She's a patient person, after all, and she has no need to interrupt him, especially when this is exactly what they need to say to each other — this clarification, this extrapolation of a long-standing, nearly exhausting run-around they've continued to do with this thing between them. They've danced along the boundaries of it for so long that it's become this humming uncertainty that feels like a live wire, ready to shock them both with just a touch.
But now, here they are, grabbing a hold of that wire and waiting for the electricity and not caring.
At first, she braces herself. She doesn't entirely know what Peter will say; she has her suspicions, her hopes, and though Mantis had gone ahead and said so much for him months ago, that hadn't been... clear enough ("romantic, sexual love" could have meant any number of things with Peter, and she'd needed to hear it from him). But as he continues on, that tension starts to ease, bit by bit, and she lets the words spill out of him. He seems to be growing progressively more uncertain, and she can't blame him with how exposed he's made himself, how open he's being with something potentially catastrophic, something that is so personal and sensitive.
She understands his anxiety, and instead of interpreting his fumbles or the set of his shoulders or the bow of his head as a tell, as a lie, she reads it for what it is: nervous vulnerability.
Honesty.
Sincerity.
Hope?
Gamora remains quiet, parsing through everything he's said. She feels that warm curl in her chest light itself all over again, making her heart flutter as she considers him from her own bed. Of all the things Peter could have said, this is what she most wanted to hear.
Another moment, and then Gamora is pushing the blankets away from her legs. Moving is somewhat difficult, if only because of how stiff her muscles feel after days in that hospital bed, but she manages to get to her feet, to walk the few steps from her own mattress to Peter's. ]
Move over.
[ She nudges him slightly, because she wants a place to sit before she properly addresses everything he's just dropped into her lap. ]
no subject
She's a patient person, after all, and she has no need to interrupt him, especially when this is exactly what they need to say to each other — this clarification, this extrapolation of a long-standing, nearly exhausting run-around they've continued to do with this thing between them. They've danced along the boundaries of it for so long that it's become this humming uncertainty that feels like a live wire, ready to shock them both with just a touch.
But now, here they are, grabbing a hold of that wire and waiting for the electricity and not caring.
At first, she braces herself. She doesn't entirely know what Peter will say; she has her suspicions, her hopes, and though Mantis had gone ahead and said so much for him months ago, that hadn't been... clear enough ("romantic, sexual love" could have meant any number of things with Peter, and she'd needed to hear it from him). But as he continues on, that tension starts to ease, bit by bit, and she lets the words spill out of him. He seems to be growing progressively more uncertain, and she can't blame him with how exposed he's made himself, how open he's being with something potentially catastrophic, something that is so personal and sensitive.
She understands his anxiety, and instead of interpreting his fumbles or the set of his shoulders or the bow of his head as a tell, as a lie, she reads it for what it is: nervous vulnerability.
Honesty.
Sincerity.
Hope?
Gamora remains quiet, parsing through everything he's said. She feels that warm curl in her chest light itself all over again, making her heart flutter as she considers him from her own bed. Of all the things Peter could have said, this is what she most wanted to hear.
Another moment, and then Gamora is pushing the blankets away from her legs. Moving is somewhat difficult, if only because of how stiff her muscles feel after days in that hospital bed, but she manages to get to her feet, to walk the few steps from her own mattress to Peter's. ]
Move over.
[ She nudges him slightly, because she wants a place to sit before she properly addresses everything he's just dropped into her lap. ]