( Peter wonders what it's like, to remember the world in bits and pieces. how does Matt keep those memories so clear, after so many years? he wants to ask, but especially tonight it might feel too much like prying. he decides to keep it simple instead, by continuing to dunk on the poor Coney Carousel. )

Take your already horrifying mental image and add a few decades of wear and tear and we're getting ballpark of how bad these things are.

( is it just him that thinks it's weird, to crawl into Matt's bed when they're not tearing each other's clothes off? probably, Peter seems to be the only one of the two of them that notices how weird things are. he pauses, waffling on whether he wants to lose it and decides he does, dragging off his sweatshirt before he climbs in after Matt, and while he does enter the far side he doesn't exactly stay there. if Matt is a generous cat, Peter is the demanding and needy one, needing to be so close it's practically on top of you. they're not having sex but surely a cuddle is fine. )

Relaxed, or late? ( it sounds like a disaster in the making, though Peter has notedly not refuted the idea at any point. he's just pointing out the potential flaws of the plan, that's all. )