"Oh my God, Spiderman," Wade flung himself into Peter's (thankfully) open window of his high-rise apartment. "I get your shtick and all, but do you have to live so fucking high off the ground?"

Deadpool laying crumpled in his living room wasn't anything new to Peter but he was usually accompanied by a pool of blood and a shower of gunfire; the only thing he brought with him this time was labored breathing.

"So I guess it's true, you're a regular human again." Peter knelt down next to him and fought the urge to unmask him and see if the rumors were right about his healed body. "You do know everyone and their mother is out to kill you right now and you just brought all that to my doorstep?"

"Window," Wade corrected.

"What you want?"

Peter expected an outlandish tale that would have him spending at least the next 48 hours swinging through the city in spandex but Wade being predictable with less likely than Wade dying so he unpredictably pulled off his mask with a quick jerk to give Peter a good look at his new, gorgeous face. The suddenness and unfamiliarity of it made Peter pull back, institutionally ready to abandon his calm demeanor and fight the unknown.

"That bad, huh?" Wade joked but his voice was tense.

"I'm just jealous."

Wade genuinely smiled in Peter's body tensed for a completely different reason.

"I know you're a hairless twink, but I can't trust anyone else with a knife to my throat; will you help me shave?"

"Are you serious?"

He was serious.

Deadpool had gotten Peter into some bizarre situations but nothing that came to mind could compared to having the current most wanted man in the world fidgeting on his toilet seat while he explained to him the difference between a Lady BiC and a hunting knife.

"When I showed the woman at Rite Aid what I usually use she suggested I try these ones with the moisturizing strips." Wade held the Lady BiC as if it was a shank. "She also said if I'm going to use something on my face that I cut into animals with that I should wash it first or I can go septic. Is that right? Is that a thing?" Peter's expression must've been answer enough because then he added, "I'm too precious for this world, aren't I?"

"No one ever taught you had to shave? Not even your dad?"

"My dad took a razor to me a few times but we never got around to that lesson."

"That's not funny."

"Give it a while; it took me a few years to find humor in it myself."

Peter didn't dignify that with a response and instead swept what Wade had bought off the counter and into the trashcan, preferring his personal supplies, and set to doing this job himself. Surprisingly, Wade didn't argue or try to goad him into arguing himself, just sat quietly and let Peter administered to him.

Normally such passivity would have sent off alarm bells in Peter's head but it was easy to deduce what was keeping his friend occupied; Wade's eyes all but strobed as he continually glanced at himself in mirror. The moment he made eye contact with himself he would look away as if afraid at what he saw, but then back again, more afraid that he had seen incorrectly.

"I'm all done," Peter said, please to be interrupting Wade's depressing game of peekaboo.

"Good. Now you'll just have to do this every morning."

Peter had the perfect comeback but he was interrupted when a bomb went off outside the bathroom door. Both he and Wade were on their feet the moment they hit the floor and it belatedly occurred to Peter how unprepared Wade had become to protecting himself.

"Don't die!" Peter yelled over the ringing in his ears.

Wade's full throttle race to the door didn't halt. "Okay, thanks. You too!