open post;

[nostalgiabomb]

( x )

Comments

boo hoo cry me a river

[animated]

[ Charlie watches as Peter hesitates for just a small moment- like he's telling himself he's not going to come over here and start shit- but of course he comes over to start shit.

Charlie just glares at him, blue eyes cold, tone sharp. ]

I have no idea what you're talking about.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His hands are clenched into fists again, nails biting into his palms, and god fucking dammit he wants to hit Charlie square in the jaw. Peter's fucking angry, angrier than he's been a long fucking time, and he's so goddamn close to flipping this table in Charlie's face. ]

Oh, shut the hell up, you fucking asshole. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

[animated]

Oh, you mean the drink? I guess I shouldn't have bothered, since you made an ass of yourself anyway.

[ At this point he's pretty much daring Peter to try and hit him.

Go ahead Peter. Give it a shot. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter is pissed, which is saying a whole fucking lot, considering how much it takes to make him angry. Rocket dismantling his ship for bomb parts served only as a minor annoyance. An insult to his manhood garnered only an aggravated, "Shut the fuck up." Even attempts on his life were about par for the course, by his reckoning, and served as a mild inconvenience.

But right now? He's had a hellish couple of weeks, bouncing between denial and need, feeling incomplete and having the missing piece right fucking there. But reaching for it meant accepting that this-- thing was right. That he doesn't get a choice.

So fuck that. And fuck you, Dad, for not sticking around to explain what the hell this is.

He doesn't need Charlie. He really doesn't. Alright, okay, that-- Incident on the rooftop was amazing, but surely it was a one-off. It didn't mean anything. And just to prove it, he spent every free moment flirting his way into beds. (He tries to ignore that he suddenly has a type when he was never picky before: Blonde. Charming. Sharp sense of humor.)

But none of it is enough. It's not enough.

He's angry. He's pissed. He's terrified. And he lashes out at the closest person.

That person happens to be Charlie.

So if the wizard would prefer not to be punched, he may want to dodge. ]

[animated]

[ Charlie is aware that he pretty much put "punch me" on his forehead in big neon letters with that one, so when Peter takes a swing at him, he was pretty much ready for it.

He's out of his chair with surprising speed- he's a little guy, has been all this life. Little guys get picked on, no matter who their family is. He's learned from a young age how to dodge a punch- and because he's feeling angry and petty and desperate, it doesn't stop there. He ducks under Peter's oncoming fist and comes up swinging himself. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He takes a fist to the jaw, teeth clamping together hard on the inside of his cheek, and-- he doesn't know what he was expecting. Maybe that Charlie would take the hit and not retaliate? But Peter was sloppy, left himself completely open, and he stumbles back, stunned.

... That hurt.

He spits out blood and thinks, This little fucker--

He also thinks, Fuck it, as he launches himself at Charlie, hoping to tackle him to the ground. ]

[animated]

[ Of all the things, Charlie was not expecting Peter to try and fucking tackle him. Peter's got him beat on sheer size, and he goes down easily, crashing painfully into a chair or two before slamming to the ground.

The next few seconds are a blur of fists and feet and half-growled, half-screamed profanities, and then Peter's presence on top of him is gone, and in the next moment, too-large hands are closing over Charlie's shoulders and hauling him to his feet. He realizes that neither Drax nor Groot has picked him up, but rather one half of the bar's pair of bouncers- the other of which must be carting Peter off.

He doesn't care enough to resist as they cart him to the door and pitch him into the street.

He's so fucking done with this whole fucked up situation. He just lays there for a moment, wondering if his life would be better if he'd never met Peter Jason Quill. (A part of him thinks, no. No it wouldn't, because you'd spend your whole life with a piece of you missing. God dammit.) ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Charlie may not resist, but Peter sure as fuck does. Because he's still itching for a fight, and he needs an outlet for all this fucking frustration that's been building up and up and up, and he's bursting like a fucking volcano. He turns on the bouncer once they're out of the bar and gets in a couple of good hits before the second bouncer grabs Peter from behind, traps Peter's arms behind him. The first bouncer gets him square in the gut, and the air flies out of Peter's lungs. Another hit across the face, and Peter tastes blood. Another hit, then another, and another, and another, and the last sends Peter spinning to the ground. The bouncers laugh quietly and head back inside.

He's too dazed to do anything but stay down, forehead pressed against the ground and blood dripping from his nose; eventually his brains stop ricocheting around enough to coalesce into one thought: Maybe attacking the big, burly bouncer with giant fists wasn't his brightest idea.

His second thought is this: Today is a bad fucking day. ]

[animated]

[ He hears Peter take a beating from the bouncers, and he winces with every blow. If he hadn't been so goddamn petty, then neither of them would be in this position.

Somehow that seems like a sorry excuse.

He rolls over, ignoring the aches in his back, and gets to his feet. He moves to where Peter lay, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder. ]

You still conscious?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Two things happen at once:

One, he's too busy breathing through his aches and pains to remember that he's supposed to be pissed. And then Charlie has his hand on his shoulder, and-- there's something instantly calming about his touch, like coming inside from playing in the snow and Mom pressing a warm mug of hot chocolate in his hands. Like sinking into bed after a long day of shooting people in the face. Like landing in a storm and listening to the rain beat out a constant rhythm on the hull. Peter sighs and thinks, oh, thank god.

Two, he jerks away, rolling onto his back and aggravating every fucking bruise from the mess that was tonight, and he bites back a moan. ]

Fuck. Don't-- don't fucking touch me, okay?

[animated]

[ He felt it- a small surge of everything is okay, and then Peter jerks away. Charlie draws his hand back like he's been burned, glaring at Peter again. ]

What the hell is your problem?

[nostalgiabomb]

Oh, fuck. Off.

[ He says it through gritted teeth, then turns onto his side to push himself up -- and he wonders for a moment if maybe staying horizontal was the better option. But it's too late now, and he gets himself to his feet.

He uses the back of his hand to wipe blood from his nose, but he just ends up smearing it across his face; he starts heading back to where the Milano is docked, which thankfully isn't too far away. ]

I'm going back to the ship. Do whatever the fuck you want.

[animated]

[ Do whatever the fuck he wants? Fine.

He's going to follow Peter. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ -- not as planned. ]

The hell are you doing?

[animated]

Following you.

I'll spell it out for you in case it escaped your notice: We. Need. To. Talk.

[nostalgiabomb]

No, we really. Fucking. Don't.


Go, I dunno-- find a library or something. Bother someone else.

[animated]

You might be perfectly content to avoid this for the rest of your life, but I'm not.

[nostalgiabomb]

Tough tits, starshine. Life's full of little disappointments.

[animated]

It is. So you'd better suck it up and realize that I'm not leaving you alone until we have a conversation.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ But what if he just-- didn't talk?

What if he just kept his mouth shut as he keyed in the airlock code for the Milano?

What if he just stayed silent as he stomped toward the medbay?

What if he did that? ]

[animated]

[ Charlie will follow along behind him, just as silent. Until they get to the medbay, and then he will shut the door behind him. ]

I had no idea you were this much of a child, Peter.

[nostalgiabomb]

Oh, I'm sorry. That must be so difficult for you.

[animated]

[ He doesn't dignify that with an answer, and instead moves around to try and catch Peter's gaze ]

What are you so afraid of?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Fuck, he's getting way too close, and Peter has to concentrate to keep that feeling at bay.

(As it is, he feels a twinge of it, uncurling hesitantly in his chest, and shit, if this keeps up--) ]

Okay, seriously, if you're gonna stick around, you need to take a goddamn step back.

[animated]

[ He swallows, taking a step back. This feeling isn't going to mean anything if they don't figure this out on their own first. ]

Now answer my question.