Chapter Text
Police murdering people of color. President being horrible. Net neutrality. Sexual abuse.
“Okay,” Wade said, setting his phone down on the bed, “what’s your one?”
“Honestly,” Peter sighed, fingers tapping quickly on his laptop as he posted news articles to their Antifa group’s page, “I am most pissed off that our Mayor continues to do nothing about the housing crisis.”
“Well,” Wade grinned, pulling the bed covers up higher on Peter’s body, “we’re already doing something about that – how convenient.”
Peter smiled, even though the reminder sent a rush of nerves through him. “What’s your one?”
Wade’s pretty eyes darkened as he looked back at his phone. “The earthquake in Indonesia a couple months ago that no one in our government noticed because they were too busy shielding a rapist? The death toll is still rising.”
“Well, hey,” Peter said, setting his laptop aside so that he could snuggle into his husband’s chest, “we can do something about that, too. Let’s talk to Emma about a fundraiser.”
“But, Peter, we already won the midterms,” Wade said, sarcastically. “Why do I, a white liberal, need to worry about anything else?”
“It’s the holidays,” Peter reminded, kissing him on the nose. “White people are throwing money everywhere.”
“Is it too late to add it to our lists of places to donate money instead of giving us more shit we don’t need?” Wade asked.
“Nope,” Peter said, sitting up and grabbing his laptop again. Wade curled around his back like a big, warm, human space-heater as Peter updated their social media.
“Last day of school,” Wade reminded, nibbling his ear.
Peter hummed and turned his head to catch Wade’s lips. It wasn’t as if either of them got to take a real break from their multiple jobs, but Brooklyn Visions going on holiday break did mean a few more free hours for a couple of weeks.
*~*~*
Later that morning as he watched Emma talk to his little student group, Peter thought about how they had grown over a few months. At first it had just been Kamala, Miles, Sam, and usually Bobby and two or three other “regulars.” Now he was looking at a group of twenty kids listening raptly as Emma answered their questions about organizing social action. Peter realized he knew all of their names because they all showed up every week these days.
“This one was really good,” Sam informed him once the meeting was over. “But I still think my favorite was when your aunt came and talked to us about sex.”
“Please don’t describe it that way, Sam,” Peter sighed. He had to admit, though, that May’s visit to talk to the kids about safe queer sex had been fantastic. He hadn’t even had to leave the room for it, which he’d assumed he’d need to do.
“What a great group,” Emma complimented once the kids had all left. “I think this is really where we win the fight, you know? They’re so brave and curious, not jaded yet.”
Peter tried to be cool, as Emma was still someone he felt a need to impress even though he and Wade continued to regularly caused disruptions in her meetings. Her encouraging words made him feel like a balloon was expanding in his chest. Maybe it was the holidays, maybe he was just being an overly optimistic white liberal, but he couldn’t help feeling like things were maybe not so horribly shitty anymore, or maybe they were getting to be less shitty.
“Speaking of being jaded,” he said as he walked Emma to the parking lot, “remember that earthquake in Indonesia a few months back?”
*~*~*
“You are a natural with that thing.”
The sultry voice over Peter’s shoulder startled him so badly that he hit the padded table much harder than he intended. He heard the wood crack and felt the giant paddle he was holding split at the base.
“It’s okay,” Shiklah laughed at his horrified apologies. “This one’s getting on in years, not your fault. Though you are looking more filled out these days, if I may say so.”
Peter felt himself blush – Wade had been teaching him how to lift weights without dislocating his bones, and now he had destroyed a perfectly good paddle.
“What if that had happened on someone’s ass?” he asked, trying to fit the pieces back together.
“It would not be the first time,” Shiklah comforted, taking the broken pieces from him. That was too distressing an image for Peter to even process, so he distracted himself by helping her clean up as the rest of the class made their way out.
“This has been really fun,” Peter said, hoping that wasn’t too awkward a thing to say to his husband’s ex-domme. “I mean, you know, aside from when I broke your equipment.”
“Well, we’re starting floggers in January,” she said, hanging the last of the paddles on the wall (and oh, the one he’d just broken was not the biggest one, what a relief). “They’re much harder to break.”
Peter’s heart sank. They’d barely been able to afford for him to take Shiklah’s Impact 101 class, so it was very unlikely that he’d get to continue his education.
But he told her he’d sign up if it squared with his work schedule as the two of them emerged from the back room and into Sister Margaret’s, which was packed wall to wall. Holly hung in giant swaths from every rafter and sat on every table, and so many things were on fire that Peter was sure it had to be illegal. No one cared – everyone in the place was giddy with anticipation for the Annual Pagan Solstice Drag Benefit.
“I have it on good authority that your hubs is the main draw,” Shiklah informed him with a wink.
Peter laughed as they made their way to the bar, where Weasel was setting shots on fire while loudly proclaiming that “Solstice is the Reason for the Season.” Were all of these people mostly here to see Wade’s performance? If so, they were not going to be disappointed – Peter had seen dress rehearsal.
*~*~*
They had gotten married in October. They hadn’t told anyone, just gone to the courthouse and signed papers. The clerk who helped them was very professional, though she clearly thought they were a bit weird. Peter couldn’t blame her – Wade scowled through the process like he was expecting someone to try to stop them, and Peter sweated profusely while giggling at inappropriate moments. They had gone home after and ordered pizza, which was a rare treat.
They weren’t giving in to capitalism or heteronormative culture, Peter had insisted to Wade. They were gaming the system. What was the point of Peter’s having the option to put a spouse on his fancy Stark Tech health insurance if not to take care of Wade? It wasn’t like he could put May on his policy (which sent Wade into a giant rant about heteronormative culture). Peter reminded Wade that May wasn’t in remission from cancer. That shut him up pretty fast, and after a few hours of skulking around the apartment, Wade agreed that gaming the system together would be a pretty romantic move.
As Peter watched his husband take the tiny stage wearing the gorgeous Judy-inspired dress that he’d helped him make, he had to agree – being married was pretty romantic.
He was not sure how Wade maintained the focus to perfectly lip-sync “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” while most of the audience clamored to all throw tips at him at once. Peter very much wanted to slide a bill under his bra strap like he’d seen people do to the other performers so far (Weasel had happily allowed his g-string to be stuffed full) but everyone was being very respectful of Wade, and he didn’t want to break the mood. Wade looked absolutely beautiful – no wig, just perfect makeup, the dress, and fierce pumps.
“You gave me a great deal of our money,” Wade laughed as Peter helped him get changed in the small dressing room.
“It’s all going to the Youth Home,” Peter reminded. He took advantage of the fact that Wade was seated, wiping his makeup off, and hooked his chin over the much taller man’s shoulder.
“I cannot wait,” Peter whispered into Wade’s ear, “to fuck you in that dress.”
He watched in the mirror as Wade’s eyes went glassy. Peter grinned and kissed him on the neck. They spent enough time at the after party to not be rude, but no one seemed surprised that they were making an early exit.
*~*~*
“Daddy, please –“
Peter slowly rocked his hips as Wade’s fingers dug into his thighs. He could feel Wade’s cock pulsing inside of him, Wade’s pelvis straining underneath him, wanting so badly to be allowed to let go but instead holding perfectly still like the very good boy he was.
“What do you need, baby?” Peter asked, palms pressing into Wade’s chest.
Wade was a mess, splayed out on their bed, dress rucked up across his muscled stomach, face twisted with need, traces of makeup around his gorgeous blue eyes.
“Please let me, Daddy,” Wade whined, his voice small and helpless.
Peter wanted so badly to give in to him, but he knew from experience that they weren’t quite there yet, not quite at either of their limits.
“I need to hear you say it, baby,” Peter said. “What do you want me to let you do?”
Wade groaned. “Please, please let me fuck you, Daddy, I need it--”
“Okay, sweetheart,” Peter relented, leaning forward, “but don’t come until I say.”
Wade’s eyes went wide, but he met Peter’s gaze and nodded, and Peter felt the thrill that always went through him when his big man was obedient. He thought Wade would start slow, but instead strong hands grabbed his hips and held him in place as Wade started fucking up into him, hard and fast.
Peter’s fingers grasped at his husband’s forearms as his whole body was jolted – he heard himself making little cries and gasps, and he didn’t know what his face looked like, but he’d almost started not to care about that anymore. He watched Wade’s face, feeling Wade’s hips pistoning, Wade’s thick cock filling him up over and over again, wishing he could enjoy the sensation of each thrust individually but not wanting him to slow down.
Wade went suddenly still, gripping Peter’s waist. Peter whimpered in protest before he remembered why his good boy had stopped abruptly. He looked at Wade’s face, impossibly sexy even though it was contorted with effort.
“Good job, baby,” Peter breathed, making himself slowly rock his hips, “my sweet baby –“
Wade let out a pitiful, frustrated moan, thrusting shallowly into Peter’s body. The delicious burn of Wade inside of him, Wade splitting him open was more than Peter could take. He cupped Wade’s face with his hand, and Wade closed his eyes and turned toward the contact, kissing his palm.
“Come for me, honey.”
Wade’s eyes opened with an animalistic gleam. He fucked Peter so brutally that he felt it in his teeth, but Peter was still devastated when Wade went rigid inside of him again, this time shaking with release. He sighed when Wade gently slipped out of him.
“Can I please clean you up, Daddy?” his baby asked with a lopsided grin, and how could Peter resist such a polite request?
He let Wade guide him down onto the mattress, lifted up to let Wade scoot a couple of pillows beneath his hips, and tried not to pass out from arousal as Wade got situated behind him. This was Peter’s favorite. Okay, he had a lot of favorites, but this was one of them.
He held out as long as he could with Wade’s sweet lips and tongue getting all of the come off of his thighs and ass. When Wade’s rough fingers parted his cheeks and Wade’s tongue started lapping at his sore, stretched out hole, pushing into him, Peter had to get up to his knees. He took his own cock in his hand, supporting himself on his other elbow, and pumped for all he was worth. He thought he felt Wade laugh as he struggled to keep fucking Peter with his tongue, holding his hips as best he could. Peter came so hard he nearly cried.
Wade had pulled him down next to him and cuddled him to his chest when Peter finally opened his eyes. “We messed up your pretty dress!” he mourned, touching the delicate material of the skirt that was spattered with come.
“It’s okay, little Daddy,” Wade laughed, quietly, “it’ll wash out.”
Wade tried to coax him to stay snuggled together, but Peter insisted on getting up, made Wade take off his lovely new dress, and did his best to spot-wash it before hanging it to dry over their shower rod. When he came back to bed, Wade had stripped the gross sheets and put their spare set on the mattress.
“Fuckin’ heater,” Wade groused as he bundled Peter back under their bed covers.
“’S okay,” Peter said, trying not to let his teeth chatter, “it just decides not to work sometimes.”
They had moved into Peter’s tiny apartment together. Wade and Doreen and Gabby’s rent had gone up, and the ladies had moved in with Gabby’s mom, who Peter had met and thought was awesome. Wade had insisted on buying an actual bed, but that was the only upgrade they had made.
“I could get us a better place,” Wade said, low voice rumbling in his chest against Peter’s ear.
“We’ll get a space heater,” Peter said. “I love this place, it’s our place.”
Wade was quiet for a moment. “I could do one job,” he then said, tentatively, “and buy a new heating system for this whole building. Everybody would be warm.”
Peter lifted his head to look at his husband. Wade didn’t look angry or frustrated, just – wistful, kind of sad. “I could send you to grad school,” he said, fingers stroking through Peter’s hair. “I wish you’d let me.”
Peter laid a kiss in the middle of Wade’s chest, his lips brushing the ridged scars there. “I’ll get to grad school,” he said. “I promise. I’ll start applying after New Year’s. Okay?”
Wade looked like he wanted to say a great deal more, but he sighed instead. They’d had this talk. They were very poor, even with Peter’s classy job, even though Wade had pretty easily landed a job as a short-order cook. They had what they needed, but it was still scary. But it was also how most people’s lives were – precarious, contingent.
“Thank you for not leaving me to go do dangerous things,” Peter said. It was all he usually said when this subject came up, because the only way Wade could respond was to hold him close and kiss him, which was exactly what he did now. Peter got to sleep fairly quickly in spite of the cold, as Wade was like an electric blanket with a heartbeat.
*~*~*
Peter snuck out of May’s living room as she saw off the last of her party guests. He found Wade back in the bedroom, sitting stiffly on May’s bed that still held a few bags and jackets.
“I have been touched,” Wade said, “by so many middle-aged Italian-American women this evening.”
Concern welled in Peter’s chest. “Like in a bad way?”
“No,” Wade said, breaking into an easy grin. “They’re all adorable. And oh so drunk.”
“So you’re not disappointed we didn’t go to the Stark Tech party?” Peter teased, setting his camera down on the bed.
Wade gave him a look, and Peter laughed. Wade then took his hand and pulled Peter to stand between his knees, kissing him. They stayed like that for a long moment – until May’s hilarious nurse friends came to retrieve their jackets and found them. There were some polite hoots and aws.
“Thank you so much for taking pictures, sweetie,” May said as Peter and Wade helped her with the dishes. “And Wade, thank you for entertaining everyone, I know they can be a bit much—“
Wade shrugged. “Giant, disabled vet with massive scarring – I’m like a human party trick.”
May looked horrified, and Wade had to hug her extra tightly to convince her that he was just kidding. Peter laughed – May would get used to his husband’s humor. It was really very similar to hers.
“I wish I could come to the shelter tomorrow night,” May sighed as they gathered their stuff to leave.
“You have to work in an ER on Christmas Eve,” Peter reminded, kissing her on the cheek. “That counts as social action.”
“And you’ll be here bright and early on Christmas Day, right?” May teased, hugging them both. “Jumping on the bed at five AM, just like old times?”
“You little monster,” Wade feigned horror as May giggled and Peter groaned. “I’ll keep him away until at least nine, May, I promise.”
“You two sleep in as long as you want,” May said, giving Peter a sweet, knowing smile. “Enjoy your first Christmas Eve together.”
Peter felt Wade glance at him. They would enjoy their Christmas Eve, if everything went like it was supposed to. And it would definitely be romantic, if not quite in the way May imagined.
Part of Peter wanted to ask her to send them good thoughts, but they had made a pact. She wouldn’t know anything about that part of their lives. She would never have a reason to worry for them. Peter settled for giving her an extra hug and kiss before they left.
*~*~*
“ The wind began to switch, the house, to pitch! And suddenly the hinges started to, unhitch —“
Preston sighed as Doreen, Gabby, Wanda, and her children sang loudly behind her.
“You did tell them they were allowed to sing through the whole thing,” Wade reminded her as he stirred a giant pot full of turkey gravy, “since we can’t watch it tonight.”
“I underestimated how much of Wizard of Oz they know by heart,” Preston admitted as she and Peter crumbled cornbread for dressing, “which, in retrospect, was very silly of me.”
Peter laughed as his friends continued singing through “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” while preparing a giant Christmas Day meal in the homeless shelter’s kitchen. He did wish May was with them, as she would be having a ton of fun, especially since the kiddos were around.
“Peter, do you think these are enough potatoes?” Ellie asked him.
Peter nearly choked on his own air, partly because Ellie was paying attention to him, and partly because she was standing next to a huge pile of potatoes with a large knife.
“Why don’t we switch jobs?” he suggested, gently.
“She’s actually pretty great with a knife,” Wade said as Preston laughed. “But maybe the food processor would be better, don’t you think, baby girl?”
Ellie’s eyes lit up, and Peter helped her arrange the giant food processor as his heart tried to process an inundation of warm fuzzies. He was so happy that Wade was getting to spend Christmas Eve with his little girl.
Betty and Ned showed up to drop off giant vats of cobbler that they’d made at home, so they all took a break from cooking (and singing) to pose for a group picture.
“Are you posting that?” Preston asked as Peter tapped on his phone.
“Yep,” he replied, returning to helping Ellie with the potato pile. “And I made sure to repost the article about de Blasio giving incentives to commercial housing developers right after it.”
Wade barked a laugh as he wrestled one of three giant turkeys into a bag. “Because we wouldn’t need homeless shelters if people could afford to, like, have homes – great job, baby.”
“Speaking of,” Preston said, looking to make sure that her kids were helping Shane with green beans, “you two have everything you need for tonight?”
“Yep,” Wade answered, giving her a significant look.
Preston nodded, looking both of them directly in the eyes in turn. “I’ll be up putting together a toy race track if you get in a jam.”
Peter nodded, seriously. He was reminded of the first time he met Preston, at the protest, when she’d made him feel both intimidated and confident at once. What they were going to do was stupid, dangerous, and important, and she had their backs.
“Peter, I love Betty and Ned,” Gabby interrupted his thoughts. “They’re just so cute and married, thank you for bringing them to us.”
“We’re cute and married,” Wade reminded, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders.
“You know I mean they’re cute for straight people,” Gabby rolled her eyes at him.
“Don’t even start that with us,” Wanda said, gesturing at Wade with a large spoon. “We had to work all fucking summer to get you two idiots together.”
“And then!” Doreen jumped in, potato-masher in hand. “You buttholes got stupid married and didn’t even invite us!”
Preston burst into hysterical laughter as Doreen, Gabby, and Wanda all started complaining at once about having to coordinate their movements so carefully, about how Wade and Peter had kept looking like they were a done deal and then screwing it up and making each other cry for days on end, how they almost gave up a few times but then bravely carried on.
Peter stood, dumbstruck. He turned to look at Wade, who looked equally dumbstruck. Ellie and Jeff just laughed delightedly because the grownups were saying swears.
“Well, we’re getting a divorce now,” Peter said, recovering from his shock, “just to spite you people for manipulating us.”
He dodged as Wanda tried to whap him with her giant spoon. It wasn’t until much later, when he was helping her make ten gallons of punch and had forgotten all about the danger, that she finally got him, right on the ass. She giggled so much that Peter was afraid she would pass out, and soon after that Preston declared it was time for everyone to go home and get some sleep.
“I’ll be up,” Preston said, giving both Wade and Peter another serious look before leaving with her family.
“You’re not too slap-happy to be our Guy in the Van, are you?” Wade teased Wanda.
“I’ll be your Lady Monitoring Remotely From Her Apartment,” Wanda corrected, giving Wade a hug. “And I’ll have some coffee. Be very careful, please.”
Peter wrapped her up in a big hug. “Thank you for manipulating us into falling in love and getting married.”
Wanda giggled again and kissed him on the cheek.
*~*~*
Peter was shocked at how calm he felt the entire time they were on the construction site. He did his jobs, cut the wires he was supposed to cut, and found that he was done with a little time to spare. Wanda had suggested they get done within ten minutes, and she hadn’t texted him with any new instructions so far. He looked out from the cab of the giant bulldozer (at least he thought it was a bulldozer – some kind of big earth-moving machine) to see his husband standing at the base, waiting for him.
“We’re supposed to meet on the other side of the site,” Peter reminded in a low voice, letting Wade help him climb down the giant tread.
“I know,” Wade shrugged, and Peter could feel his wry smile even through the black material that covered his mouth. “It’s just a very big machine and you’re a very small man.”
“I have been working out,” Peter hissed, quietly, as they made their way quickly back through the cut fence.
They never saw the one guard who was on duty. They made it three blocks away and up a fire escape and heard no sirens. Bless Wanda and her remote monitoring skills.
“Do you think that’ll make a difference?”
Wade shrugged, taking a bite of his empanada. They had left their black clothing in a dumpster to pick up later and found the one food truck in Queens that was still open for late-night Christmas Eve customers. Now, they were perched on a rooftop of an apartment building, careful to make sure they couldn’t be spotted from below, looking out at the cityscape.
“The equipment will take time and money to fix,” Wade said. “It won’t stop them, but it’ll definitely irritate them. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to stop commercial development in a city with a sky-rocketing homelessness rate, but—“
“People will notice, though,” Peter said, leaning into Wade’s side. “Like when we sat down in the street, that was to catch people’s attention, right?”
Wade smiled and leaned back against him. “I didn’t actually get to sit down,” Wade reminded. “I was punching Nazis.”
“And saving twinks from cops,” Peter laughed, softly. They were quiet for a moment. This was, so far, Peter’s favorite part of being with Wade – the moments when they sat quietly and just thought separately about how much they loved each other.
“The first time I looked at you, you smiled at me,” Wade said.
Peter turned to Wade, and Wade looked down at him with those gorgeous blue eyes. Peter remembered their eyes meeting across a community hall, all those months ago, and how he’d instinctively smiled. They stared at each other until they couldn’t stand how gross they were and started laughing.
“We’d better get home if we’re going to jump on May’s bed at five AM,” Peter said. He started to stand, but Wade stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“I know it’s against the rules,” he said, sheepishly, “but I got you a tiny present.”
Peter took the little envelope Wade handed him and opened it to find a gift certificate for Flogging 101, signed with Shiklah’s loopy signature.
“She’s giving us a huge discount,” Wade said, “because she adores you.”
“You brought a gift card for your husband to take a BDSM class,” Peter said, “to an act of civil disobedience?”
“It’s a gift for both of us, really,” Wade laughed, returning the hug Peter wrapped him in. “And I prefer to call it an act of fighting evil.”
Peter held Wade’s hand all the way back to their tiny apartment. They didn’t want to risk taking the train, so it was a bit of a slog, but neither of them minded.
Wade fell asleep almost as soon as they got into bed. Peter checked their Antifa group’s page to see that some Alt Right asshole had left comments all over his recent posts, spewing fake facts about how there wasn’t actually a housing crisis and most homeless people were homeless by choice. He deleted the posts and stuffed his phone under his pillow, but he was so angry his heart pounded in his ears.
It’s okay to be angry, Peter thought. It’s good to be angry – if you’re not angry, you don’t care. The voice in his head sounded very Wade-like, but Wade was snoring peacefully next to him. Peter turned towards him, nudged Wade a little until he changed position and his snoring quieted down. Peter smiled to himself and thought about getting up the next day and doing it all over again, finding something else to be angry about, figuring out something to do about it. With Wade. He eventually fell fast asleep.