[ he lets out a long breath, trying to force out some of the tension settling into his neck and back. ]
Yeah. Same here.
[ On all of those counts, really, and the fact that Gamora could get laid out just as easily as Peter had been by this weird disease or infection or whatever it was – that's worrying as hell. ]
It hit you pretty hard, though. [ A touch of concern in his voice. ] Whatever that was.
[ She can hear the concern edging into his voice, and though she isn't offended by it, it prickles against something of her own (maybe it just reminds her of how unsettling it is to find herself so... weak). ]
I want to know why Cryon had that in his warehouse.
[ She frowns at the wall instead of looking over at Peter, rather than truly acknowledge that worry. ]
[ Even if she isn’t looking at him, Peter still shrugs a shoulder. ]
I dunno. Byproduct, maybe? Some weird leftover from whatever crap he was manufacturing? People stumble on weird shit all the time by accident. Like penicillin.
[ —that is definitely an Earth-specific example, and Peter frowns for a second before pressing on. ]
We dunno what it was that hit us, is what I’m saying.
[ Unless the Nova Corps wants to insist that they were too reckless and that's why they ended up infected.
The idea makes her lip curl.
But soon, the nurse is back with a tray and a jug of water, along with two cups filled with ice. She pulls over a small table to set it on, then smiles at them both. ]
Is there anything else you need to be more comfortable?
[ Gamora shakes her head, already reaching for the water to pour some for the both of them. ]
[ Peter takes the glass with a nod of gratitude, and at her words, offers a quiet hum of agreement but little else. It goes without saying, he figures, that he would prefer the same.
(He hates being in hospitals. It stirs something cold and nervous in him, makes it a little hard to catch his breath, leaves him a little nauseated and shaken.
The sooner they get out, the better.)
He gulps down the water; even with the IV, he’s still feeling parched, and he hopes it’ll help soothe his headache. He glances up when Gamora speaks again, and he hesitates for a second. ]
You don’t, uh. You could— you know. [ He pauses, shifting over a little. ] Plenty of room.
[ ... there really isn’t, honestly, but there’s room enough, if Peter rolls onto his side. ]
What? [ With an overblown sort of incredulity. ] No way. It’s plenty of space.
[ He drains the last of his water, setting the glass aside on a nearby table, and maneuvers himself onto his side, tucking his arm beneath his head. With his free hand, he gestures almost expansively. ]
[ A small smile curls at her lips, and though she hides it with the lip of her glass, it lights in her eyes. ]
Mm, you have a point.
[ She finishes her own water, leaving her glass on the table near Peter's as she draws her legs up properly onto his bed. She readjusts to crawl into the newly offered place, and though she probably could fit herself into all of it by laying on her back, she lays onto her side, her face level with Peter's. ]
It's bigger than the Milano's bunk, at least.
[ She reaches out, resting her palm tentatively on the hinge of his jaw. ]
Good different, of course, now that that shadow isn't looming over them anymore, and holy shit, is he relieved for that. Her touch is gentle, and he reaches up, pressing her palm a little more firmly against his jaw. And that stupid, dumb smile comes back in full force. ]
[ She doesn't think to pull her hand away as he offers that reassuring contact, that demonstration that her touch is welcome, and that small smile hasn't disappeared as she brushes her thumb over the curve of his cheek. ]
It's not a criticism; those bunks were clearly made for one person.
[ And despite that, she'd been relieved to share that small space with Peter after the cave-in (in fact, the fact that there was so little additional room was probably a comfort; she could have Peter right there). ]
[ He almost ruins the moment by mentioning that he has, in fact, figured out how to accommodate at least two other people on that bunk. Up to four, even, although the fourth person was about the size of a suitcase.
But that is, uh. Not a good conversation right now. Or ever?
... Let's go with ever. ]
Maybe.
[ A bit of a concession, at least, and he shifts to get more comfortable. ]
[ He has a point, if nothing else, but she finds herself thoroughly derailed by the way he looks at her – intent, focused – and the tone of his voice is somehow unfamiliar.
(How often does she really hear something so genuinely uncertain? It's unguarded and downright vulnerable.)
She doesn't even need to think about her answer. ]
Yes.
[ It comes so naturally, too, because— she wants him to kiss her.
And the fact that he asks is so much more in his favor. He could have assumed (and he would have been correct), but giving her that agency and the option to turn him down warms something in her chest. She's appreciated that about him for longer than she's truly realized, and now, she fully understands what he's given her by asking first.
[ He grins again, unrestrained and bright and god, he must look so doofy, so stupid, but he can't help it.
His hesitancy leaves him in a rush, and when she offers her permission, he closes the space between them, his lips pressed to hers in a chaste little kiss. Not his style, but probably more hers, and he's more than happy with it. ]
[ She appreciates the kiss, the gentleness of it, because the reality is that there will be time for more intense kisses later; they can do this over and over again, as much as they please, at a later date and in a better setting. While the kissing may not necessarily be new, the context is, and that's her current focus. That's why this matters.
She sighs softly, that small, warm smile in place when he pulls away. She brushes her thumb over his cheek again, then leans up to press her lips against his forehead, murmuring into his hair, ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She nods, willing to carefully move beyond the question for the moment. ]
I assumed it had been no more than a day – two, at the most. I would have thought my modifications could have handled it sooner.
[ The fact that it took five days for both of them still bothers her.
Actually, the fact that the toxin was apparently so potent it acted before her mods could intervene is also disconcerting. ]
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Yeah. Same here.
[ On all of those counts, really, and the fact that Gamora could get laid out just as easily as Peter had been by this weird disease or infection or whatever it was – that's worrying as hell. ]
It hit you pretty hard, though. [ A touch of concern in his voice. ] Whatever that was.
no subject
I want to know why Cryon had that in his warehouse.
[ She frowns at the wall instead of looking over at Peter, rather than truly acknowledge that worry. ]
no subject
I dunno. Byproduct, maybe? Some weird leftover from whatever crap he was manufacturing? People stumble on weird shit all the time by accident. Like penicillin.
[ —that is definitely an Earth-specific example, and Peter frowns for a second before pressing on. ]
We dunno what it was that hit us, is what I’m saying.
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If it was a byproduct or something accidental, do you think the Nova Corps would consider the information restricted enough to brief us personally?
[ Which is her biggest concern. ]
Or perhaps they have as little information as we do, and they simply want to fill in the blanks.
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Alright. Fair point.
[ He shuts his eyes, rubbing at his brow again. ]
What a shitty power move, though. Playing the "it's classified" card, if all they wanna do is interrogate us.
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[ Unless the Nova Corps wants to insist that they were too reckless and that's why they ended up infected.
The idea makes her lip curl.
But soon, the nurse is back with a tray and a jug of water, along with two cups filled with ice. She pulls over a small table to set it on, then smiles at them both. ]
Is there anything else you need to be more comfortable?
[ Gamora shakes her head, already reaching for the water to pour some for the both of them. ]
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We'll be alright. Thanks.
[ He lets his eyes shut for all of a second before he quickly adds, ]
And can we leave the door unlocked, this time?
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Of course. Someone will be in to check on you in the next few hours and run some additional labs.
[ Gamora doesn't look pleased with the news, but she doesn't verbally complain as the nurse sees herself out, gently closing the door behind her.
Fortunately, it doesn't lock again. ]
Water?
[ He may not technically need it thanks to his IV, but it's also not a terrible idea to have something more to drink. ]
no subject
But he relaxes again, glancing over at Gamora as she speaks. He gives a quick little nod and carefully maneuvers himself up to sit.
(He probably should've asked for painkillers, he realizes as his aching body protests the movement, as his head pounds.
But hindsight is 20/20.) ]
On the bright side— [ He forces himself to sound chipper. ] —at least the room service has been quick.
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I would trade the room service for returning to the ship.
[ Though the timeframe could be much worse; hours instead of days would be bearable.
Sipping again at her water, she adds,]
Tell me when you want to go back to sleep. I can move.
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(He hates being in hospitals. It stirs something cold and nervous in him, makes it a little hard to catch his breath, leaves him a little nauseated and shaken.
The sooner they get out, the better.)
He gulps down the water; even with the IV, he’s still feeling parched, and he hopes it’ll help soothe his headache. He glances up when Gamora speaks again, and he hesitates for a second. ]
You don’t, uh. You could— you know. [ He pauses, shifting over a little. ] Plenty of room.
[ ... there really isn’t, honestly, but there’s room enough, if Peter rolls onto his side. ]
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Are you sure? This bed is small.
[ But the fact that she's asking if he's certain means she wants to stay there; she just cares about his comfort enough to check first. ]
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[ He drains the last of his water, setting the glass aside on a nearby table, and maneuvers himself onto his side, tucking his arm beneath his head. With his free hand, he gestures almost expansively. ]
See? Lots of room.
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Mm, you have a point.
[ She finishes her own water, leaving her glass on the table near Peter's as she draws her legs up properly onto his bed. She readjusts to crawl into the newly offered place, and though she probably could fit herself into all of it by laying on her back, she lays onto her side, her face level with Peter's. ]
It's bigger than the Milano's bunk, at least.
[ She reaches out, resting her palm tentatively on the hinge of his jaw. ]
no subject
Different.
Good different, of course, now that that shadow isn't looming over them anymore, and holy shit, is he relieved for that. Her touch is gentle, and he reaches up, pressing her palm a little more firmly against his jaw. And that stupid, dumb smile comes back in full force. ]
How 'bout we don't knock my ship, huh?
[ that is his baby. ]
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It's not a criticism; those bunks were clearly made for one person.
[ And despite that, she'd been relieved to share that small space with Peter after the cave-in (in fact, the fact that there was so little additional room was probably a comfort; she could have Peter right there). ]
You should rest longer, don't you think?
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But that is, uh. Not a good conversation right now. Or ever?
... Let's go with ever. ]
Maybe.
[ A bit of a concession, at least, and he shifts to get more comfortable. ]
You gonna sleep at all?
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[ Echoing him, shifting enough on her side to reach out with her other hand and brush mussed curls from his forehead. ]
I won't have much else to do if you're sleeping.
[ Though that hasn't stopped her from keeping herself awake before.
Mostly, she just finds it soothing to be near him, and sleep comes so much more effortlessly at his side. ]
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Gonna be boring for you once I pass out. Might as well sleep, too.
[ He licks his lips, studying her face for a few seconds. When he speaks, his voice is— almost timid, the words careful and slow. ]
Hey, um. Can I... kiss you goodnight?
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(How often does she really hear something so genuinely uncertain? It's unguarded and downright vulnerable.)
She doesn't even need to think about her answer. ]
Yes.
[ It comes so naturally, too, because— she wants him to kiss her.
And the fact that he asks is so much more in his favor. He could have assumed (and he would have been correct), but giving her that agency and the option to turn him down warms something in her chest. She's appreciated that about him for longer than she's truly realized, and now, she fully understands what he's given her by asking first.
... But the answer is still a wholehearted yes. ]
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His hesitancy leaves him in a rush, and when she offers her permission, he closes the space between them, his lips pressed to hers in a chaste little kiss. Not his style, but probably more hers, and he's more than happy with it. ]
G'night, Gamora.
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She sighs softly, that small, warm smile in place when he pulls away. She brushes her thumb over his cheek again, then leans up to press her lips against his forehead, murmuring into his hair, ]
Goodnight, Peter.