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[nostalgiabomb]

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[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.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He doesn't bother to hide the way he relaxes once Charlie moves away. It takes him a quick second to compose himself again, and when he finally does, he spreads his hands, musters all of the bravado he can. ]

I'm not afraid of anything, alright? So stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Freud.

[animated]

Yes you are. Every time I get close to you, you panic.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ -- shit. ]

Don't know if you managed to forget already, Endora, but there wasn't much panicking when we fought, earlier.

[animated]

And what do you call what just happened like ten seconds ago?

[nostalgiabomb]

What, I can't be concerned that you'll try to take another swing at me?

[animated]

[ Charlie gives him a flat look.

And takes a big step towards Peter. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ fuck fuck what the fuck is he doing--

Peter tries to put distance between them and only succeeds in walking straight into the bulkhead, and he bites out a curse--

And that warmth grows, twists and spins in his chest, coils up into his throat-- ]

Get the fuck away from me. [ It's half-choked out, but it doesn't have any of the same sharpness as before. ]

[animated]

[ He doesn't move any closer, but neither does he move away ]

See? You're panicking.

[ And for a moment, he just looks... sad, because it shouldn't be this way. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He flinches when he sees that expression on Charlie's face, and guilt mixes in with that weird cocktail of emotions swirling in him.

Peter still doesn't know how to explain whatever the fuck this is. He doesn't have a name for it, doesn't have any reasoning for it. All he knows is that there's a significance here he doesn't want to face.

Thirty-five fucking years old, and he's as terrified now as he was when he was a kid, sitting outside Gramps' cabin in the middle of the night, scared of what could be out there.

He has no goddamn clue what to say, so he stares at the flooring and waits. Maybe if he waits long enough, the guy will just-- leave. ]