[That first half second of watching her turn makes him feel like someone's ground up glass into his lungs. She looks so upset. So angry and he's so stupid. Of course she's upset, of course she's angry. He has no right to come near her after what he's caused. Nightmare or reality, he should know to stay away.
She's going to hate him, she already hates him. It's all one and the same.
When she reaches out, Peter expects to be slapped. To be punched or kicked or screamed at. It's no less than he deserves. It's why he stays still; he'll let her have whatever revenge she wants. He owes her that. He owes her so much.
But she doesn't hit him, she just touches him. Soft, gentle. Almost hesitant. She touches him like he's not the worst thing that ever happened to her, like he's not a screw up who taken so much from her aready. Like they're still okay, like they're still intact. Like maybe he hasn't ruined this.
He can't keep still anymore, he can't just stand there when J's right in front of him and maybe still his whatever-they-been. Quickly, but with a practiced carefulness -because she's special and important and he physically can't bring himself to hurt her anymore than he has- he pulls her into his arms. He pulls her as close as he can without crushing her, one arm around the small of her back and the other hand cupping the back of her head. He presses his face against her hair and slowly finds the ability to breath again.
Peter can feel the minute rise and fall of her chest, he can feel the warmth in her skin. She's alive.
She's alive.
His eyes burn with tears that he doesn't know how long he can old back. She might still try to slap him, might still push him away. But in the space of seconds he has before that, he presses a kiss to her temple and relishes that some higher force has enough kindness to give him the chance to do this again.
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She's going to hate him, she already hates him. It's all one and the same.
When she reaches out, Peter expects to be slapped. To be punched or kicked or screamed at. It's no less than he deserves. It's why he stays still; he'll let her have whatever revenge she wants. He owes her that. He owes her so much.
But she doesn't hit him, she just touches him. Soft, gentle. Almost hesitant. She touches him like he's not the worst thing that ever happened to her, like he's not a screw up who taken so much from her aready. Like they're still okay, like they're still intact. Like maybe he hasn't ruined this.
He can't keep still anymore, he can't just stand there when J's right in front of him and maybe still his whatever-they-been. Quickly, but with a practiced carefulness -because she's special and important and he physically can't bring himself to hurt her anymore than he has- he pulls her into his arms. He pulls her as close as he can without crushing her, one arm around the small of her back and the other hand cupping the back of her head. He presses his face against her hair and slowly finds the ability to breath again.
Peter can feel the minute rise and fall of her chest, he can feel the warmth in her skin. She's alive.
She's alive.
His eyes burn with tears that he doesn't know how long he can old back. She might still try to slap him, might still push him away. But in the space of seconds he has before that, he presses a kiss to her temple and relishes that some higher force has enough kindness to give him the chance to do this again.
J's alive, and, oh hell, has he missed her.]