Blearily, you open your eyes, feeling a weight on your waist. It was Peter's arm, and although the way you met him wasn't good, you ARE glad he cared enough to stay with you through the night.
"Pete." You whisper, trying to gently wake him so you could use the bathroom. "Peter!" You say more sternly as he wraps his arm around you tighter, pulling you closer to his warm, toned, bare chest.
Wait, bare?! 'Well, fuck.' You think to yourself as you try not to think about his naked, ripped chest.
"Mmh." Peter mumbles in his sleep, "angel..." he whispers, voice deep and rough with sleep.
"Peter, I need to move- ouch!" You yelp as Peter rubs against your bandaged arm, waking Peter from his sleep.
"Shit, angel, sorry!" He, too, yelps, rolling away from you and falling off the hospital bed and onto the floor.
The pain having passed for the moment, you giggle as Peter pops up from the floor, hair tousled in a very cute way.
"Are you ok, babe?!" Peter exclaims, running a hand through his hair, messing it up worse.
You snort, and then to your surprise, you start laughing, a full belly laugh like you haven't laughed in years.
Peter stares at you for a moment in shock before laughing too. The two soulmates share a moment of genuine happiness before your father bursts into the room, a cut on his forehead still bleeding and part of his Ironman suit still on.
