[Peter smiles a little, hopeful, even if he knows this is just some dream-version who would probably say anything his mind truly wanted to hear. You know how that goes, right? Either your dreams are little piranhas that live to hurt you, or they're there to let you live things that could never possibly be. Like when he'd woken up from helping May in the kitchen, only to realize she was still as gone as the day before.]
... Sleep does sound nice. Thanks.
[Peter leans in sharply with a hand still on Wade's jawline, a clear gesture: he's going to kiss the dream girl, same as he's always done when he's got her in his head, because he's missed it. But then he stops, inches from Wade's face, the weary look in half-lidded eyes fading into one —
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... Sleep does sound nice. Thanks.
[Peter leans in sharply with a hand still on Wade's jawline, a clear gesture: he's going to kiss the dream girl, same as he's always done when he's got her in his head, because he's missed it. But then he stops, inches from Wade's face, the weary look in half-lidded eyes fading into one —
Of stunned panic.
Everything in his head grinds to a painful stop.]
... Wade?