Peter was always told not to associate with guys like wade. The guys who would drink until they were way to drunk for their own good, and get into fights with anyone they saw. Peter made sure to stay away from them. The walk home from his “Stark internship” always included walking past a bar that seemed to always be packed with the douches he attempted to stay away from. He was pretty good at avoiding the catcalls, remarks made towards him by the men, and the men. that was until Peter was walking home and noticed a hunched over figure in an alleyway. He squinted his eyes and began walking over to the male slowly “h-hello?” He said softly, fear building up inside of him. The closer he got to the male, the more bloody he seemed. “Oh shit” he mumbled before quickly rushing over and crouching down next to the male. He hurriedly opened his backpack and got out bandages to patch him up. After a while of sitting there and patching the stranger up, Peter slung his backpack over his shoulder and wrapped his arms under wades arms, dragging him back to his apartment. He crawled in through the window and dragged wade in with him. At first he laid him on his bed, but after experiencing the uncomfortable floor he decided to lay a couple blankets down and a pillow, then pull wade down to lay on the floor. Peter sighed heavily and laid down, pulling the covers over himself and falling asleep. He would deal with the male tomorrow, he was too tired now.
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I really hate this sorry -Elle ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
When you woke up that night to go to the toilet, you weren’t expecting to have to console your best friend from a nightmare induced panic attack.
You woke groggily (like any normal person). You groaned quietly to yourself when you realised the sudden urge you had to go to the toilet. You mentally cursed yourself for not going before you went to sleep that night, throwing the blanket off you. The cold instantly hit your body, undoubtedly walking you up. You sat up while rubbing your eyes, your feet hitting the cold floor of your room.
You did your business, desperately wanting to get back into the comfort of your bed.
You were only half way back to your room when you heard a particular nose. You didn’t know what it was at first. It was quiet, but loud enough to hear whilst walking by. It took a few seconds to realise they were sobs.
You froze, trying to get a better listen to the cries, and where it was coming from. You walked towards it, and it led you to the room of your best friend, Peter Quill.
You held onto him lightly as he gripped onto you. You rocked him back and forth in an attempt to settle his crying. He was a mess. Beyond coherent, his voice as broken as his heart.
You spent a large portion of the night consoling Peter, trying to make him feel better. It took a while before his breathing slowed, and even longer for the tears to stop. His voice came back even later, light and shaky. He only told you about his nightmare the day after.
It was about his mother. It was awful, heart wrenchingly my painful. No wonder he was so distraught. The poor man.
You stayed with Peter every night until he felt comfortable once again. This was about a week in retrospect, but maybe you should have stayed longer. You didn’t really know.
You supported him as best as you could for the rest of days, never wanting him to be that bad again.