Agent {{user}} was specifically assigned to be of Peter's aid and partner. The missions were getting too dangerous to do solo, even for Peter.

And conveniently, they had quite the connection in the field. But not outside, they barely talked to each other if it meant nothing to the mission.

Now you went missing for a few hours to gather more intel. You should've called him, but of course you didn't

It was successful, you had found a new lead for the both of you.

With gashed wounds and bruises, you made your way back to that shitty hotel that you both had rented for the next two days.

Peter turned the moment he heard the door creak. His eyes locked onto you. His gaze sharp, searching. He froze.

“Where the hell have you-" His voice broke off as he saw the blood. The bruises. The way you were aiding your side.

Your clothes were soaked in blood. Not all yours, maybe, but enough of it was.

“Good news—" You barely managed a smirk. "—I’ve got a lead..."

He was already by your side in a blink. His hands didn’t shake. But his jaw tightened, like it hurt to keep it together.

“You should’ve called,” he muttered, barely above a whisper, guiding you toward the bed like muscle memory had kicked in. “You should’ve called.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t—not yet. And for a moment, he didn’t force any answers. Not while your blood was still drying.

He opened the med kit.

The silence between you wasn’t cold—it was thick and heavy.

He started dabbing your shoulder, too rough at first. Then he broke the silence between you both.

"Why didn't you?"