movement in the air, like something had just been right beside him and left suddenly. The room was dark, but for a candle burning in the opposite corner of the room, casting everything in deep shadows that danced with the flicker of the flame. Something had moved in the room, he was certain. He held Gwen against his racing heart, and he stood, wincing when his bare feet hit a cold stone floor.

"Do you know where we are?" Peter asked softly.

"I passed out when you did," Gwen answered.

A plush chair was by the bed, and Peter touched the back of it and could feel warmth. Someone was most certainly just in this room. Someone had changed his clothes. Someone had also bandaged his hand, which was still throbbing from connecting to the metal side of the Inquisitor's jaw.

The Inquisitor! Peter's heart rate again spiked. The Magisterium was in Ushuaia. If he'd been cornered, maybe Janet had too. Maybe his entire team was locked away just like him.

Peter looked around the room, trying to find something he could use as a weapon, but all he saw was a stack of clothes and his coat. No shoes, though. He looked down at himself and realized he was wearing a set of light blue old man pajamas with dark blue trim around the collar. The name Emmanuel was stitched into the pocket.

Logically, he knew that if he was being held captive by the Magisterium, they would not give him comfortable (silk?) pajamas, nor would they neatly fold his clothes. And more than likely, they wouldn't leave his cell door open. Also, a cell would probably have metal bars. This was no cell. It was a room.

A room with a door that was slightly ajar. He could see a thin line of gray light coming in from the hallway. Cautiously, he went towards that point of light, and with a hand that trembled from cold and fear, Peter opened it slightly.

The light in the hallway was coming from a room a few doors down and on the opposite side. Over the throb of his heart, he could hear voices, but they were too soft to understand. Peter carefully stepped out in the hall, eyes sweeping up and down, looking for any kind of exit, and seeing that the only route out of the hallway was past the open door.

He took a shaking breath and started towards the stairs, keeping his footfalls silent as he approached the open door. He paused at the edge of the light, peeking into the room, where he could hear a little girl's voice speaking in Portuguese.

"O pequeno coelho pulou de alegria," she said.

A strangely familiar male voice said, "Muito bem. Agora vá dormir."

Peter stepped closer, looking around the door to see Wade tucking in a small, curly haired girl into a bed topped with layers of blankets. She was giggling and speaking to him in a sleepy tone. Peter couldn't understand anything she was saying, except for Papai. Bob was there too, perched on the end of the girl's bed, nudging a small hummingbird from the same perch. The bird hovered down.

Then the girl pointed and said, "Seu amigo está acordado."

Wade turned and said, "I thought I heard something."

"I…" was the only thing Peter managed to say because he didn't know what to say.

The girl sat up and said, "My papa has been worried about you."

"Very worried," Wade added. Then he looked back at the girl, who Peter realized was his daughter Ellie, and said, "Go to sleep, princess. You can talk to Peter in the morning."

Ellie let out a long-suffering sigh and flopped back on the pillow. Wade again tucked her in and kissed her forehead, and said, "Goodnight."

Wade turned down the oil lamp, and walked out the door, guiding Peter with a hand at his waist. As soon as the door was closed, Wade wrapped his arms around Peter. Peter's arms naturally fell into place, squeezing Wade even as the tears started to flow. There was so much Peter wanted to ask and needed to know, but all of that could wait because Wade was scooping him up and carrying him back to the bedroom.

Once they were nestled back under the warm blankets and Peter had once again regained his ability to speak, he asked, "Where are we?"

"Still in Ushuaia," Wade answered softly. "You've only been asleep a few hours. I planned to be here when you woke, but Ellie wanted a bedtime story."

Peter gripped Wade's shirt, and asked, "Did that guy hurt you?"

"Hurt me?" Wade's brow scrunched, studying Peter's face. "No. I would have hurt him pretty badly had I been there."

"He said…" Peter sat up a little. "He said you told him about me? And you… I haven't…" Peter could feel the emotion creeping up. "Where have you been?"

"I'll explain everything in the morning, okay?" Wade said. It wasn't an avoidance. Peter knew that they would talk. He would get answers. But he also knew that what he wanted more than anything was what Wade offered next. "Let me hold you a while first. Then we can talk all you want."

Peter again lay his head against Wade's chest. Bob had Gwen nestled under his wing, his body curled around her protectively. There was a strong feeling of peace coming to him from his daemon, and that peace lulled him back into sleep. This time, he actually rested.