[Peter drops his hand, a bit slow on the uptake, really. Where there's panic, there's confusion, and he looks down at Wade's lack of clothes, and then at his own — and the realization of what stupid shit he'd done is set into motion. He pulls back and wraps the blanket around his middle more securely, not looking at Wade as his face turns every shade of pink and red.

He sounds genuinely mortified. Probably not the best reaction in the world, but he feels like the biggest mistake in all of existence right now.]

Oh shit. Oh godda— I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm such a fucking creep, I didn't know — I'm sorry, Wade, oh my god. [Spoken like a man who wants to throw himself out of a window; he shed down to his underwear and crawled into someone's bed while they were sleeping, and put them through that bullshit, and he told the person he cared about all that while imagining his ex.] I swear, I wouldn't have, I didn't — I'd never do anything —

[Sputtering, he nearly trips off the side of the bed to collect his clothes.]

I'm all messed up from the dream traveling; I've been off, and I didn't think I was here. This was supposed to be New York, and — and there's something wrong with me.

[... Hey, Peter hates himself, too.

They've got so much in common, right now.]