Never. There was nowhere else better to be. He just didn't belong here. That was the problem.

"I'm a spy. I work for the CIA. I'm sorry, Peter." Deflection. So much deflection. "I have six toes. My mother was a lion. The illuminati is real. ...I'm pregnant."

This was not his Peter, no matter how adorkable and perfect he was. And how did that saying go? Though shalt not pound another Wade's Peter into the mattress they sleep on.

"Can I be the little spoon?" Wade rolled over so his back was to Peter, pushing back against him. Maybe if he fell asleep he'd wake back up in a place where he wasn't being tortured every moment by what he could have had. He sighed. "...thanks for hearing me out."