He can only watch Peter trying to rid himself of the sand, caught between bemused and transfixed. He's sure he could never tire of this, eyes crinkling as they trace every plane and curve of the man's hands. Even if he can't touch, watching Peter's far from growing old. But he can tell Peter's all too close to giving him back the control--or more accurately, giving it over for the first time. He doesn't want it, as uncharacteristic as it seems. He wants to know how Peter might seize the moment; how he would have if Adam had never interfered.

It's not exactly easy, Peter's face tipping towards his, but as long as he keeps breathing maybe he won't shake quite so much. It's even harder forcing himself to process the words, What he had been asking Peter seemed so clear, now fallen away. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore, hand brushing Peter's leg again as he tries to hold himself upright. Only seconds would find him close again, with no memory of how he got there, and Peter was still asking him questions.

Biting the inside of his lip, he reaches up, hand numb and disconnected from himself as he pushes Peter's bangs away from his eyes. "Yes," he hazards to say softly, barely putting any volume at all behind the word.