Just Out of Reach

Ch. 8: Tonight's the Night

"Tonight's the night that you belong to me. Tonight's the night there'll be no company. Oh, tonight. Tonight's the night. Tonight's the night. Now, listen to me, honey. Someone should call - don't answer the phone. Somebody knocks on the door - tell 'em we're not home. I just want it to be, darling, nobody but me and you, honey, tonight. I don't want no friends around. There's a whole lot of sweet talk, girl, I'm gonna be putting down. Cut off the stereo. Forget about the late, late show. 'Cause tonight, honey, oh tonight." - Solomon Burke

* * *

When you woke up the next morning you felt a very deep pain in your chest. The words you'd said to Peter last night before the two of you fell asleep had been brutally honest, and you were relatively sure they'd come from your own insecurity. But it was true, to a point, that if Peter kept waiting for something from his past to fix him then you could only wait so long in the present.

Still, you felt the need to apologize and ask if Peter wanted to maybe talk it through. You hadn't given him much chance last night. So when you turned around to see the bed was empty and Peter's arm was gone, your breath immediately left your chest.

You sat up so quickly that you got a head rush when you threw your legs over the side of the bed. For a moment you had to sit there as your body began to function, catching up with your brain, before you could stand. It wasn't like Peter was obligated to stay, and neither had you told him to. But you'd been expecting him to stick around. And the fact that he hadn't ... well, you tried to keep your tears in.

Shuffling down the hall towards the kitchen and living space, your heart jolted in your chest when you heard Peter's deep and slow voice - the voice he reserved for conversation with everyone else (other than you).

He'd stayed.

"So what would have happened if you hadn't come here?" Lazlo was asking, hunched over and attending to Peter's stitches that were being removed. Peter was sitting on the kitchen counter and had his arm up in the air so Lazlo could get better access. He was leaning back on his artificial arm, staring out the window behind Lazlo's head.

"There's a small tracker in my suit," Peter informed him, "I could have signaled there was an emergency and someone would have come to get me. It's not a big deal. I've had worse."

"I'm glad you came here," Lazlo started, "But I suggest the next time you don't scare the shit out of Y/N. I know she cares about you a lot and would do anything for you, but her face last night when she woke me up to help you ... I thought someone had died."

"I wasn't thinking," Peter grit his teeth, "And I know she'd -"

"Good morning," you spoke up, hoping to break up whatever argument Peter was about to get into. His head whipped in your direction so quickly that you were startled by his direct gaze on you so suddenly.

"Hey babe," Lazlo drawled lazily, "Just removing your boyfriend's stitches. There's coffee in the pot if you'd like some. Could you refill mine?"

"Sure," you patted Lazlo's shoulder as you walked behind him and grasped his mug.

You could feel Peter's eyes on you the entire time you were maneuvering around the kitchen but he didn't say anything. Peter valued his privacy over everything else, and his conversations with you were fiercely private. You knew he'd never act how he did with you when the two of you were joking and laughing in his lab in front of your friends. So you didn't take his lack of communication seriously.

"Did you sleep well?" he finally asked. His voice was soft and it cracked at the end of his question. Lazlo was smirking behind his glasses as he tugged on a stitch particularly hard, causing Peter to wince.