Peter’s known Wade for a while now, so he can maybe see how this makes sense -- like, maybe Wade has a thing about going commando and just happened to have an old girlfriend’s panties lying around, one thing led to another…but… “And the bra?” Peter croaks.

They were in another timeline. It happened occasionally. Who even knew how Wade got involved. He was just trying to show Darcy how many tacos he could fit in his mouth (six), and then blammo: Big flash of light, whirling space vortex, the indescribable sensation of the universe contracting with you inside it to the size of a single electron, and then everybody was spat out in a heap on the sidewalk of a place that looked like -- but probably wasn’t -- New York, and all of Wade’s tacos de sesos were lost to the interdimensional void. “Nooo,” Wade whispered, heartbroken. “Tacos.”

Wade turns to find a very wide-eyed Peter sitting on his couch, freshly showered and fully at home-away-from-home, which would be great if Wade had any clothes on. Scrambling buck-ass-naked through the window of his own apartment was not how he intended to come out to Spiderman, but well, these sorts of things just happen to him. Gotta look into acid proof suits. “Heya Spidey,” Wade says because, well, nothing to be done about it now. He holds his arms out looking down at his own body, and well—yeah, that’s still a sight, ain’t it? “Sorry, pal, didn’t mean to shaft the funhouse onto you unawares. Get it? Shaft?” (Peter sees Wade naked and they jump into this head first. Pun intended.)