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“Hey, Red?” Frank grunts from his place perched on the stairs. He has been sitting there stewing and gazing out the window for the last 45 minutes.
Matt continues to drag the tips of his fingers over the deposition for his latest case, but manages a distracted “Hmm?” and waits for Frank to finally start grumbling about whatever has been bothering him all day. The two of them have been alone in this apartment for too long with nothing to do and in typical fashion–without their boy around to break the tension–they've resorted to antagonistic flirtations until one of them finally breaks and shoves the other against the wall. Matt thinks it's Frank’s turn.
Frank is huffing at him from across the room. Apparently, he is displeased with the lack of attention, and Matt can feel the anticipation of a good fight— sorry, fuck–start rushing through his veins. There's a grunt and then a miserable exhale before the words “I miss Pete'' reach his ears. The fight leaves his body, because suddenly it's all Matt can do not to fling himself across the room.
Frank doesn't always have the easiest time being vulnerable with words. Which is endlessly hilarious to Matt and Peter, who will tell anyone willing to listen just how soft he is with them in every other aspect of their relationship. Matt rises from his seat at the bar and walks— absolutely does not leap— towards Frank, and settles on the step below him where he can lean his head against a bouncing knee. Immediately upon contact, Frank stills, hand reaching to thread itself between auburn locks. It feels so nice that Matt is practically sighing when he finally admits “Me too.”
Peter has been busy lately. Always at the library when he isn’t in class or patrolling or taking pictures for Jameson. It’s not like Matt doesn’t get that. He remembers being that way back in law school. And he loves how passionate Peter is about his classes. He gets all adorable and starts to ramble a lot when someone asks about his day: hands flying this way and that. It’s precious.
But. Well. He wants him home, and apparently, so does Frank.
“I’ve been thinking… maybe we go to the library and surprise him or somethin’,”
“What, like for lunch?” Matt ponders that idea for a moment. On the one hand Peter would probably work while he was eating, which isn’t really much more satisfying than the half-attention he had been granting them at home. On the other hand, Peter probably forgets to feed himself at least 50% of the time when he’s late at the library, because Matt finds snack wrappers and empty bowls that smell of ramen mysteriously appearing in the sink sometimes when he wakes up in the morning. Maybe he would eat something if they brought it to him.
“Yeah. Maybe.” Frank huffs out the words. He is still looking out the window, and his trigger finger twitches nervously on Matt's shoulder. His mouth opens and shuts again a few times, and Matt wonders at the hesitation. Frank is a man of action, it's not often that anyone sees him struggling with indecision. But when he does speak, there is no sign of it in his voice.
“I was kinda thinking… more like something where he is the lunch.”
The words are determined, in that tone of his that betrays his military background and obviously stated with a willingness to go at it alone. With a jerk of his head Matt stares in the direction of what he hopes will be Frank's eyes, just gaping for a moment. He can feel Frank looking back at him, and his posture is different now; like he has gone into mission mode. Even without the knowledge that Frank rarely says things he doesn't mean, anyone could tell that Frank isn't joking in the slightest.
“You’re seriously suggesting that we meet him for a quickie in the stacks? Frank!” He shakes his head with a chuckle. “You know we could just tell him we’ve missed him when he gets home?”
“Nah…school’s too important. I don't want him thinkin’ for a minute that he’s been neglecting us or some shit. And come on Red, you know he would. He’d start feeling all guilty and start trippin all over himself to make up for it.”
Intrigued, Matt sits up a little straighter, “And the library tryst prevents that because…?”
Frank shrugs and grabs Matt’s closest hand between his own. He brings it up to his mouth, and when he lays a kiss across Matt’s knuckles, he can feel the smile hiding behind it. “We play it off like an impulse decision. We were at home doin’ what we do and got bored and just felt like seein’ him. That's on us. Makes for a pleasant surprise. Yeah?”
Frank’s amusement is contagious, and suddenly his blood is rushing with arousal. Matt takes a moment to wonder at why he questioned the idea in the first place, but when he grins he knows Frank must see the Devil in the show of his teeth. “Okay, I'm in. What's the plan, Lieutenant?”
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"Oh, Mr. Parker! I'm glad I caught you. I have those books you requested last week.”
“Really? Awesome! Thank you Mrs. D.” Peter’s head swivels around, eyes already searching for anywhere the evasive books might be hidden, “Do I need to go to the front desk and grab them, or are they back on the shelves already?”
Eager to grab them as soon as possible Peter leaps out of his seat at his usual table to face the librarian more easily. He needs those books to finish his dissertation. Of course, that means in typical Parker Luck ™ fashion, he’s been waiting for weeks. Thankfully, Mrs. D seems to really like him, and is always moving him up on the waiting lists.
“Well actually, one of the assistant librarians loaded them up on their cart before I could grab them. But if you head over to the Anthropology section on the next floor, I think that's where they were headed. You'll probably catch them before they get put back.”
It was probably rude for Peter to bail on the librarian so quickly, but that didn't stop him from speed walking towards the stairs. Mrs. D might like him, but he wasn't about to test his luck by outright running through her library. Still, he couldn't afford to lose those books to some other chem student— he'd never finish in time without them. Hence, the speed walking and the hasty “Thank you!” thrown over his shoulder as he hustled through the aisles of books.
Peter skipped up the stairs on the balls of his feet and skids around the corner towards the Anthro section. He rakes his eyes over each aisle and still no book cart or library assistant. In fact, this section of the library is pretty empty— and quiet. A small tingle up the back of his spine alerts him to the oddness of this, but focused as he is on his search, he shakes it off.
“If I were a book cart, where would I be…?” Peter mutters. He's almost to the wall at the end of the section when he hears the slide of a book on a shelf and he picks up speed. Only, when he skirts around the corner he sees–
“... Matt? Frank? What are you doing here?” Frozen in surprise, Peter blinks at his boyfriends in shock.
Peter is pretty adaptable though, and he recovers quickly, letting his eyes flit behind them. Sure enough, still no book cart. That was the last row, he thinks despondently, shoulders slumping a bit.
“Don't look so happy to see us, sweetheart,” Matt grins unrepentantly back at him from his place against the wall. He nods his head in Franks direction, “We got bored, so we came looking for ideas on how to kill the time”
“...Is that the Kama Sutra?” Peter's eyes narrow on the book in Frank's large hands, and then widen. “Why are you reading the Kama Sutra without me? And actually, wait, why are you here? You couldn’t just google sex positions online?”
“Sure we could, but you're here,” Frank shrugs. Peter considers snarking back at them, something along the lines of ‘Okay, Boomer’ but they're both smirking at him, and the gleam in their eyes gives him pause.
It’s then that what must be Peter’s final fucking braincell seems to wake up, because suddenly he is reminded of how he found them in the first place. “How much did you have to pay to get Mrs. D to send me up here?”
Frank snorts, “Red barely even had to bat his eyelashes in her direction. One glance at his wounded duck imitation and a few words about surprising you because you've been so busy, and she practically herded us up here herself. ‘Course, I don't think she knew exactly what we were planning, ‘else she probably woulda kicked us out.”
Peter squints at them, eyes flitting back and forth between twin expressions of mischief. “...Planning?”
Matt is chuckling at him, and when he darts his eyes back to Frank, he only gets a raised eyebrow. He’s not sure when he moved so close to them in the back of the aisle, but he’s close enough to see the heat in Frank's eyes when it dawns on him.
“Y- you mean here?! In the library? Guys, are you crazy? Of course you're crazy, but this is a special brand of crazy, even for you guys. Anyone could come around that co– umph–”
Peter is interrupted by Frank's calloused hand coming up to cup his throat right under his jaw, and he melts into it. His rambles dissolve into a low moan before Frank's lips ever get the chance to crash against his own. When they do, well, frankly(hah) it's a little embarrassing how quickly he gives into the heat of their touch. His hands are strong and brutal–capable of so much violence–but they hold him gently; like something to be worshiped.
For a man with such a weighty, almost animalistic presence, it has always intrigued him how sensual and intimate Frank’s kisses are; all slow and deliberate brushes of lips against his own, while his tongue seems determined to map out every secret held between them. Every touch and caress is tailored specially to bring Peter straight to his knees. Peter feels Matt press in behind him, saving him from the embarrassment of becoming a puddle on the floor. He sends a quick mental ‘thank you’ to his other boyfriend.
Matt’s heat along the curve of his spine only intensifies his need to be touched, and Peter can’t help but cant his hips back into the hardness pressed against his ass. Then Matt's fingers slip under the waistband of his pants and tease at his hip bone, and Peter shudders, pressing forward into the touch. He’s rewarded with Frank's denim clad knee, grinding into his erection, which rips a high pitched whine from his throat. Instantly, Frank is tearing his lips away, and the hand on his throat shoots to cover his mouth.
The stupid hand over his mouth stops him from chasing after more kisses, and he glares at it in offense. Frank lets out a dark, gravely, chuckle and Peter’s doe eyes shoot up to meet dark hazel. He’s already planning on using the full powers of the Peter Puppy Pout ™ to beg for more kisses, when he is rudely interrupted by the wicked twist of Matt's lips against his ear.
“Shhh. Sweetheart, we are in a library. Anyone could hear you.”
And okay: Peter knows when he’s being mocked. He can hear his own complaints being thrown back at him (and his eyes probably roll all the way back into his brain in annoyance), but he nods begrudgingly..
After all, if he doesn't, they might do something completely unreasonable, like stop.
Peter waits helplessly, barely daring to breathe as Frank’s eyes dart to Matt behind him. His chest is heaving, and he can feel the flush of warmth on his face that indicates he must be blushing.
Well, the two of them–Matt and Peter, pressed flush together–must make a pretty picture, because Frank swallows thickly before shifting closer. Then, his dark eyes are burning into Peter’s, once more sending a shiver of yearning down Peter’s spine. His body is vibrating with the urge to jump into Frank's arms or kiss him— something, anything, but he continues to wait patiently.
Sort of. He's still arching himself into Matt behind him— sue him, but neither patience nor sitting still are exactly his strengths, okay?
Finally, Frank opens his mouth, “Okay darlin’. If we are going to do this, you're going to have to keep that mouth of yours quiet. Meanin’ at least one of my hands is going to be busy keeping it shut. So you'll hafta hold yourself up, yeah?”
He doesnt give Peter time to ask what the fuck he means by that, and within seconds, there is a near dizzying flurry of movement; Matt is shoving Peter’s pants down to his ankles, and next thing he knows, they are slipping over the ends of his feet as Frank hauls him up into the air. He is distantly aware of the sound his pants make when they hit the floor of the library, but his ability to care disappears pretty quickly as he is lifted until his legs are positioned over broad muscled shoulders. He grapples desperately at the edge of a shelf when large hands release his hips, and a ridged, crooked nose starts nuzzling in between his legs.
Once he has regained his balance, Peter glances down through the gap between his arms and sees that in the commotion, he totally missed Matt slipping around to fit himself between Frank and the bookshelf behind him. From this angle, he can see both of them perfectly.
Matt has already lowered his own pants and is currently working at Frank’s, and Peter takes a moment to pout at the fact that neither of them had to take their pants completely off, before Matt is removing a thick plug from between Frank’s cheeks. Its so hot that the air decides to vacate his lungs for a moment as it occurs to him just exactly how fucked he is.
Peter thinks maybe Matt sticks the plug in his pocket, but he’s a little busy watching as Frank’s mouth drops open against his thigh. Matt bends at the knees a little and lines himself up before slowly beginning to press inside Frank. It's hotter than it has any right to be, and at a loss for anything else to do, Peter settles for he gripping more tightly onto the shelf in front of him. He watches closely as, inch-by-inch, Matt’s cock disappears into Frank. He peers down, near hypnotized as Frank is forced to clutch at Matt’s left arm where it is wrapped around his hips for stability. Each little thrust of Matt's hips is lifting him onto his toes a bit, threatening to ubalance him.
The sight of all of it tangled with the heat Frank's breath against his thigh as he lets out little grunts has Peter letting out a low groan, and of course Frank hears it–the bastard. Suddenly, his right hand is reaching up to cover Peter's mouth again. Peter has a hard time regretting the sound, though, because it gets the attention back on him and yes, please and thank you—then, Frank transitions from breathing into the crease of his thigh, to lalving firm licks up the side of his dick.
The first stroke of tongue against his cock is electric and Peter’s dick is leaking a little already. Which, it’s been a while okay? Frank must agree. Either that or Matt is dicking him down too good for him to focus on teasing Peter too much because he doesn't waste much time with the tantalizing licks before he is taking Peter's length into his mouth and sucking around the length, hollowing out his cheeks.
Peter lets out a muffled cry against Frank’s hand at the sudden heat, and he can’t stop himself from fucking forward into Frank’s throat. Frank barely reacts to the force of the intrusion except for a calm inhale through his nose, and then he is swallowing around him like a sadist before pulling back so that his lips are surrounding little more than the tip. Frank lingers there for a bit, paying particular attention to the little seam on the underside of his dick, right below the head, alternating between running his tongue over it softly and sucking with dogged determination, but never taking him further into his mouth, and it feels like Peter might catch fire at the teasing.
Peter might have even been tempted to complain if he wasnt also hyper aware of how his whole body was still being jostled by every fuck of Matts hips into Frank. Frank has been letting these rocks of his body up onto his toes guide him, matching the tight slide of his lips along the end Peter's length to the rhythm of Matt's hips.The knowledge that Matt, who at this point has barely even touched him, is somehow controlling the exact amount of friction that he is receiving from Frank's mouth is like…unreasonably, hot.
Almost as hot as the realization that precariousness of this sex train is depending almost entirely on his grip on the wall to keep them from toppling forwards– or backwards in his case. Which, like, he knows his sticky hands are doing most of the work for him, but for some reason, that doesn't do anything to prevent the way his arms and core muscles are trembling with exertion. And that's crazy too, because he has literally caught a bus with his bare hands.
Matt must pick up on the fact that he is thinking, like, way too hard right now, because he pauses his assault on Frank’s throat, gazes up in the general direction of Peter’s face, and whispers “Oh sweetheart, I think our boy needs some help getting out of his head.”
Then he is licking his fingers and bringing them around to cup at Peter’s ass, probing blindly between his cheeks for the warmth of his hole. Clever fingers find his entrance quickly, and Matt does not hesitate to slip one inside. The spit eases the way a little for the initial penetration, but does basically nothing to prevent the beautiful burn of his long finger stretching Peter open once it moves a little deeper. It's sexy as hell, and he barely even winces at the sting, but honestly Peter isn't always super into pain with his pleasure, and right now he'd rather be spoiled.
Frank can apparently read Peter's mind too, because he starts to get sloppy, and begins to let his spit drip down around Peter's dick so that it runs down between his thighs for Matt to quickly catch on his fingers before plunging back in roughly. The extra lubrication is just enough to help the twinge of discomfort give way into pure ecstasy as talented fingers begin curling inside of him and brushing teasingly at his prostate.
Matt fucks his fingers in and out in of Peter in time with the slide of Franks mouth and for every time Frank pulls back, there is a firm press of fingers inside him attacking his prostate with precision. The punisher’s hand is salty against his mouth and the taste is addictive as it smothers the life out of Peter’s barely coherent begging. All that's left are tiny gaps against warm skin as he is destroyed by the devastating push-pull of their bodies worshiping his own.
Time feels meaningless as Peter lets himself get lost in the sensations; their agonizing rhythm only ever disturbed by Matt’s sadistic little pauses to tease the sensitive skin at his entrance everytime he notices him getting too close to the edge. Only to start the torture all over again when the shivers wracking his body start to subside.
Overwhelmed, Peter’s head drops back and this time his whine is loud enough to hear clearly, even beneath Frank's hand. Frank’s lips pull off his dick with a pop and Peter damn near gives himself whiplash trying to look down at him, thinking he's being punished. Which would be unfair, because it was an accident. Except when he looks down he isn't greeted with the smug gaze of someone knowing that they are holding Peter on the edge of insanity.
No, it's worse.
Much. Worse.
Frank's forehead is glistening with sweat and his mouth has dropped open, slack with pleasure. His free hand is twisted behind him, grasping desperately back and forth between Matt's hip and the bookshelf like he's unsure how to keep himself stable as Matt's hips continue to piston into him. His abdominal muscles are clenching and twitching visibly, even beneath the henley shirt he's wearing, and his dick is leaking almost as much as Peter's own. Matt’s sinful red lips alternate between sucking and nipping a path down the tendons of Frank's vulnerable neck, where his head is tilted back onto his shoulder. Peter can hear him whispering filthy words of encouragement into Franks stupidly adorable ears and fuck.
They're beautiful.
Suddenly feeling distant from them and frustrated at his inability to participate beyond grinding back against Matts fingers as they fuck him, he reaches down with one hand to trace franks gaping lips. They're red and hot, swollen and slick with spit from sucking his cock, and Peter wishes that he could taste them. Peter might be bendy enough to reach them if he tried, but he would have to loosen his grip on the shelf, and any attempts would likely result in Matt's fingers vacating their attempt at burrowing into his prostate, which— no.
Even without Frank’s mouth on him, the view combined with Matt’s meticulous torture of his prostate he is precariously close to falling over the edge. Peter's sweat covered thighs are quivering now with exertion, and his abs are tense from being consistently held so close to the edge. He needs to come, and soon, but he wants to do it with both of them touching him. He needs to get Matt to finish toying with Frank…but Matt won’t stop until Frank is a quivering mess, and his stamina is ridiculous. It’s going to take something special to push him over the edge…
Peter's thoughts are interrupted when the hand over his mouth starts to slip down a few inches and triggers an idea.
Feeling mischievous, he nibbles a little on Frank's trigger finger where it has now fallen perfectly in between his lips. Then he pulls back just enough that the hand is hovering somewhere around his jawline, and pauses to ensure he has his full attention. Then, once hooded hazel eyes have finally opened and raised to meet his own, he slowly but deliberately arches his back, and begins to grind down on Matt's fingers while grabbing the hand on his throat. He slides it down his chest to his cock before he quietly moans, “Daddy, please”
He feels Matt withdraw his fingers harshly at his words, but he never lets his eyes leave Frank’s as he begs to be touched, so he gets to see the exact moment that his words register. Fingers tighten along Peter’s jaw, hard enough to cut off the air supply for just a moment, and every muscle in Frank's body seems to tense until they seem like they could burst from beneath his skin. Finally, they release, and Frank slackens as he comes with a quiet grunt.
Matt, who must harness the sheer power of catholic guilt to do so, pulls out and grips punishingly at the base of his own cock, ensuring that he doesn't follow Frank over the edge. He pulls further away from Peter, getting another high pitched whine in response, and steadies Frank against the bookshelf before sliding around behind Peter and running strong, slender fingers up his spine.
“Peter. I thought you understood that you needed to keep quiet. You said it yourself, this is a library…We wouldn't want to be…disruptive.” Matt tsked.
Peter is tempted to argue, but whatever miniscule amount of self-preservation he has inside him stops him– he got what he wanted anyways. So instead of arguing, he widens his eyes innocently at Frank and nods.
“You know, Red… I’m not so sure he deserves t’ finish. We came all this way to surprise him and he can't even follow the rules.”
Peter stiffens and carefully doesn't so much as whimper. He hadn't really considered the idea that they would really leave him like this. Matt’s hand rubs his back reassuringly, and he allows himself to relax slightly into the touch.
“I don't know Frank,” Matt hums, “He’s worked so hard lately. I think he just wanted Daddys’ attention, but I bet he can be good for us if we let him.”
“That right?”
Once again, pinned down by the weight of Frank's dark gaze looking up at him, he pouts a little and nods frantically in answer. The silence continues for a moment, and Peter's eyes sting a little as traitorous tears start to build at the suddenly very real possibility that they might leave him like this. Sensing that Peter wasn't playing coy anymore, something in Frank’s stance softens. He sighs, reaching out to trace a finger down Peter's cheek and mutters, “ ‘S alright, Pete. We gotchu”
“Now, I didn't say he shouldn't be punished,” Matt smirks dangerously. “Pete, it's your job to keep quiet now. Frank’s not going to help you anymore. I think that's fair, don't you?”
Peter doesn't hesitate to nod once more, fully aware they aren’t about to make it easy on him.
Frank gives him a little bop under the chin in response and says, “ ‘Atta boy,” and he practically purrs in response, his body overcome with the familiar warmth of Frank’s praise. Then that warmth quickly transforms into a blaze, because now Matt is laying light butterfly kisses down his spine and each brush of his lips against his skin blends together like a trail of fire as he works his way down until he reaches Peter’s ass.
As the kisses get closer and closer to his hole it dawns on him exactly where Matt is going with this and he hurries to get a hand over his mouth. Peter ends up with one hand in Frank's hair guiding him back onto his dick and gripping short strands tightly as he mouths along his cock. He isn't really setting the pace so much as grounding himself because Frank is literally always in control of his own body, but the connection between them makes Peter happy as the other man once again sets out to dole out a delightful torment with his mouth.
His other hand is cupped across his own mouth and he is biting into the meaty part of his palm. The only thing keeping Peter steady now is his core and the extra support that Matt provides with his presence at his back
The very first swipe of Matt's tongue over his opening has Peter gasping and tightening his grip on Frank's short hair. Frank hums around him at the sensation before working one of his enormous hands around Peter’s balls and massaging it around. Peter tries to grunt down against his hand quietly, but Matt definitely hears it because in the next moment he is covering his rim with his lips and sucking the sensitive skin punishingly. Luckily he made sure to keep his hand over his mouth because it's the only thing preventing the yelp that tries to force its way through his lips at the sensation. He bites down on the flesh more firmly as his hips slowly begin to swivel back to get more of a feel for that talented tongue.
They don’t hold back on him. It’s a constant push and pull between his two lovers. Everytime Peter arches back to take Matt's tongue deeper inside, Frank pulls back so that his lips barely graze the tip of his head, until he is forced to thrust his hips forward and back into the heat of his mouth.
They are wreaking havoc on his body and his mind as he chases oblivion in their hands, never quite sure whether to buck his hips forward, deeper into the warmth of Frank's throat, or to arch back and relish every heated sweep of Matt's tongue on his rim. His thighs are shaking again and now, even his arms are quivering with the effort at stopping himself from just kneeing further onto the top of Frank’s head and toppling into a bookshelf–he is so close now.
When it happens, Matt sees it coming before he does. Peter is vaguely aware of Matt tapping Frank's cheek one time, before he is pulling back just enough to plunge two fingers back inside of Peter. Frank sees the signal for what it is, and takes Peter further into his throat, and then— Peter tips over the edge. Crashing into oblivion as Frank swallows around his length, and Matt nails his prostate in perfect synchrony.
For a moment, everything goes dark, and when he blinks his eyes back open he is shocked to find himself back on the ground in the safety of Matt's arms. He lays sweet kisses onto his throat and cheeks. Frank is swiping tears he doesn't remember falling off his cheeks, and for a moment he just… lets himself lean into their touch. It’s really nice to be in their arms again, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed them these last few weeks until…. Wait.
Peter's eyes shoot open, and he takes in their surroundings as he remembers exactly what he came up here for.
“Wait wait wait, shit–guys, how long have we been here?” Peter reaches for his pants and hops on one foot as he tries to slide them back on over sticky legs. He grimaces at the sensation of his underwear clinging to his frame, but powers through it as he hastily buttons his pants.
“I came up here looking for some really important books—” Peter’s rant cuts off at the sound of a chuckle from behind him. Ice shoots down his frame as he spins around to face his lovers once more. Matt, the man behind the chuckle, is hiding a smile and rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, while Frank is grinning unrepentantly
“... they never really had my books, did they?”
He can feel his face fall, and he slumps back against the wall, exhausted and utterly deflated. Stress begins to crawl back through his frame, and Peter runs his hands over his face before tugging on his hair in frustration.
“Sweetheart, wait- ”
“No, Pete, come on, none of that.”
“It's okay. We can get them for you ”
“You shouldn't have to, they were supposed to be here. I’ve been betrayed by a librarian… is nothing sacred?” Peter mumbles woefully.
Head still in his hands, Peter listens as Frank and Matt practically stumble over themselves to reassure him– but he can't bring himself to look up at them. His thoughts are racing as he tries to figure out if he could find the books at a different library, when hands gently start threading themselves through his chestnut locks. Unable to help himself, he leans into Matt’s touch, and then it’s Frank cupping his cheeks to bring his face the rest of the way up until their eyes meet.
“Hey. Hey. Let me buy you the books, Pete. Please? Yeah, can you please just let me do that for you, darlin’? I wanna get ‘em for you.”
Peter bites his lip, helpless to deny Frank anything when he looks at him like that and nods. Matt, who had been nuzzling his face against Peter’s temple, smiles triumphantly and says, “Good, that's good baby. Because he already did, they're sitting on the bar at the apartment.”
The boy was too stunned to speak.
But then, his absolutely horrible excuses for boyfriends pull him to his feet and squeeze his hands tightly within their own and he loves them so much its stupid.
“Well then, what are we waiting for? Clearly you two have been a disaster without me.”
Peter smiles softly, pointedly ignoring their mutual looks of amused disbelief and begins to tug them back towards the stairs to snag the rest of his stuff.
“Let's go home.”