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[nostalgiabomb]

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[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. ]

[animated]

I want you to understand something about me, Peter. I don't pretend. I don't lie to myself.

I have no idea why- but I need you. I feel like half a person when you're not around.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Jesus, this guy doesn't beat around the bush, does he? Peter winces again, and some phantom thing wraps around his ribs, uncomfortable but not painful. He grips his shirt and tries to breathe through it, feels heat flickering in his chest, warm but not hot.

But Peter does lie; he does pretend. So he tells himself this feeling isn't pleasant. He pretends that it doesn't mean anything. The rooftop -- that was a fluke. The light -- some stupid biological quirk.

That-- that feeling of completeness--

-- Just some stupid daydream after meeting another human after decades and decades of separation.

He wipes blood away from his upper lip, sniffs as the bleeding from his nose slows to a trickle.

It's just too fucking bad his lies to himself are so fucking obvious. ]

... Yeah.

[ It's a sorry excuse for an admission, to be sure, but it's hard won against the icy panic and denial pooling in his gut. He can't bring himself to look up from the floor, though; anything more than that one word feels like too much. ]

[animated]

[ He had no idea he was tense until Peter makes that small admission, gives just that little bit of ground. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and takes half a step closer ]

We should probably get you cleaned up.