[ He kneels beside him, sitting as close as he dares (he seriously just wants to touch him, to make sure he's there, warm and alive), afraid that actually touching him might hurt him. ]
Let me handle this. Captain's orders.
[ At least it's starting to feel like he's making headway with these stupid ropes, and that's something. If he can get his hands free, then he can figure out a way to get the fuck out of here, then they can get Charlie to a hospital, then they can have really amazing hurray-we-didn't-die sex. In that order. (Honestly, the pained sounds Charlie was making, the way he seemed to have lost consciousness -- they scare Peter in a way he seriously never thought possible, and he's more than happy with just getting to the hospital bit.)
But the best plans never survive contact with the enemy, and soon enough the doors slam open. Peter's quick to shift away, put some space between the two of them -- one of the first things Yondu taught him was to never get attached, how attachment can be turned against you like a knife. If nothing else, it's better to not show it, right?
One Kree stands alone in the doorway, and his gaze flicks between Peter and Charlie, assessing them, then settles on Charlie. Peter knows Charlie's the easier target right now, and since the Kree looks pissed, he probably wants a punching bag. But Peter's in a better place to put up a fight, so-- ]
What happened to your buddies, huh? [ The Kree bares his teeth, gaze darting to Peter. Good, that's it. ] Thought there were more of you ugly Smurf bastards. What, did they go home to mama to get their boo-boos kissed?
[ The Kree stalks toward them, and Peter saws more earnestly at the ropes, keeping his eyes locked with the alien. ]
Guessin' you're another one of those dickwads who supported Ronan, huh? Wanted him to win? Pretty pissed I vaporized his ass, right? Man, you should've seen him. Screamed like a fucking bitch, then, poof, like a cloud of smoke--
[ The Kree is snarling at this point, practically upon them, and suddenly the blade cuts through the rope. Peter yanks his wrists from their bindings, twists the box cutter in his hand and slams it into the Kree's side--
The Kree blinks, unfazed. He pulls the box cutter from his torso and drops it, and it lands on the floor with a clatter. ]
Well. [ Peter swallows hard. ] Shit.
[ He's hauled up by his throat and flung across the room, his back slamming into crates and pallets that topple around him. He has a moment to think, This was a bad idea, and before he can even get himself up on all fours, the Kree is kicking him in the ribs -- in exactly the wrong spot. Peter can't even find the breath to scream, and all he can see is white, and god, god, it fucking hurts and he just wants to curl up or barf or something but the Kree is kicking him again, and all Peter can manage is a sharp gasp.
And then the Kree is pushing him onto his back, and then there's a boot pressing down on his throat, and he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe. He tries desperately to push him off, to overbalance him, kicking and shoving and pushing, reaching out to grasp something, anything, he can use as a weapon and finding nothing. Fuck, fuck, fuck, blackness is starting to edge into his vision, his chest is burning, lungs screaming for air, and god, he's going to die, isn't he? He's going to die gasping, and his strength is leaving him, arms falling to his sides, and he tries to find Charlie, because this is all Peter's fault, they're both fucking screwed because Peter can't fucking use his head, and he wants to tell him how fucking sorry he is. ]
oh my god this is so fucking long sorry
[ He kneels beside him, sitting as close as he dares (he seriously just wants to touch him, to make sure he's there, warm and alive), afraid that actually touching him might hurt him. ]
Let me handle this. Captain's orders.
[ At least it's starting to feel like he's making headway with these stupid ropes, and that's something. If he can get his hands free, then he can figure out a way to get the fuck out of here, then they can get Charlie to a hospital, then they can have really amazing hurray-we-didn't-die sex. In that order. (Honestly, the pained sounds Charlie was making, the way he seemed to have lost consciousness -- they scare Peter in a way he seriously never thought possible, and he's more than happy with just getting to the hospital bit.)
But the best plans never survive contact with the enemy, and soon enough the doors slam open. Peter's quick to shift away, put some space between the two of them -- one of the first things Yondu taught him was to never get attached, how attachment can be turned against you like a knife. If nothing else, it's better to not show it, right?
One Kree stands alone in the doorway, and his gaze flicks between Peter and Charlie, assessing them, then settles on Charlie. Peter knows Charlie's the easier target right now, and since the Kree looks pissed, he probably wants a punching bag. But Peter's in a better place to put up a fight, so-- ]
What happened to your buddies, huh? [ The Kree bares his teeth, gaze darting to Peter. Good, that's it. ] Thought there were more of you ugly Smurf bastards. What, did they go home to mama to get their boo-boos kissed?
[ The Kree stalks toward them, and Peter saws more earnestly at the ropes, keeping his eyes locked with the alien. ]
Guessin' you're another one of those dickwads who supported Ronan, huh? Wanted him to win? Pretty pissed I vaporized his ass, right? Man, you should've seen him. Screamed like a fucking bitch, then, poof, like a cloud of smoke--
[ The Kree is snarling at this point, practically upon them, and suddenly the blade cuts through the rope. Peter yanks his wrists from their bindings, twists the box cutter in his hand and slams it into the Kree's side--
The Kree blinks, unfazed. He pulls the box cutter from his torso and drops it, and it lands on the floor with a clatter. ]
Well. [ Peter swallows hard. ] Shit.
[ He's hauled up by his throat and flung across the room, his back slamming into crates and pallets that topple around him. He has a moment to think, This was a bad idea, and before he can even get himself up on all fours, the Kree is kicking him in the ribs -- in exactly the wrong spot. Peter can't even find the breath to scream, and all he can see is white, and god, god, it fucking hurts and he just wants to curl up or barf or something but the Kree is kicking him again, and all Peter can manage is a sharp gasp.
And then the Kree is pushing him onto his back, and then there's a boot pressing down on his throat, and he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe. He tries desperately to push him off, to overbalance him, kicking and shoving and pushing, reaching out to grasp something, anything, he can use as a weapon and finding nothing. Fuck, fuck, fuck, blackness is starting to edge into his vision, his chest is burning, lungs screaming for air, and god, he's going to die, isn't he? He's going to die gasping, and his strength is leaving him, arms falling to his sides, and he tries to find Charlie, because this is all Peter's fault, they're both fucking screwed because Peter can't fucking use his head, and he wants to tell him how fucking sorry he is. ]