#reader peter

“Peter, that you?” your voice rang out from the shared bedroom. The apartment was nearly pitch black besides the dim light that shone from the cracked bedroom door. 

“Yea its me” 

You crawled out of bed putting on your robe before heading into the living room. Like clockwork Peter began his “nightly” routine even though I was nearly 8 am. You knew he would be up for another 2 hours doing work only to be up at 7 for work again. A never ending cycle. Glancing at Peter you felt his exhaustion. 

You could see it in the way his feet dragged across the floor, the bags under his eyes seeming to be worse these past few days, his tie that was barely tied anymore hanging loosely around his neck as if he had intended to take it off a while ago. His jacket was off and now hung on the hook by the door revealing his very wrinkled shit that was partially untucked. His movements were robotic, moving more from habit than actual thought. Drop his bag. Head toward the table where his laptop sat waiting, an ever-present reminder that his job never really ended even when he was off the clock. Do more work till he passed out from exhaustion on the table. Then go to work again.

Except tonight.

You came up behind him, hands resting on his shoulders gently digging into the meat of his back. With a groan he leaned his head back resting it on your chest. 

“Long day at work?” You asked your voice soft. Between your voice and your hands massaging his shoulders he could pass out any minute. 

“When is it not” He groaned before lifting his head, gently grabbing your hand off his shoulder to kiss your knuckles. He reached to open his laptop to continue his work when your hand reached out, fingers curling around his wrist gently, but firm enough that he knew this was non-negotiable.

"Not tonight."

He blinked, slow, like his brain needed a second to catch up. "I just need to—"

"To what? Work more? Stay up until you pass out again?" You shot a pointed look his way. You both knew you were right. Your hand still on his wrist gently tugged him up out of his seat towards the sofa. "Peter, you’re running yourself into the ground."

He let out a dry laugh. "I'm fine."

You gave him yet another look that screamed “bullshit”

You sit on the sofa dragging his large stature down with you. Gently you push his head onto your lap, your fingers threading through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Immediately you felt his shoulders loosen, the tension bleeding out of them like air escaping a balloon. His eyes fluttered shut against his will, and his head tilted into the touch, chasing after it as if it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

A quiet hum slipped from his throat before he could stop it.

"See?" You let out a soft chuckle. One of your hands gently trailing down his back to gently massage his shoulder. "Feels nice, doesn’t it?"

Peter let out a sound, a mix between agreement and surrender. He didn’t want to admit how good it felt. How much he needed this. How much he had been running on empty, barely keeping himself together, until now. He shifted slightly bringing his arms to wrap around you, his head pressing onto your chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of your heartbeat matching his own. His exhaustion hit him like a wave, maybe it was your warmth, or the way your fingers gently moved through his hair and on his back tracing patterns, or maybe it really was just the exhaustion catching up to him. 

You could feel his breaths even out exhaling long and slow, his body going boneless sinking further into your touch, your presence, your silent reassurance that at least for tonight he didn’t have to keep himself upright. The world blurred at the edges, thoughts dissolving into a haze of warmth and comfort. 

Gently you reached up to grab the blanket resting on the back of the sofa, draping over the two of you. Pressing a kiss onto the top of his head you whispered. Your voice reached through the haze to anchor him in the only place that mattered. 

"Sleep, Peter. I've got you."

And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he let himself believe it.

And he slept.