Under normal circumstances, Peter is a fussy sleeper. He twists and turns in his sheets, kicks at blankets if he gets too warm and wakes up at the drop of a hat even if he falls right back to sleep shortly after. These are not normal circumstances. The elder Spider-Man hasn't so much as twitched since he was brought to the infirmary at the cafe to treat his hypothermia.

When Peter Parker finally rouses it's not with a jolt but with a sluggish groan. He doesn't know where he is immediately, though his enhanced senses are quick to hone in on people murmuring quietly about doses, blankets, meals, and fluids enough that he begins to put together he's in a hospital of some kind. Or at least, a medical station.

It takes a few minutes for him to process that though. There's a lingering confusion he hasn't quite shaken. When he sits up it's slow and jerky. The first thing he thinks of is Miles, his fellow Spider-Bro. Thankfully the other is asleep on the cot next to his and he's breathing properly again. His relief is palpable, shoulders sagging.

"Jeez. I really....blew it, huh."