[He has to force himself keep his hands away from the bowl or spoon, trying to keep his temper actively in check. He doesn't want to stick or break anything in front of him.

Any time they fight, he folds. It's easier. It means they can function. It's all they can even do anymore. All they have is survival, and each other. Peter knows the patterns, he understands what he should be doing. What makes things easier for them.

His husband being this actively vulnerable is almost surreal now. Not when both of them have built up walls against anything that could hurt them.

His own voice is quiet, still a little sharp.]

It's a pattern, Leo. Something goes wrong, and you carry the guilt like a weight you can never let go of. Like you deserve to feel shit about it forever.

You think I don't see it? You think I don't do the same damn thing over every little thing I couldn't fix perfectly? That I couldn't predict?

[He blows out a little breath.]

I don't think this is your fault. I know it isn't. That's just... a piece of what I'm talking about.

[He runs a hand through his curls, wincing at the tender places along his scalp where he pulled his hair too hard earlier. His healing factor will get to that eventually. Right now, it's focused on the bullet wound.]