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It was 3:34 AM when Peter snuck in through the window, doing his absolute best to keep the beaten groaning to a minimum. He achieved… moderate success. He pulled off his mask and stumbled into bed after that. It took great restraint to stop himself from just toppling into it (lest he crush his husband). A couple of stunted wheezes later, Peter was under the bed covers. He sighed in contentment - as much as you can with a few broken bones - and the action hurt his lungs.
Typical.
"Mnh…" Harry rolled over. "Pete?"
"You caught me, honey." Despite the evident pain in his muted voice, Peter was smiling. Unfortunately, in the dim of their bedroom with his eyes squeezed shut, Harry only caught the evident pain part.
"You okay?" Harry murmured, trying to wake himself up. Peter put a hand on Harry's head and threaded his fingers through his lover's hair, trying to coax him back into sleep. It hurt a bit to position himself to do so, but it was a worthy sacrifice.
"Yeah, m'okay. Go back to sleep."
"That bad?"
Peter chuckled - ow - "You're very perceptive."
"Thank you." Harry sat up, rubbing his eye drowsily. "Pretty sure I know what that means. You patched yourself up, right? Made sure you're okay?"
Peter hadn't thought he needed to - and if he did, so what? His broken bones would keep til the morning. So, of course, his answer was, "Uhh, yeah! Yeah. 'Course."
Harry, who didn't buy that for a second, groaned, "Ughhh, Peter…" and rolled out of bed. Peter whined. "I know that tone…"
"Harry, I'm okay--"
"Do I need to start my late-night vigils again? Real 'when will my husband return from the war'-type stuff, Pete."
"I said I was okay," Peter frowned.
"Last time you said you were 'okay' like that, I woke up covered in blood because someone thought a bullet wound would 'keep'. Your exact words."
"...I mean, it did, didn't it?"
"Yeah - kept in our bedsheets . Not to mention my pajamas."