Peter's not sure if he immediately regrets the telepathy or-- something else.
Because first Adam thinks about Starbucks, and he guesses that makes sense -- (Peter's wistfully thinking about the little cafe down the block from his apartment and he has half a mind to lecture Adam about how garbage Starbucks is and real Italian coffee is where it's at not that milkshake coffee shit) -- but then he catches a glimpse of his own face, his rumpled hair, a snatch of wistfulness, curiosity, and, it's just a lot. Knowing that Adam wants to wake up to him every morning is a lot. Peter now gets why that cop had looked like he didn't sleep. Could he even turn it off? Did he have that luxury?
Thankfully, Peter does. Or at least, he's supposed to. Because when he goes to try to carefully dial that power down, it stays firmly stuck where it is. Part of him likes hearing Adam's thoughts.
Fuck.
"Sure, that could work," Peter says, and he feels like his own voice is coming from a mile away, deliberately casual in the face of his internal chaos. "I'll give it a try after I've got some caffeine in me."
It doesn't take long to get the coffee brewed, and when Peter takes a sip, it takes every scrap of stubbornness he has not to spit it back out. It had smelled okay, but holy shit.
"Nope." Peter sets the coffee back down. "Well, maybe." He picks it up again and takes another sip, and scowls even worse than the second time. "That's disgusting." And yet he's not putting the cup back down. "Want any?"
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Because first Adam thinks about Starbucks, and he guesses that makes sense -- (Peter's wistfully thinking about the little cafe down the block from his apartment and he has half a mind to lecture Adam about how garbage Starbucks is and real Italian coffee is where it's at not that milkshake coffee shit) -- but then he catches a glimpse of his own face, his rumpled hair, a snatch of wistfulness, curiosity, and, it's just a lot. Knowing that Adam wants to wake up to him every morning is a lot. Peter now gets why that cop had looked like he didn't sleep. Could he even turn it off? Did he have that luxury?
Thankfully, Peter does. Or at least, he's supposed to. Because when he goes to try to carefully dial that power down, it stays firmly stuck where it is. Part of him likes hearing Adam's thoughts.
Fuck.
"Sure, that could work," Peter says, and he feels like his own voice is coming from a mile away, deliberately casual in the face of his internal chaos. "I'll give it a try after I've got some caffeine in me."
It doesn't take long to get the coffee brewed, and when Peter takes a sip, it takes every scrap of stubbornness he has not to spit it back out. It had smelled okay, but holy shit.
"Nope." Peter sets the coffee back down. "Well, maybe." He picks it up again and takes another sip, and scowls even worse than the second time. "That's disgusting." And yet he's not putting the cup back down. "Want any?"