"You're lucky I fell in love with you before I found out about the weird Bette Midler obsession." Not quite as acute as some of his other ones; Peter just found it amusing, mostly.

"I sorry baby," Peter reached out, stroking his hand gently over Wade's cheek. His Wade did that, occasionally, but in this world, it was diagnosed as one of several disorders. Wade's medication was in the bathroom, neatly stacked in order next to Peter's Zoloft and Xanax.

There had only been one time Peter couldn't talk him down. They didn't talk about it.

"Is there anything else that might help?" Peter raised an eyebrow, thumb brushing over Wade's brow.