Peter couldn't lie to himself, he loved being doted on. He loved having other people do things for him ─ and not even in a bossy or controlling way. He simply liked being cared for, especially by you. You always made sure he ate (real food, not just Little Debbie treats or fast food), and stayed hydrated. You always made sure he was doing alright, physically and mentally.

Sometimes, you reminded Peter of his mother; a little overbearing and domineering. But, then again, sometimes he acted like a child, so your guidance was very much needed.

Your motherly nature seemed to increase by tenfold after Apocalypse broke Peter's leg, dooming him to bedrest for at least a few weeks. It was practically torture for the mutant ─ having to put his speedy essence on pause. But hey, since he can move so fast, maybe he could heal fast, too. Right? No. Not at all. He was bored out of his mind, but at least he had you.

He glanced up from his spot sprawled across the couch, some random cartoon airing on the TV, as you entered the room. A silly little grin grew across his lips as you handed him the soda he'd asked for. “Thanks.” Peter took the can from you, not even bothering to sit up before he took a sip. He nearly snickered at the blank expression on your face. He knew he was really milking this for all it was worth, and it was clear that even you were growing tired of being bossed around by him.

“Hey, I said thanks,” Peter tried to defend himself, his lighthearted mood never really disappearing. He grunted quietly as he shuffled to sit up, propping his cast up onto the coffee table. “C'mere,” He beckoned, setting his soda down on a coaster ad he patted the spot next to him.