✁𝙏𝙤𝙢 𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐠

"tell me a secret," peter whispers. his dark brown eyes flit in and out of your vision as he blinks slowly, lashes fluttering with the movement. his fingers ghost your cheek with a gentle touch. you nudge against the touch, urging his hand closer. he obliges and cups your cheek.

the two of your rest on top of your covers, facing each other with tentative smiles and gentle touches. your birthday's been a quiet one; morning texts from peter detailing sweet promises, lunch at delmar's (discounted by the man himself), and then a long nap at home with peter. now nearly seven in the evening and the sun going down, things were coming to an end.

"what kind of secret?" you giggle, matching his soft tone of voice. the comforter nearly swallows your words, what with your cheek pressed against it, but peter hears you. he scoots closer to you on the bed.

"like..." he pauses, searching for the words; he looks up to the ceiling in thought. you playfully mock the look on his face, sticking your tongue out between your teeth. peter pinches your cheek when he notices, sending you both into a fit of quiet laughter.

"peter, what kind of secret?"

your boyfriend exhales softly. "hmm... perhaps... what you might want as a present? for a certain occasion?"

you give peter a deadpan look. he tries to keep a straight face, lips pursed to hide a smile and eyebrows raised. the freckles dotted across his nose and cheeks bloom like flowers— the fading evening sun makes them particularly noticeable. they pop against his rosy cheeks and tempt you to count them. you've always thought them to be one of his most precious features, poking them or kissing them whenever you could. maybe peter knows you're thinking that because he breaks his gaze at the wall.

"so?" he says expectantly, still biting back a smile. you gently shove his shoulder; peter reaches to catch your hand before you can pull it away, entwining his fingers with yours. you squeeze his hand.

"if you're looking for a birthday present," you begin teasingly, "you're a little late, baby."

peter's suddenly blushing deeply, looking down in between your bodies. his thumb strokes along the side of your hand in a familiar gesture.

"no! i have your present, lovebug, promise. i just..." peter bites his lip, looking nervous for what seems like no reason. your eyebrows furrow in concern.

"hey," you squeeze his hand once again, pulling it to your chest. he can feel your heartbeat, loud and even. he thinks your hearts must always be in sync; every time yours calms, his calms. when you're nervous, his speeds up. maybe you share a heartbeat, like some sort of soulmate connection has linked them together for no reason other than to show how much he needs you, loves you. how much you love him.

you lean down and press a kiss to peter's fingers. he smiles, falling deeper for the pretty, pretty girl in front of him. you've always been so sweet and loving, had such an entrancing quality that made him want to be near you all the time. he thinks about that when he feels your soft breath as you talk.

"i will love whatever you give me," you promise him. "even if it's just you. i'll take kisses if that's what you have for me."

peters eye's crinkle with laughter.

"it's better than kisses, angel. at least, i hope so."

"better than kisses? must be really good then."

peter meets your eyes after the playful statement. the worry is gone and replaced with a hopefulness.

he sits up quickly, pressing a peck to your joined hands just before he releases them. you prop yourself up on an elbow and watch him clamber out of bed. he fumbles around a little, socked feet sliding around on the wood floor. he's wearing one of your favorite comfy outfits of his; it's just black jeans and a midtown sweater, but it looks really cute on him. it's something about the way the sleeves are too long and cover his palms and how the jeans hug his legs, you guess.