Continuation of Marked, but like a happier version! Still some mention of torture, but like a happier story so not a lot. Be safe and enjoy!

-SecretsInMyHead

Peter had just turned seventeen and was slowly healing. After the whole catastrophe in swim class, the rumour mill swarmed Peter for months. The only good thing that came from the unwanted attention was that no one bullied him. How could they after what they had learned?

Flash actually tried to push him around at first, but the rest of the school quickly shut Flash down. The rest of the students had almost developed an unsaid protectiveness towards Peter, he was so kind to all of them, and for him to have been tortured for months made them all drown in guilt for just watching as Flash and his friends harassed Peter for years.

They couldn't have imagined what had happened to him.

And frankly, when they did try and imagine, it never even came close to the cruel atrocities he had endured.

Even so, Peter had spent the last year and a half healing. Ned and MJ were a huge help and tried to comfort him when he had panic attacks in public, always right there to ground him and remind him that he was free, that he was safe. Still, they couldn't truly comfort him. No matter what they did, they couldn't understand what he had gone through, and why he was reacting the way he was. Not that it was any of their faults! In fact, Peter was glad they couldn't relate to what he had gone through... It was just that he wished he had someone who just knew what he was feeling.

Then came Wade Wilson.

The infamous 17-year-old mercenary, Deadpool.

When he first came to Stark Towers, somehow having become an Avenger through Fury, everyone was wary of him.

He was a loose cannon, a wild card. No one in the tower knew what he was going to do, and when anyone tried to get close to the always red masked, katana wielding, maniac, they were quickly shut down with a snarky and/or dirty joke.

That was until Peter.

He and Peter were actually at odd ends at first, that was until Peter saw Wade without his mask and he felt as if he was hit with a bag of bricks. Wade looked away quickly and hastily tugged his mask back on. No one in the tower had seen his skin yet, none of the Avengers had seen Wade's scars yet. It wasn't that he was ashamed of them, it was just that it made him different, and he didn't want their pity.

Pity was the last emotion he ever wanted to see.

But here Peter was, staring at Wade with wide, almost understanding, eyes. The two stood staring at each other frozen in the room void of anyone else. "FRIDAY, stop recording this room please," Peter spoke up, and once FRIDAY had spoken up that it was done, he let out a sigh. When Wade opened his mouth to ask what the fuck he was doing, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his torso littered with scars of various origins, and to top it off, right over his heart was a brand, 'Property of Hydra' carved into his skin.

The two boys stared at each other with a new understanding and mutual respect. Wade slowly pulled his mask off, showing his scars willingly to the boy in front of him. Almost as if magnetic, the two walked to the centre of the room and reached out their hands. Peter let out a light airy laugh, "I'm sorry it's just-"

Wade butted in, "I finally have someone who understands."

Peter, being the emotional and disaster bisexual he is, started to cry. Something about having someone his age right in front of him, who understood was a gift, was a blessing.

"All they do is remind me," Wade spoke up as he brushed Peter's tears away. "They can never go away, and haunt me every waking moment."

"It's as if I'm thrust back in time, I can feel every single scar being burned into my skin," Peter admitted. "But now-"

"I'm no longer alone..." the two finished together.

A bond was formed that day, a bond between two broken and lost souls, that would ultimately save both of their lives. Sure they may both be scarred and beaten, but they were still alive, and goddammit, they were gonna keep kicking and screaming until they couldn't anymore.

They would heal together and then later in their lives, team up to kick both of their abusers' asses.

What could they say, except revenge is always best when you serve it with your best buddy.

Oh, and when it's cold. Revenge is also pretty good when it's cold.

But until that day comes, the two teenagers would sit and mend, and let the sense of freedom and understanding wash over them. Life would be okay because now, no matter what, they were no longer in life alone.