No stash? Roman managed to look even more confused, if that were at all possible. "Getting a little gropey here, Peter, wanna keep your hands to yourself?" he suggested as he pushed him away once more, images of their night together with Miranda jumping unbidden into his head before he could squash down the memories, never to be spoken of again. Ever. At least that's what Roman had thought until now. "Sure you got a cupcake and not a hash brownie?" he asked Peter with a shake of his head, "I'm thinking you had enough for both of us buddy," and what the hell was with the mooning stares? "Okay, I'll bare that in mind," he answered, glad that his friend wasn't about to unload his cupcakes all over him and his bed in his weirded out state.
Okay, he had two choices here. Stay put and let Peter cuddle him until whatever the hell was in his system was well and truly out or kick his ass and lock him out of the bedroom. "What the hell is up with you, Peter?" Roman asked, hoping for a little hint of which way he should turn. "Cause whatever's going on with you just ain't...you."