[ He doesn't even notice the protesting ache of the injuries along his chest as she clings to him, because he's too busy trying to soothe her, still carding his fingers through her hair like his mom used to do for him when he had a nightmare (and what was this whole fucking mess but one giant nightmare?). He hates to hear her cry, hates hearing her hurt, and for a moment he feels so guilty when she sobs all the more after he says those three little words.
But he doesn't apologize. He doesn't try to take them back. Because like hell is he going to feel sorry for loving this goddamn woman.
When she finally calms and pulls away, he brings a hand to her cheek, wiping away a stray tear or two with his thumb. Peter leans forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and returns her smile with one of his own.
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But he doesn't apologize. He doesn't try to take them back. Because like hell is he going to feel sorry for loving this goddamn woman.
When she finally calms and pulls away, he brings a hand to her cheek, wiping away a stray tear or two with his thumb. Peter leans forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and returns her smile with one of his own.
Then, softly, ] You alright?