[ For a second, Peter’s eyes narrow, as if he suspects a trick. As if he expects Alec to somehow pull the wool over his eyes.

(Again.)

But when Alec prods at his split lip, Peter shoots him a quick glare. ]

Quit that.

[ Running on autopilot, apparently, given the absent way he says it.

He watches Alec for a few more seconds, arms crossed over his chest. It’s an olive branch, he guesses, and a hard-earned one at that – not that Peter was looking for it. Not that he even wanted the invitation to probe into Alec’s life in the first place.

He’s making an attempt, though. Peter has to concede that point, at least. ]

You know you don’t actually have to do this. We can get by just fine with this thing without either of us knowing the intimate details of the other’s life.