[ It stings all the same, the way she answers, and his jaw ticks in response, hands gripping the glass in front of him a little tighter.
And even when she apologizes, he still knows he deserved it. This is-- a shitty thing that he's putting all of them through, and for months he's beaten himself up for getting stupid and getting caught. (And that's not even including the way some of the Ravagers are still cornering him and literally beating him up.)
But what's done is done, he would tell himself, and Yondu's already got his grubby mitts on him. What other option does he have?
(You could run, says a traitorous voice. You could fight.
No, says the reasonable voice, the one that enjoys the path of least resistance. It's easier this way. No one will get hurt like this.
Coward, says the traitorous voice, and it falls silent.)
Peter leans forward on the bar top, rests his forehead in a hand. ]
It's just-- it's seriously not a good idea.
[ Which is rich, coming from a guy who once thought singing "O-o-h Child" at a guy wielding a planet-destroying gem was a good plan. But the fire in his words from a couple months ago is gone, as is the panicked, adamant voice in his head screaming, Protect her, and he just sounds exhausted.
God, he just wants to go home (and funny how his ship used to just be a ship, when now it's home). And he feels selfish as fuck for thinking that, when he should be thinking about this noble thing he's doing to keep Kasumi and the others out of Yondu's sights. But he just wants to sleep in his own bunk and get a good night's rest. He doesn't want to worry about rough hands grabbing his arms and sliding over his mouth to keep him from yelling. He doesn't want to worry about getting hauled out of bed for another session of Whale on Yondu's Pet Terran.
And he wonders how it is that he did this for twenty-six years. Sure, the nightly rounds of getting the tar beat out of him are new, but aside from that, it's more or less the same. And not even six months in, and he feels like he's at the end of his rope. It was nice, he thinks, having people who gave a shit about him, however begrudgingly, having people who helped him dress his wounds and force him to take it easy. It was nice, he thinks, hearing Kasumi's voice on his comms or in his ear. It was nice, he thinks, having soft hands and softer lips pressed against his. It was nice, he thinks, having a family to come back to.
Spoiled, he thinks, and he laughs quietly, joylessly. Soft.
He speaks after a few moments of silence, his voice small and hollow. ]
He'll just keep comin', you know. He'll keep comin' and comin', and eventually work isn't gonna cut it. Eventually he's gonna want blood. It's just the way of things.
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And even when she apologizes, he still knows he deserved it. This is-- a shitty thing that he's putting all of them through, and for months he's beaten himself up for getting stupid and getting caught. (And that's not even including the way some of the Ravagers are still cornering him and literally beating him up.)
But what's done is done, he would tell himself, and Yondu's already got his grubby mitts on him. What other option does he have?
(You could run, says a traitorous voice. You could fight.
No, says the reasonable voice, the one that enjoys the path of least resistance. It's easier this way. No one will get hurt like this.
Coward, says the traitorous voice, and it falls silent.)
Peter leans forward on the bar top, rests his forehead in a hand. ]
It's just-- it's seriously not a good idea.
[ Which is rich, coming from a guy who once thought singing "O-o-h Child" at a guy wielding a planet-destroying gem was a good plan. But the fire in his words from a couple months ago is gone, as is the panicked, adamant voice in his head screaming, Protect her, and he just sounds exhausted.
God, he just wants to go home (and funny how his ship used to just be a ship, when now it's home). And he feels selfish as fuck for thinking that, when he should be thinking about this noble thing he's doing to keep Kasumi and the others out of Yondu's sights. But he just wants to sleep in his own bunk and get a good night's rest. He doesn't want to worry about rough hands grabbing his arms and sliding over his mouth to keep him from yelling. He doesn't want to worry about getting hauled out of bed for another session of Whale on Yondu's Pet Terran.
And he wonders how it is that he did this for twenty-six years. Sure, the nightly rounds of getting the tar beat out of him are new, but aside from that, it's more or less the same. And not even six months in, and he feels like he's at the end of his rope. It was nice, he thinks, having people who gave a shit about him, however begrudgingly, having people who helped him dress his wounds and force him to take it easy. It was nice, he thinks, hearing Kasumi's voice on his comms or in his ear. It was nice, he thinks, having soft hands and softer lips pressed against his. It was nice, he thinks, having a family to come back to.
Spoiled, he thinks, and he laughs quietly, joylessly. Soft.
He speaks after a few moments of silence, his voice small and hollow. ]
He'll just keep comin', you know. He'll keep comin' and comin', and eventually work isn't gonna cut it. Eventually he's gonna want blood. It's just the way of things.