... no, [ he mutters, heaving a sigh as he looks at Lucina with a small, sad smile. ] No one except me.
[ and that's the thing, isn't it? he knows no one would blame him if he left. no one would tell him he's being selfish, not when his dad is waiting for him. and yet — it would be selfish to go, and selfish to stay. there's no good choice. ]
And him, probably. I mean — I know he'd be happy to have me back. But he's the Sheriff, I've told you that before, right? It's like — law enforcement. What he does is help people, save people. If anyone understands what it's like when you just want people to be safe... it's him.
Uh... that's a really good question. Let me get back to you on that.
[ that probably translates into a no — not that he dwells on it too much, or seems too bothered by the fact that his amazing come-back was so thoroughly shattered; no, he's more focused on the fact Peter's suddenly right there, unbuttoning his shirt.
he tells his heartrate to slow the hell down, and yeah... neither of them die.
he breathes out a laugh. ]
Says the guy who always wears, like, three layers, minimum. [ but his tone is fondly teasing, quiet as it is, as he shrugs the flannel shirt off and just. drops it on the ground. it's okay, it's flannel, it won't crease! ]
[ it shouldn't be this hard, not when he's already made his choice — it's a choice that will not change, no matter what Peter's decision is... because Peter is his decision.
and yet, he shivers in the cold air, allows the pang of sadness to resonate in his chest when Peter speaks of missing him, because the fact is — ]
... I'll miss him, too. A lot.
[ and there it is: his answer, one that he says unwaveringly, even though he knows its significance — he squeezes Peter's hand, meets his eyes with a look that is as hesitant as it is ready to argue.
(because truthfully? it's what he expects, for Peter to tell him no, you can't, or I'm not worth it, or any variety of responses he's already gone through in his head.) ]
Making sure you're not getting your godly ass killed!
[ is that any way to speak to your god and mentor... probably not, but right now, Stiles really couldn't care less. there is a dangerous quality to Loki's tone, a hiss that reminds him of all those action movies where there'd be rooms full of snakes, a dark room where nothing could be seen, and the only thing heard was the sound of hundreds of snakes, sliding over each other on the floor, hissing and rattling.
he can only hope that Loki moves when he lets the energy flow from his shields, light blinding everything around them for a moment as a blast of magic pulses out. ]
( it takes a moment to sink in. because, to be fair, Peter is at least 60% positive that he knew the end to this conversation before they started it. they have the chance to go home, here. it's hard to even explain how he's decided that he's not ready to go. isn't this what he's been waiting for, for more than a year? a chance to go back to his aunt and his city and everything he's ever known. Peter had almost thought, for a short moment, that he was ready to go back.
it hadn't been long. thinking of the aunt that is alone without him, about the city that needs him, it is hard to think of staying. it's also impossibly hard to think of going. he thinks there's more that he can do, here. and he couldn't have dared hope that Stiles could stay, but with the glimmer of hope that I'll miss him too offers only cements his decision more.
it's overwhelming, like air in his lungs after not breathing for years. ) You're going to stay? ( Peter assumes it is just for a little while, just until he's ready to go home after wherever this new adventure takes them. even still, it's more time, and he's surprisingly absent on rebukes as to how Stiles should go and that he shouldn't stay. it's not his choice to make, yet he almost feels boneless in the relief that this meeting is not fated to be their goodbye.
he's just not ready for a goodbye. )
You won't have to miss me. ( which is an assurance without much explanation that Peter is intending to stick around for this next page, too. he can't stay forever, his heart won't let him abandon his aunt or his city forever, but for now? he can do more good here. and knowing that Stiles is going to be here... it'd be almost impossible to convince him to leave. he can't make himself let go of Stiles' hand but his free one can land at his collar — still just a hair of hesitation there, because touching him still feels like a right he doesn't deserve, triggers fears he hasn't quite managed to shake — his smile bittersweet, a marble of sad and hopeful and relieved and joyful all at once.
of course, with the bittersweet comes the fact that the goodbye will come, sooner or later, but for now... he's too selfish to not celebrate the fact they get a little more time. )
( that answer earns a huff under his breath, because an actual laugh when they are this close feels like it might be too much. Peter is definitely navigating this particular situation with utmost caution; it's hidden in the way he just barely hesitates before everything, and anybody else? wouldn't even notice. Stiles will, but he'll also notice that hesitation is a lot shorter than it used to be. and that it isn't keeping him halfway across the room, either.
which has his heartbeat skyrocketing, too, it's just that Stiles can't hear it. it seems unfair that he doesn't know... though, then again, maybe he does. )
I'm not wearing three layers right now. ( stating the obvious, there, Parker. it's not so much a quip as it is the only thing that manages to come to his mind at the moment. there's no judgment about his shirt, since Peter is also a stupid boy, his clothes have been equally abandoned in a pile that is likely to get damp, dirty, wrinkled, and most likely a combination of all of the three. they're both awful to their poor clothing.
Peter does hesitate on undressing Stiles further, though mostly that stems from not knowing how much he wants to take off. so his hands hesitate now, as his eyes lift to catch the ones in front of him and his eyebrows lift in an unspoken question.
[ the breathless relief almost makes him dizzy — he'd been prepared for whichever decision, he'd told himself that it didn't matter what Peter had chosen, that whatever it was, he would follow. and yet, with the realization that they were given more time, more time for him to search for a way that wouldn't leave his dad alone in Beacon Hills... it is a vacuum inside his lungs, or perhaps a vacuum around him, sucking out all the oxygen before giving it back to him at once.
through the overwhelming hope, he manages to lean against Peter's hand. ]
... yeah, that was kinda the plan.
[ not to miss him, that is. when he lifts his head again, his eyes meet Peter's, solemn and serious and hopeful. he knows he'll have to spell it out, this decision he's made without so much as asking Peter about it — and yeah, maybe they should have talked about it before this. maybe they should have talked about it before he ever made any decisions at all... and yet, it's the only decision he feels he can live with. the only way he can see to keep the promise he made, all those months and months ago.
[ it's something he's been taking notes on, the kind of notes you don't write down but that are etched in permanent ink inside your head; the length of the pauses that Peter takes to touch him, the distance he keeps between them, the excuses he makes whenever the warning bells that Stiles wishes he could quieten start going off in his mind, all of those he notes with a resigned determination to one day see all of them gone.
they're not there yet, but it's better. the fact that Peter's still standing here, so close to him, is a testament to that. ]
... yeah, I noticed. [ the response is a little hoarse, like all the right words don't quite make it out, or perhaps they catch the tension that makes his breath shallower, his stomach feeling not unlike it's trying very hard to do somersaults and not quite managing it.
a second passes, then two, as Stiles simply looks at Peter — then, he moves his hand to catch Peter's, and slowly, so very slowly guide it and press it against his hip. his other hand moves up, his fingertips trailing up Peter's chest, up to his collarbone, resting there.
it's as much of a question as it is an invitation: an only if you want and a please do all at once. ]
( this is probably where Peter should start a lecture, that Stiles shouldn't stay just for him, that whatever motivates him has to be beyond what they have because it doesn't make sense to hinge your everything on one person. except, it's just not so easy to go back to that lecture anymore. not when it is someone he loves, not when he's learned and overlearned and learned again that he doesn't get to decide that for anyone. and, considering how willing he'd been to follow his last love across the earth, he can't hold it against Stiles. he understands it too well.
it's overwhelming enough to have the idea that he doesn't have to learn how to fill in the absence left behind just yet. Peter could tell himself he's ready for heartbreak all he wanted, that doesn't make it true. maybe he's supposed to make a dumb joke here, about how he could handle missing him, something, anything. instead he mutters a laugh a disbelief. the moment doesn't feel real, honestly, but the skin under his fingers is. the eyes on his are absolutely real, and ... waiting for an answer, probably. sorry. )
I've done enough missing you for a lifetime. ( he's wasted way too much of their time already. he's not going to spend any more of it pretending he wants to push Stiles away. if this is what Stiles wants? Peter isn't going to argue, especially because it turns out that is what he wants too. ) I don't know how long this will last, but as long as you are here? So am I. ( after that... well, Stiles is right that he's going to have to spell it out. because how can anyone just assume that they are worth giving up everything for?
his grip on Stiles' hands tightens, because his mind is wandering to the inevitable, he can't help himself. Peter doesn't want to ruin the revelation that they have more time with the reminder that it is limited, but lose enough people and you can't help but see the next loss on the horizon. still, as terrifying as that prospect is, he refuses to balk from the fear. the time they could have is worth everything. )
( maybe it shouldn't have taken nearly a year to grow comfortable with the idea of proximity again. then again, Peter's mind can make a very good argument for why a year is too soon. it's not that he doesn't know that Stiles trusts him. of course he does, Peter is well aware that Stiles trusts him with every part, physical and deeper still, the heart that had already been battered by Peter's uncertainties and misguided attempts to protect. in a lot of ways, that blow seems to have hurt Stiles more, the one that lingers more in muscle memory. because there's never been a time Peter has risked touching him that Stiles flinches, or shies away.
even if it would make perfect sense for him to. perfect sense to Peter, anyway, who absolutely remembers the broken bones and torn muscle as his fault, even if he hadn't meant for it to happen.
even without that, isn't it a risk? when he's capable of lifting things thirty times his weight, when he's capable of breaking a spine even in his attempts to do good, isn't it dangerous? it feels like it is, so maybe that explains the slight tremor in his hand when Stiles determinedly places it against skin. Stiles' expression is the only thing that communicates, but luckily they are both good at knowing what the other is trying to say, at least most of the time. even when they don't use their words.
Peter watches him another long moment, before he takes a breath to try and force his heartbeat back to even. it doesn't work. Stiles might even have the proof of that, his heartbeat fluttering (thundering? it feels like thunder) just under Peter's collarbone. it's not just fear that has his heart racing, though. not anymore. his hand travels the line of Stiles's hip, tracing skin along the waistband to the zipper. and it is surprisingly easy to open it, too. a few short movements and the fabric falls open, and another tug helps gravity to guide pants down. they're even, now, as soon as Stiles decides to step out of them.
this is probably where words should go, as their eyes meet again. Peter finds he does not have any, which is truly impressive. his hands are empty again, and this time the movement there isn't a tremor of fear, it's wanting to touch and just barely managing to stop himself. )
[ of course, it's not just for him — he's staying for their team, he's staying because it's helping people, because if he left the worlds in chaos he'd never forgive himself. but if those are his reasons, then Peter is more than that: more than logic, or reason, or any of that. if Hathaway is what his job is going to be, then Peter is his home — here, and after they are done saving the multiverse.
there's no question for him, hasn't been for months, now. people say love makes you do incredible things — and yet, it doesn't feel like that to him. he had died once, out of love for his dad — now, he'll leave his world behind out of love for Peter.
I don't know how long this lasts, Peter says, and Stiles can hear the doubt in his voice, the loss that he must still see as something inevitable, something postponed instead of eradicated. he breathes out, tugs their entwined hands to pull Peter closer, to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. ]
I promise, you don't have to miss me. Not here... not in New York. [ softly, he leans his forehead against Peter's.. ] I asked Lloyd, you know, months ago. If they could send me somewhere else instead of back home. He said they can. That sending two people to the same place... isn't more difficult than sending just one.
[ and because he knows Peter, knows that even that might not be enough — ] I've always wanted to see New York, anyway. [ even though the softness of his tone, the quiet smile says that what he wants to see in New York is right in front of him, right now. ]
[ fear has never made it into the equation, for him. many might argue it should have — that the shattered bones should have become more than a footnote in the memory, that there should have been concern for himself, too, not just for the person who'd ran away and left his heart shattered worse than any bones.
and yet, he's not afraid — hadn't been then, isn't now. fearing Peter has never made sense to him, not when there has never been a part of him that hasn't been fundamentally aware of the fact that Peter would never hurt him, not on purpose. never.
but he knows that out of the two of them, it is Peter who is afraid: of himself, of losing control. and so he's been careful, making sure to not push the boundaries of what Peter is comfortable with... but there are limits to it, how careful he can be, and right now, careful is the last thing on his mind. Peter's hand feels too warm against his skin, and his heart is making a good effort at trying to beat out of his chest.
stepping out of his jeans means stepping closer, close enough that Peter's hands would barely need to move to touch, close enough that he only needs to dip his head a little to place a kiss on the hollow of his throat.
yeah — words should probably go here, but just this once, Stiles is opting for actions before words, the hand that was resting on Peter's collarbone moving to cup the back of his head, fingers threading through the unruly strands of hair there as he places another kiss on the side of his throat, then another on his jawline. Peter may be able to stop himself from touching... but Stiles doesn't have that self-control, not right now.
he does, however, manage to whisper, ] Tell me to stop. [ because otherwise... he just might not. ]
( love does make you do crazy things. it makes you willing to pick up and follow to London or across worlds and anywhere in between just for the chance to be with the person you care about. it makes you willing to give up more of yourself than you ever thought possible, and remarkably, somehow you end up with more than you ever imagined. the proof of that is in the promise, the overwhelming suggestion that Stiles is willing to follow him through ALASTAIR to whatever organization they'll form next and even past that. Peter is lucky for the way Stiles' touch has him grounded, because suddenly he feels rather weightless.
it is hard to believe it's even possible, the idea that their time isn't limited to however long they're exploring and saving multiverses. he's never been brave enough to imagine that they could have more than time cleaved between worlds. it's clear that Stiles has imagined it. more than imagined, if he's talked to Lloyd about the possibility. Peter is astounded, and he wears it on his face, though he's also notably not fighting back or rejecting it. it seems impossible, yet it isn't, and moreover, Stiles wants what Peter isn't sure he could have ever braved asking.
when he finds a voice again, it's still a little faint, like he's not sure the conversation they're having is real. ) What... what about Beacon Hills? Your dad? Your friends? Your life? ( it isn't a no, and if Peter let himself be selfish he'd agree without question and admit that he desperately wants Stiles to be with him now, and later, and everything in between. he can't, though, not when there's so much to be left behind, and very likely? unable to return to.
before his slight reminder can be confused with an attempt to shy Stiles off, Peter breaks the conversation with a storm of kisses, all about as scattered as his thoughts at the moment. ) It's not that I don't... god, Stiles, I want that. I really do. I just don't want you to regret it. ( it's hard not to be afraid that it might not be worth it, in the end — that the person he loves would look back with resentment instead of pride over the choice to be together. even someone brimming with confidence would be worried, and Peter has never, ever, been that. )
( they both have been forced to practice their control, haven't they? Peter knows that pushing forward and pulling back is a hell of a lot of whiplash. maybe for awhile he even figured it'd just be easier if he stayed back, because that'd be easier on both of them. it just turns out, even when he tells himself that he can't be trusted yet (even though he has no plan on how much time needs to pass or how controlled he needs to hit), he's also incapable of not wanting to be near the guy he loves.
it's been slow, and each day he gets a little braver. this is the bravest he's been in a really long time, though, and both of them know it.
if Stiles is overwhelmed by how close he is, the same is just as true in reverse. maybe even more. his senses are always too descriptive, aren't they? and what little distance they had left is gone when Stiles takes a step closer, and it's true, he almost has to work to avoid touching him at this proximity. for a second, god, for a second? he does. and then even his resistance proves to be insufficient, hands landing on bare skin even as his breath catches in his throat at kisses in places he hasn't had touched in months.
tell me to stop. maybe he should, but he can't find the words. Peter breathes out, before his hands grip just barely at Stiles hips and holds on, keeping him close, saying without saying he does not want him to move back. if that touch wasn't invitation enough, leaning forward to press his mouth to Stiles shoulder might be. in the end, there's no need to translate touches, because it's only fair he admit the truth, even if it's obvious. )
I don't want you to. ( it's a risk, but isn't it a risk worth taking? hasn't their entire relationship been exactly that? if Stiles wants to cross that border, trusts him enough to keep drawing him closer, does it really make sense to keep him at arms length? no, because it isn't what either of them want. it doesn't mean the barriers are broken, that the fear has died a sudden and miraculous death. but it does mean that Peter is willing to try and fight past it. he'll never learn unless he allows himself the opportunity to try. )
[ She nods in response to his question, but otherwise remains silent so he can continue. Lucina's not... jealous of him. Not at all — he may have what she does not, but that's hardly reason to be envious of him. But it's hard to think of the right thing to say, when she's been so desperately trying to get back what he's contemplating leaving.
( Tried, then failed. Or maybe never had a shot in the first place. She chooses not to dwell on it now, regardless. )
She opts to sit in silence for moment or two longer. Before she swallows, and opens with a quiet— ] If he is anything like my father, he would want you to be safe as well. [ And by his side.
Not that she respected his wishes in the slightest ( she couldn't. ) ] Still — I could hardly complain if you did choose to stay. [ Just saying. Not that this makes his decision any easier, probably. ]
[ if it's not a way to speak to your mentor, it's definitely the way to speak to Loki.
there's a tension that holds the dark room, as if a single event could cause a downward spiral down into an explosion. there was a lot inside of Loki, and while he kept his more destructive impulses under lock and key, the smallest provocation was enough for possibility of explosion.
to Stiles' great luck, Loki does move. it's a slide to the side, an easy movement with the Seven League Boots on his feet. the insects coil around them, chattering in a mass of chaos.
when Loki looks at him there's a wildness to him that makes him look dangerous. ]
[ he allows himself one second to breathe out in relief when he sees that yes, Loki did move out of the way, though whatever relief is there burns out just as quickly as the energy he let loose, a flame without oxygen.
he fixes Loki with a Look, even as the expression on his... well. his friend's face, because that's what Loki is, among everything else — someone he cares about, someone he'd do just about anything for.
except let him succumb to everything that Loki kept bottled up inside him, a brewing storm ready to go out of control at any moment. ]
You think I don't know that? [ he breathes out heavily; using so much magic at once is taking its toll on him; he's not as used to it, doesn't live and breathe magic like those who have dealt with it all their lives. ]
I'm not helping you because I think it's heroic, I'm helping you because I care about you, though right now, I can't really tell why the hell I bother!
If you're staying, it'll make my staying a lot easier, you know.
[ said with a smile — he appreciates that she doesn't judge him, or at least not out loud... because he's judging himself well enough already. but he means what he says; she's come to mean a lot to him, and to be able to have her around, still, is something that makes him a little more secure in his decision.
then, ] ... what's your father like? I don't think I've heard you speak of him, before.
[ he's prepared for the surprise, for the questions — it's the kisses that catch him off guard, make him the one who blinks his eyes in astonishment before the strange feeling of a massive weight being lifted from his shoulders: they don't have to argue about this.
Peter's not telling him it's not going to work, or that he can't do it, or any number of objections he'd been prepared for. it's — he wants it. and for as much as he might have expected it (after all, he'd wanted it enough to ask Lloyd, still wanted it enough to stay, to give up his home), it still makes him grin before kissing Peter back.
then, he pulls away, because there had been questions that needed to be answered. ] Hey, hey, it's okay, I've thought it through, I swear. Beacon Hills... it'll be okay without me. Scott will be okay without me. I don't know if he told you, but — he remembers more than I do, and what he remembers is me not being there. I'm interning with the FBI, or will be, or would be, I guess —
[ god it's confusing, the timelines, the differing memories, all of it. Stiles shakes his head and continues. ] But the point is... he's okay. They're all okay without me there. I mean, I'll miss them, but... it'll be fine. And Dad, he — I asked Lloyd about that, too. If they could... bring him with me. He said they didn't have the energy, back then, but now that everything's fixed and people can go back and all — I think it might work. I'm going to make it work. Bring him to New York with us.
[ it's not that he doesn't have doubts; of course he has them. but, ultimately... ] I thought about it, Peter, I really did, and what I'd regret far more would be not coming with you. I want to be with you, okay? Here, in New York, wherever.
[ it's funny how he's never afraid of the things he should be, and yet right now, what scares him the most is the thought of doing something wrong, making Peter pull back and away — but Peter hasn't been this close to him for what feels like forever,and he's not about to waste the chance he's giving both of them to prove that it's okay, being close to each other is okay. that they can try.
because if Peter doesn't want him to stop? then he's sure as hell not going to. ]
Then — [ he shudders as Peter's mouth presses against his bare shoulder, has to take a moment to remember to breathe. ]
I won't, [ he says, though the words are more of an exhale than anything else as his hands continue to move, from the back of his neck down his spine, then resting at his hip as he keeps pressing kisses to Peter's jawline, only straying from it when he finally kisses the corner of his mouth. ]
... because I don't want to, either. [ it's only fair he say it, too, as implied as it's been, already. ]
For how easy the question should be, she has a hard time starting — her expression softening as she tries to think of the best way to put her father in the best light, because that's what he deserves ( even to people that will likely never meet him ). It's not hard to tell that he's someone important to her, anyway. ]
He was ... a kind, loyal man. Many looked up to him, and his leadership — they saw it as an honor to serve under him. Despite all the matters he handled as the Exalt, he always found time for his family, and his friends.
He was quite the swordsman as well — much of what I learned is from him. [ Until he passed away. But that's not the question she's answering. ]
( it's more than fair to expect a refusal or a fight. there's been enough of those in their relationship now for them to become predictable. and maybe a gut instinct of Peter still thinks that way — not for lack of wanting to be together, but on some deluded idea that he wasn't meant for happiness, and that Stiles shouldn't be forced to make a choice he'd regret. that part of him still exists, it's just found plenty of reasons to say silent.
Stiles expected honesty when they'd started things over in the shambles of what had been, and that's what he deserves. it'd be a horrible mockery of the truth to try and pretend Peter wanted anything less than a future together. if he was even capable of forging that lie, Peter does not bother to try. he absolutely wants to believe it is a possibility, and these days he knows it isn't so much his choice nor Stiles' choice, as much as it is theirs.
if it was what they wanted... no matter how insane, or impossible, or frightening it sounded (and it absolutely sounded all of these and more), then it was worth trying for. ) I can't... no, I can believe that you've already thought of everything, actually. ( Stiles and his 8000 plans... it makes Peter wonder what his plan A and B and C and Z were. luckily he doesn't have to scrounge for them, since plan A works just fine for Peter, too. ) I feel like a coward that I never braved thinking it could happen.
( in his world, that's just not how all this works. he loves people, and they pay for it. and, underneath the obvious comic book retribution of all his love interests dying, Peter has a hard time believing Stiles could want him that badly after all he's done. not all of his misguided voices were easily silenced. either way, Peter has gone from incapable of grappling with loss to immediately assuming any relationship he makes must prove temporary, and while that makes it easier when it comes time for the natural to occur, it feels a little dangerous to believe in the possibility of happiness all over again.
and yet here he is, believing anyway.
Peter presses their foreheads together, soaking in the thrill of a heartbeat that is still a little rapid. from fear he'd refuse? for the fact he agreed? Peter can't tell, and doesn't care. ) For the record, if you ever change your mind, I'll understand, but I make no promises about not trying to convince you not to. I can be kind of convincing. Right? ( ending that statement on a question is not... the most convincing, but in other situations, surely!!! )
( it's an impossibly difficult line to walk, wanting to be close and being terrified that he's not strong enough. or, more accurately, he's too strong. he's lifted cars, caught bullet trains, punched holes through buildings and hit the ground so hard he left a crater instead of just dying there like a normal person. more than that, Peter has seen the proof that he's strong enough to absolutely destroy, even when he would never dream of wanting to. watching it happen once had been bad enough, the second time had been like a painful wakeup call that his powers were a curse as much as a gift.
when Peter was still living on the delusion that he'd push Stiles out of his life and barely exist beyond his dedication to heroism, he was determined never to risk this kind of contact again. as good as it felt, it wasn't worth the risk. it was too selfish an indulgence. and while Peter is more than aware Stiles would love him just as much if their relationship consisted only of an occasional hand hold and a closed mouth kiss here or there, Peter doesn't want that for either of them.
it's taken awhile, and his reform is not going to be instant. but it's something he wants to learn, grows more and more determined to learn as Stiles gets closer and the reminders flood back of how badly he craves this sort of touch. he's tired of letting fear stand between them. if Stiles isn't afraid, then Peter can learn to let go of his, too. )
Oh, good. This could have gotten super awkward, otherwise, ( Peter mumbles with half a laugh, ruining the moment because of course he would, but if Stiles loves him then he loves him bad jokes and all. his hands sneak around Stiles instead of hovering at his hips, relishing in the fact they are close without allowing guilt to cloud it. Stiles catches the corner of his mouth, Peter trades that for a kiss full on the mouth. hot and painted with desperation he's felt just as long as Stiles, just gotten a lot better at ignoring. it means they're very close when he finally pauses exploring the taste of Stiles' mouth to inquire, ) Are we going to get into this spring or just make out here, because I guess I'm game either way but it'd be weird if someone walked in. Just saying.
( like it wouldn't be weird no matter what.... i hate this i hate this tag )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
➢ lucina.
... no, [ he mutters, heaving a sigh as he looks at Lucina with a small, sad smile. ] No one except me.
[ and that's the thing, isn't it? he knows no one would blame him if he left. no one would tell him he's being selfish, not when his dad is waiting for him. and yet — it would be selfish to go, and selfish to stay. there's no good choice. ]
And him, probably. I mean — I know he'd be happy to have me back. But he's the Sheriff, I've told you that before, right? It's like — law enforcement. What he does is help people, save people. If anyone understands what it's like when you just want people to be safe... it's him.
➢ peter i.
Uh... that's a really good question. Let me get back to you on that.
[ that probably translates into a no — not that he dwells on it too much, or seems too bothered by the fact that his amazing come-back was so thoroughly shattered; no, he's more focused on the fact Peter's suddenly right there, unbuttoning his shirt.
he tells his heartrate to slow the hell down, and yeah... neither of them die.
he breathes out a laugh. ]
Says the guy who always wears, like, three layers, minimum. [ but his tone is fondly teasing, quiet as it is, as he shrugs the flannel shirt off and just. drops it on the ground. it's okay, it's flannel, it won't crease! ]
➢ peter ii.
[ it shouldn't be this hard, not when he's already made his choice — it's a choice that will not change, no matter what Peter's decision is... because Peter is his decision.
and yet, he shivers in the cold air, allows the pang of sadness to resonate in his chest when Peter speaks of missing him, because the fact is — ]
... I'll miss him, too. A lot.
[ and there it is: his answer, one that he says unwaveringly, even though he knows its significance — he squeezes Peter's hand, meets his eyes with a look that is as hesitant as it is ready to argue.
(because truthfully? it's what he expects, for Peter to tell him no, you can't, or I'm not worth it, or any variety of responses he's already gone through in his head.) ]
➢ loki.
Making sure you're not getting your godly ass killed!
[ is that any way to speak to your god and mentor... probably not, but right now, Stiles really couldn't care less. there is a dangerous quality to Loki's tone, a hiss that reminds him of all those action movies where there'd be rooms full of snakes, a dark room where nothing could be seen, and the only thing heard was the sound of hundreds of snakes, sliding over each other on the floor, hissing and rattling.
he can only hope that Loki moves when he lets the energy flow from his shields, light blinding everything around them for a moment as a blast of magic pulses out. ]
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it hadn't been long. thinking of the aunt that is alone without him, about the city that needs him, it is hard to think of staying. it's also impossibly hard to think of going. he thinks there's more that he can do, here. and he couldn't have dared hope that Stiles could stay, but with the glimmer of hope that I'll miss him too offers only cements his decision more.
it's overwhelming, like air in his lungs after not breathing for years. ) You're going to stay? ( Peter assumes it is just for a little while, just until he's ready to go home after wherever this new adventure takes them. even still, it's more time, and he's surprisingly absent on rebukes as to how Stiles should go and that he shouldn't stay. it's not his choice to make, yet he almost feels boneless in the relief that this meeting is not fated to be their goodbye.
he's just not ready for a goodbye. )
You won't have to miss me. ( which is an assurance without much explanation that Peter is intending to stick around for this next page, too. he can't stay forever, his heart won't let him abandon his aunt or his city forever, but for now? he can do more good here. and knowing that Stiles is going to be here... it'd be almost impossible to convince him to leave. he can't make himself let go of Stiles' hand but his free one can land at his collar — still just a hair of hesitation there, because touching him still feels like a right he doesn't deserve, triggers fears he hasn't quite managed to shake — his smile bittersweet, a marble of sad and hopeful and relieved and joyful all at once.
of course, with the bittersweet comes the fact that the goodbye will come, sooner or later, but for now... he's too selfish to not celebrate the fact they get a little more time. )
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which has his heartbeat skyrocketing, too, it's just that Stiles can't hear it. it seems unfair that he doesn't know... though, then again, maybe he does. )
I'm not wearing three layers right now. ( stating the obvious, there, Parker. it's not so much a quip as it is the only thing that manages to come to his mind at the moment. there's no judgment about his shirt, since Peter is also a stupid boy, his clothes have been equally abandoned in a pile that is likely to get damp, dirty, wrinkled, and most likely a combination of all of the three. they're both awful to their poor clothing.
Peter does hesitate on undressing Stiles further, though mostly that stems from not knowing how much he wants to take off. so his hands hesitate now, as his eyes lift to catch the ones in front of him and his eyebrows lift in an unspoken question.
anything else? )
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through the overwhelming hope, he manages to lean against Peter's hand. ]
... yeah, that was kinda the plan.
[ not to miss him, that is. when he lifts his head again, his eyes meet Peter's, solemn and serious and hopeful. he knows he'll have to spell it out, this decision he's made without so much as asking Peter about it — and yeah, maybe they should have talked about it before this. maybe they should have talked about it before he ever made any decisions at all... and yet, it's the only decision he feels he can live with. the only way he can see to keep the promise he made, all those months and months ago.
You won't be alone anymore.
he meant it then — he means it, still.
(he'll always mean it.) ]
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they're not there yet, but it's better. the fact that Peter's still standing here, so close to him, is a testament to that. ]
... yeah, I noticed. [ the response is a little hoarse, like all the right words don't quite make it out, or perhaps they catch the tension that makes his breath shallower, his stomach feeling not unlike it's trying very hard to do somersaults and not quite managing it.
a second passes, then two, as Stiles simply looks at Peter — then, he moves his hand to catch Peter's, and slowly, so very slowly guide it and press it against his hip. his other hand moves up, his fingertips trailing up Peter's chest, up to his collarbone, resting there.
it's as much of a question as it is an invitation: an only if you want and a please do all at once. ]
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it's overwhelming enough to have the idea that he doesn't have to learn how to fill in the absence left behind just yet. Peter could tell himself he's ready for heartbreak all he wanted, that doesn't make it true. maybe he's supposed to make a dumb joke here, about how he could handle missing him, something, anything. instead he mutters a laugh a disbelief. the moment doesn't feel real, honestly, but the skin under his fingers is. the eyes on his are absolutely real, and ... waiting for an answer, probably. sorry. )
I've done enough missing you for a lifetime. ( he's wasted way too much of their time already. he's not going to spend any more of it pretending he wants to push Stiles away. if this is what Stiles wants? Peter isn't going to argue, especially because it turns out that is what he wants too. ) I don't know how long this will last, but as long as you are here? So am I. ( after that... well, Stiles is right that he's going to have to spell it out. because how can anyone just assume that they are worth giving up everything for?
his grip on Stiles' hands tightens, because his mind is wandering to the inevitable, he can't help himself. Peter doesn't want to ruin the revelation that they have more time with the reminder that it is limited, but lose enough people and you can't help but see the next loss on the horizon. still, as terrifying as that prospect is, he refuses to balk from the fear. the time they could have is worth everything. )
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even if it would make perfect sense for him to. perfect sense to Peter, anyway, who absolutely remembers the broken bones and torn muscle as his fault, even if he hadn't meant for it to happen.
even without that, isn't it a risk? when he's capable of lifting things thirty times his weight, when he's capable of breaking a spine even in his attempts to do good, isn't it dangerous? it feels like it is, so maybe that explains the slight tremor in his hand when Stiles determinedly places it against skin. Stiles' expression is the only thing that communicates, but luckily they are both good at knowing what the other is trying to say, at least most of the time. even when they don't use their words.
Peter watches him another long moment, before he takes a breath to try and force his heartbeat back to even. it doesn't work. Stiles might even have the proof of that, his heartbeat fluttering (thundering? it feels like thunder) just under Peter's collarbone. it's not just fear that has his heart racing, though. not anymore. his hand travels the line of Stiles's hip, tracing skin along the waistband to the zipper. and it is surprisingly easy to open it, too. a few short movements and the fabric falls open, and another tug helps gravity to guide pants down. they're even, now, as soon as Stiles decides to step out of them.
this is probably where words should go, as their eyes meet again. Peter finds he does not have any, which is truly impressive. his hands are empty again, and this time the movement there isn't a tremor of fear, it's wanting to touch and just barely managing to stop himself. )
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there's no question for him, hasn't been for months, now. people say love makes you do incredible things — and yet, it doesn't feel like that to him. he had died once, out of love for his dad — now, he'll leave his world behind out of love for Peter.
I don't know how long this lasts, Peter says, and Stiles can hear the doubt in his voice, the loss that he must still see as something inevitable, something postponed instead of eradicated. he breathes out, tugs their entwined hands to pull Peter closer, to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. ]
I promise, you don't have to miss me. Not here... not in New York. [ softly, he leans his forehead against Peter's.. ] I asked Lloyd, you know, months ago. If they could send me somewhere else instead of back home. He said they can. That sending two people to the same place... isn't more difficult than sending just one.
[ and because he knows Peter, knows that even that might not be enough — ] I've always wanted to see New York, anyway. [ even though the softness of his tone, the quiet smile says that what he wants to see in New York is right in front of him, right now. ]
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and yet, he's not afraid — hadn't been then, isn't now. fearing Peter has never made sense to him, not when there has never been a part of him that hasn't been fundamentally aware of the fact that Peter would never hurt him, not on purpose. never.
but he knows that out of the two of them, it is Peter who is afraid: of himself, of losing control. and so he's been careful, making sure to not push the boundaries of what Peter is comfortable with... but there are limits to it, how careful he can be, and right now, careful is the last thing on his mind. Peter's hand feels too warm against his skin, and his heart is making a good effort at trying to beat out of his chest.
stepping out of his jeans means stepping closer, close enough that Peter's hands would barely need to move to touch, close enough that he only needs to dip his head a little to place a kiss on the hollow of his throat.
yeah — words should probably go here, but just this once, Stiles is opting for actions before words, the hand that was resting on Peter's collarbone moving to cup the back of his head, fingers threading through the unruly strands of hair there as he places another kiss on the side of his throat, then another on his jawline. Peter may be able to stop himself from touching... but Stiles doesn't have that self-control, not right now.
he does, however, manage to whisper, ] Tell me to stop. [ because otherwise... he just might not. ]
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it is hard to believe it's even possible, the idea that their time isn't limited to however long they're exploring and saving multiverses. he's never been brave enough to imagine that they could have more than time cleaved between worlds. it's clear that Stiles has imagined it. more than imagined, if he's talked to Lloyd about the possibility. Peter is astounded, and he wears it on his face, though he's also notably not fighting back or rejecting it. it seems impossible, yet it isn't, and moreover, Stiles wants what Peter isn't sure he could have ever braved asking.
when he finds a voice again, it's still a little faint, like he's not sure the conversation they're having is real. ) What... what about Beacon Hills? Your dad? Your friends? Your life? ( it isn't a no, and if Peter let himself be selfish he'd agree without question and admit that he desperately wants Stiles to be with him now, and later, and everything in between. he can't, though, not when there's so much to be left behind, and very likely? unable to return to.
before his slight reminder can be confused with an attempt to shy Stiles off, Peter breaks the conversation with a storm of kisses, all about as scattered as his thoughts at the moment. ) It's not that I don't... god, Stiles, I want that. I really do. I just don't want you to regret it. ( it's hard not to be afraid that it might not be worth it, in the end — that the person he loves would look back with resentment instead of pride over the choice to be together. even someone brimming with confidence would be worried, and Peter has never, ever, been that. )
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it's been slow, and each day he gets a little braver. this is the bravest he's been in a really long time, though, and both of them know it.
if Stiles is overwhelmed by how close he is, the same is just as true in reverse. maybe even more. his senses are always too descriptive, aren't they? and what little distance they had left is gone when Stiles takes a step closer, and it's true, he almost has to work to avoid touching him at this proximity. for a second, god, for a second? he does. and then even his resistance proves to be insufficient, hands landing on bare skin even as his breath catches in his throat at kisses in places he hasn't had touched in months.
tell me to stop. maybe he should, but he can't find the words. Peter breathes out, before his hands grip just barely at Stiles hips and holds on, keeping him close, saying without saying he does not want him to move back. if that touch wasn't invitation enough, leaning forward to press his mouth to Stiles shoulder might be. in the end, there's no need to translate touches, because it's only fair he admit the truth, even if it's obvious. )
I don't want you to. ( it's a risk, but isn't it a risk worth taking? hasn't their entire relationship been exactly that? if Stiles wants to cross that border, trusts him enough to keep drawing him closer, does it really make sense to keep him at arms length? no, because it isn't what either of them want. it doesn't mean the barriers are broken, that the fear has died a sudden and miraculous death. but it does mean that Peter is willing to try and fight past it. he'll never learn unless he allows himself the opportunity to try. )
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( Tried, then failed. Or maybe never had a shot in the first place. She chooses not to dwell on it now, regardless. )
She opts to sit in silence for moment or two longer. Before she swallows, and opens with a quiet— ] If he is anything like my father, he would want you to be safe as well. [ And by his side.
Not that she respected his wishes in the slightest ( she couldn't. ) ] Still — I could hardly complain if you did choose to stay. [ Just saying. Not that this makes his decision any easier, probably. ]
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there's a tension that holds the dark room, as if a single event could cause a downward spiral down into an explosion. there was a lot inside of Loki, and while he kept his more destructive impulses under lock and key, the smallest provocation was enough for possibility of explosion.
to Stiles' great luck, Loki does move. it's a slide to the side, an easy movement with the Seven League Boots on his feet. the insects coil around them, chattering in a mass of chaos.
when Loki looks at him there's a wildness to him that makes him look dangerous. ]
You're no hero.
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he fixes Loki with a Look, even as the expression on his... well. his friend's face, because that's what Loki is, among everything else — someone he cares about, someone he'd do just about anything for.
except let him succumb to everything that Loki kept bottled up inside him, a brewing storm ready to go out of control at any moment. ]
You think I don't know that? [ he breathes out heavily; using so much magic at once is taking its toll on him; he's not as used to it, doesn't live and breathe magic like those who have dealt with it all their lives. ]
I'm not helping you because I think it's heroic, I'm helping you because I care about you, though right now, I can't really tell why the hell I bother!
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[ said with a smile — he appreciates that she doesn't judge him, or at least not out loud... because he's judging himself well enough already. but he means what he says; she's come to mean a lot to him, and to be able to have her around, still, is something that makes him a little more secure in his decision.
then, ] ... what's your father like? I don't think I've heard you speak of him, before.
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Peter's not telling him it's not going to work, or that he can't do it, or any number of objections he'd been prepared for. it's — he wants it. and for as much as he might have expected it (after all, he'd wanted it enough to ask Lloyd, still wanted it enough to stay, to give up his home), it still makes him grin before kissing Peter back.
then, he pulls away, because there had been questions that needed to be answered. ] Hey, hey, it's okay, I've thought it through, I swear. Beacon Hills... it'll be okay without me. Scott will be okay without me. I don't know if he told you, but — he remembers more than I do, and what he remembers is me not being there. I'm interning with the FBI, or will be, or would be, I guess —
[ god it's confusing, the timelines, the differing memories, all of it. Stiles shakes his head and continues. ] But the point is... he's okay. They're all okay without me there. I mean, I'll miss them, but... it'll be fine. And Dad, he — I asked Lloyd about that, too. If they could... bring him with me. He said they didn't have the energy, back then, but now that everything's fixed and people can go back and all — I think it might work. I'm going to make it work. Bring him to New York with us.
[ it's not that he doesn't have doubts; of course he has them. but, ultimately... ] I thought about it, Peter, I really did, and what I'd regret far more would be not coming with you. I want to be with you, okay? Here, in New York, wherever.
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because if Peter doesn't want him to stop? then he's sure as hell not going to. ]
Then — [ he shudders as Peter's mouth presses against his bare shoulder, has to take a moment to remember to breathe. ]
I won't, [ he says, though the words are more of an exhale than anything else as his hands continue to move, from the back of his neck down his spine, then resting at his hip as he keeps pressing kisses to Peter's jawline, only straying from it when he finally kisses the corner of his mouth. ]
... because I don't want to, either. [ it's only fair he say it, too, as implied as it's been, already. ]
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For how easy the question should be, she has a hard time starting — her expression softening as she tries to think of the best way to put her father in the best light, because that's what he deserves ( even to people that will likely never meet him ). It's not hard to tell that he's someone important to her, anyway. ]
He was ... a kind, loyal man. Many looked up to him, and his leadership — they saw it as an honor to serve under him. Despite all the matters he handled as the Exalt, he always found time for his family, and his friends.
He was quite the swordsman as well — much of what I learned is from him. [ Until he passed away. But that's not the question she's answering. ]
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Stiles expected honesty when they'd started things over in the shambles of what had been, and that's what he deserves. it'd be a horrible mockery of the truth to try and pretend Peter wanted anything less than a future together. if he was even capable of forging that lie, Peter does not bother to try. he absolutely wants to believe it is a possibility, and these days he knows it isn't so much his choice nor Stiles' choice, as much as it is theirs.
if it was what they wanted... no matter how insane, or impossible, or frightening it sounded (and it absolutely sounded all of these and more), then it was worth trying for. ) I can't... no, I can believe that you've already thought of everything, actually. ( Stiles and his 8000 plans... it makes Peter wonder what his plan A and B and C and Z were. luckily he doesn't have to scrounge for them, since plan A works just fine for Peter, too. ) I feel like a coward that I never braved thinking it could happen.
( in his world, that's just not how all this works. he loves people, and they pay for it. and, underneath the obvious comic book retribution of all his love interests dying, Peter has a hard time believing Stiles could want him that badly after all he's done. not all of his misguided voices were easily silenced. either way, Peter has gone from incapable of grappling with loss to immediately assuming any relationship he makes must prove temporary, and while that makes it easier when it comes time for the natural to occur, it feels a little dangerous to believe in the possibility of happiness all over again.
and yet here he is, believing anyway.
Peter presses their foreheads together, soaking in the thrill of a heartbeat that is still a little rapid. from fear he'd refuse? for the fact he agreed? Peter can't tell, and doesn't care. ) For the record, if you ever change your mind, I'll understand, but I make no promises about not trying to convince you not to. I can be kind of convincing. Right? ( ending that statement on a question is not... the most convincing, but in other situations, surely!!! )
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when Peter was still living on the delusion that he'd push Stiles out of his life and barely exist beyond his dedication to heroism, he was determined never to risk this kind of contact again. as good as it felt, it wasn't worth the risk. it was too selfish an indulgence. and while Peter is more than aware Stiles would love him just as much if their relationship consisted only of an occasional hand hold and a closed mouth kiss here or there, Peter doesn't want that for either of them.
it's taken awhile, and his reform is not going to be instant. but it's something he wants to learn, grows more and more determined to learn as Stiles gets closer and the reminders flood back of how badly he craves this sort of touch. he's tired of letting fear stand between them. if Stiles isn't afraid, then Peter can learn to let go of his, too. )
Oh, good. This could have gotten super awkward, otherwise, ( Peter mumbles with half a laugh, ruining the moment because of course he would, but if Stiles loves him then he loves him bad jokes and all. his hands sneak around Stiles instead of hovering at his hips, relishing in the fact they are close without allowing guilt to cloud it. Stiles catches the corner of his mouth, Peter trades that for a kiss full on the mouth. hot and painted with desperation he's felt just as long as Stiles, just gotten a lot better at ignoring. it means they're very close when he finally pauses exploring the taste of Stiles' mouth to inquire, ) Are we going to get into this spring or just make out here, because I guess I'm game either way but it'd be weird if someone walked in. Just saying.
( like it wouldn't be weird no matter what.... i hate this i hate this tag )