Right-- good point. He can copy whatever they do. That doesn't necessarily mean he can fight them better, but it's something.
Adam cups his cheek, and Peter has to spend a moment wrestling everything inside of him under control. He's already acknowledged that Adam is stupidly hot, and now all of that is leaning in, all bright blue eyes and strong jawline, pale hair mussed from sleeping. He'd seem untouchable yesterday, an immortal held apart from the rest of humanity, unknowable, indefinable. Today, right now, he looks just like any other man. Still warm from sleep, a pillow crease on one cheek.
For a moment, Peter imagines kissing him. Would Adam be passionate, the type to explode into action and movement, his every movement wanting and hard? Or would he be patient, soft and explorative and kind?
Biting down on the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, Peter reminds himself he got the last person he loved killed.
He forces a breath of a laugh, a rueful, crooked little grin. "Not before I get some caffeine in me. I can barely remember my own name right now, let alone every power I've picked up." Because he can't help himself, Peter leans into that hand for a moment, letting himself indulge in Adam's warmth before pulling away. He gets off the bed, goosebumps rippling across his skin in the morning chill and the lack of Adam's touch, and starts pulling his clothes on.
"We need a shopping list. Clothes, food. Burner phones would be useful." Peter pulls his t-shirt over his head, shoves his hair back from his face. "You've gotta have a bank account tucked away somewhere, right? Something that's been building interest for decades?" He shoots Adam an amused glance. "That's what all the immortals on TV do, anyway."
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Adam cups his cheek, and Peter has to spend a moment wrestling everything inside of him under control. He's already acknowledged that Adam is stupidly hot, and now all of that is leaning in, all bright blue eyes and strong jawline, pale hair mussed from sleeping. He'd seem untouchable yesterday, an immortal held apart from the rest of humanity, unknowable, indefinable. Today, right now, he looks just like any other man. Still warm from sleep, a pillow crease on one cheek.
For a moment, Peter imagines kissing him. Would Adam be passionate, the type to explode into action and movement, his every movement wanting and hard? Or would he be patient, soft and explorative and kind?
Biting down on the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, Peter reminds himself he got the last person he loved killed.
He forces a breath of a laugh, a rueful, crooked little grin. "Not before I get some caffeine in me. I can barely remember my own name right now, let alone every power I've picked up." Because he can't help himself, Peter leans into that hand for a moment, letting himself indulge in Adam's warmth before pulling away. He gets off the bed, goosebumps rippling across his skin in the morning chill and the lack of Adam's touch, and starts pulling his clothes on.
"We need a shopping list. Clothes, food. Burner phones would be useful." Peter pulls his t-shirt over his head, shoves his hair back from his face. "You've gotta have a bank account tucked away somewhere, right? Something that's been building interest for decades?" He shoots Adam an amused glance. "That's what all the immortals on TV do, anyway."