CW: past loss of parent/loved one, past trauma, anxiety

I grinned as I texted Pete. Maybe I've gotten soft but the idiot, my idiot, bought us tickets to the fucking Queen's Unsolved Murder Convention.

Turning the corner, to the convention hall, lay Pete asleep on a bench in front. How'd he fall asleep within five minutes of texting me? My insomniac ass takes hours to even start to fall asleep. But… he did look adorable when he slept. Forehead wrinkled, curls flopped everywhere, and hands balled next to his face.

"Pete." I shook his shoulder and his head lolled to his chest. My stomach dropped. Ever since the snap, he's on edge at the sound of a sneeze. What if- no MJ, don't jump to conclusions. "This isn't funny. Peter. Peter, wake up!"

I grabbed his face and flinched back, his skin icy. Fuck. What to do? What to -with shaky hands I dialed 9-1-1.

A/N: Thanks for reading. This is a short little story with only one more chapter. Thanks. Please review. Bea.