[ At least they got half the money up front, which is something; maybe once Peter is feeling a little more like himself, he'll be able to negotiate a better payout.
But that's a thought for later; for now, Peter looks around the chamber, sees how wide it is in comparison, and he lets out a sharp sigh. ]
Those stupid things couldn't have just been in here, huh?
[ He follows her gaze, relieved that this time, their way out isn't a tiny crawlspace fit only for mice and roaches. And he's exhausted, which is stupid, because they've barely done anything. All they've done was walk through this dumb cave and crawl through a dumber tunnel, and yet Peter still feels like he's run fifteen marathons and then took part in a fist fight against six titans, just for fun.
Abject terror apparently takes a lot out of a guy.
He glances over at Gamora, his mask hiding the shamefaced look he gives her. All of that just now was... deeply uncool. Seriously uncool. Terribly, horribly, decidedly uncool, and now that they're more or less out of the woods, he feels that hot, bitter wash of embarrassment flushing his face. ]
[ Gamora glances to Peter, meeting the red glow of the mask. She looks taken aback, genuinely so, because… why would she share this? She understands how difficult that was for him, and she can only guess how embarrassing he would think it to be, so… why would she tell anyone? She’s never given away even a hint of the stories that he’s told her in confidence, even when he’s been drunk and babbling, because she knows how personal they are.
[ The sheer disbelief in her voice, on her face, makes him wince a little. He didn't mean for it to sound like he didn't trust her or anything, but he's reasonably sure that's probably how it came off. But— ]
I mean, I know you're not gonna tell just anyone...
[ "Not anyone," which means the same as "a select few."
And considering how few people they know on the planet or aboard the station, that narrows it down even further. ]
[ She's quiet as she processes that distinction, and her mind wanders to Rocket. Mantis, she doesn't trust enough to even consider, but she supposes that if Peter thinks she might tell someone, it would be the other Guardians. ]
It's yours to tell, not mine.
[ So if Peter thinks it's something that Rocket should know about, she'll leave that up to him. Otherwise, Gamora won't be sharing his secrets – and given that Peter hasn't told her about this fear, she assumes this would be one of them. ]
[ He sags a little, sighing with relief, head dropping with it. ]
Okay.
[ Breathed out quietly. He never planned no sharing this with anyone, because—
The Ravagers made fun of him for it. Ridiculed him mercilessly for weeks after it had happened. Peter knows the Guardians are not the Ravagers, but they share a few qualities, Peter has to admit, chief among them that love of (good-natured, usually) mockery.
And maybe the guys backed off of it more easily than the Ravagers ever did, but that initial burst of ruthless teasing until someone inevitably crossed a line, or until someone snapped – that’s what Peter wants to avoid in the first place. And a fear of small spaces? That’s bound to seem hilarious, it’s bound to seem pitiful, and it’s bad enough Peter’s already the weak link in all of this.
And it’s even worse that Gamora knows about this, and,god, this is mortifying. Like those dreams where you’re suddenly naked while giving a speech to a room full of people, or where you come to school only to realize you’re not wearing any pants.
Except this is real, and— Jesus, he can barely look at her, humiliating as this all is. ]
Can we just... [ And his voice cracks a little, but he clears his throat and forges on. ] Can we just forget this ever happened?
[ She gets it, she really does. Weakness, fear, vulnerability – while she didn’t have to worry about mockery, she understands what it’s like to try and avoid the repercussions of allowing anyone to see the cracks in an otherwise polished surface.
And considering Peter already thinks they believe he’s the weak one?
(—a flash to their fight, a reminder of shouting and—)
She doesn’t want to reinforce that. ]
If that’s what you want.
[ ... Even if part of her wants to know more about this, about why it’s so terrifying to him. ]
[ He lets out a long breath, and only the barest twitch of his head betrays the fact that he glances up at her behind his mask. ]
... Thank you.
[ And he practically whispers it.
Another deep inhale before Peter forces himself to straighten, rolling his shoulders like that might help him regain his composure (and maybe a little bit of his dignity, though he’s reasonably sure that’s long gone, today). It’s only he’s stretching out his fingers, slightly sore from how tightly he had clenched them into fists, that he realizes—
He’s still holding Gamora’s hand.
Another time, he might have smirked a little knowingly, because Gamora wouldn’t have allowed that unless she wanted to. Or maybe he would’ve jerked away like he’s been burned, babbling to avoid having to apologize. But now, he just— slowly releases her hand, giving her the opportunity to pull back, if she wants. ]
[ Gamora seems to notice again in the same moment, looking down to their joined hands. Oddly, she hadn't balked at the contact, not even now, and just... allowed it – offered it freely, as both a comfort to Peter and a way to ground him in the aftermath of the tunnel.
She's almost worried he'll rub her face in it, at first, but nothing comes. Nothing smug or some insistence about that unspoken thing – that they haven't even mentioned since their fight. She's grateful for that, because she doesn't know what to do with it, and Peter, for reasons all his own, hasn't insisted. That carries through to now.
But, instead of releasing him in turn, she keeps her own fingers gently curled around his, and then pushes herself to her feet. She holds onto Peter's hand, offering it as a way to pull himself up. ]
[ His mask hides the stunned look that crosses his face when she doesn’t let go. Things make a little more sense one she gets to her feet, still with his hand in her grasp, and he figures it was a convenience thing. She was going to help him up anyway, so why go to the effort of dropping his hand?
He takes a rallying breath before pulling himself up with Gamora’s help, and thankfully, taking those long moments to compose himself means that his legs don’t buckle beneath him again, as they had when they climbed out of the tunnel. The whole... thing has still left him shaken (and shaking, at least a little), and Peter wishes desperately that he’ll never have to see another cave like this one for the rest of his life.
There’s a dim light that illuminates these chambers, and he could probably retract his mask, but he doesn’t. That layer of obscurity feels almost comforting, given how much he’d already betrayed, and in all likelihood, he’ll keep the helmet on until they find their employer. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
look man i don't wanna make assumptions
Doubt it.
[ At least they got half the money up front, which is something; maybe once Peter is feeling a little more like himself, he'll be able to negotiate a better payout.
But that's a thought for later; for now, Peter looks around the chamber, sees how wide it is in comparison, and he lets out a sharp sigh. ]
Those stupid things couldn't have just been in here, huh?
[ That would've made things so much easier. ]
u know at this point i think ur good
[ She shakes her head, glancing back towards the broader passageway that leads directly into the space. ]
I think that’s our exit.
i am trying to be polite!!
Abject terror apparently takes a lot out of a guy.
He glances over at Gamora, his mask hiding the shamefaced look he gives her. All of that just now was... deeply uncool. Seriously uncool. Terribly, horribly, decidedly uncool, and now that they're more or less out of the woods, he feels that hot, bitter wash of embarrassment flushing his face. ]
Are you... gonna tell anyone about this?
psh who needs polite
This is no different. ]
You think I would tell people about this?
no subject
I mean, I know you're not gonna tell just anyone...
[ "Not anyone," which means the same as "a select few."
And considering how few people they know on the planet or aboard the station, that narrows it down even further. ]
no subject
It's yours to tell, not mine.
[ So if Peter thinks it's something that Rocket should know about, she'll leave that up to him. Otherwise, Gamora won't be sharing his secrets – and given that Peter hasn't told her about this fear, she assumes this would be one of them. ]
no subject
Okay.
[ Breathed out quietly. He never planned no sharing this with anyone, because—
The Ravagers made fun of him for it. Ridiculed him mercilessly for weeks after it had happened. Peter knows the Guardians are not the Ravagers, but they share a few qualities, Peter has to admit, chief among them that love of (good-natured, usually) mockery.
And maybe the guys backed off of it more easily than the Ravagers ever did, but that initial burst of ruthless teasing until someone inevitably crossed a line, or until someone snapped – that’s what Peter wants to avoid in the first place. And a fear of small spaces? That’s bound to seem hilarious, it’s bound to seem pitiful, and it’s bad enough Peter’s already the weak link in all of this.
And it’s even worse that Gamora knows about this, and,god, this is mortifying. Like those dreams where you’re suddenly naked while giving a speech to a room full of people, or where you come to school only to realize you’re not wearing any pants.
Except this is real, and— Jesus, he can barely look at her, humiliating as this all is. ]
Can we just... [ And his voice cracks a little, but he clears his throat and forges on. ] Can we just forget this ever happened?
no subject
And considering Peter already thinks they believe he’s the weak one?
(—a flash to their fight, a reminder of shouting and—)
She doesn’t want to reinforce that. ]
If that’s what you want.
[ ... Even if part of her wants to know more about this, about why it’s so terrifying to him. ]
I won’t ask, and I won’t mention it.
no subject
... Thank you.
[ And he practically whispers it.
Another deep inhale before Peter forces himself to straighten, rolling his shoulders like that might help him regain his composure (and maybe a little bit of his dignity, though he’s reasonably sure that’s long gone, today). It’s only he’s stretching out his fingers, slightly sore from how tightly he had clenched them into fists, that he realizes—
He’s still holding Gamora’s hand.
Another time, he might have smirked a little knowingly, because Gamora wouldn’t have allowed that unless she wanted to. Or maybe he would’ve jerked away like he’s been burned, babbling to avoid having to apologize. But now, he just— slowly releases her hand, giving her the opportunity to pull back, if she wants. ]
no subject
She's almost worried he'll rub her face in it, at first, but nothing comes. Nothing smug or some insistence about that unspoken thing – that they haven't even mentioned since their fight. She's grateful for that, because she doesn't know what to do with it, and Peter, for reasons all his own, hasn't insisted. That carries through to now.
But, instead of releasing him in turn, she keeps her own fingers gently curled around his, and then pushes herself to her feet. She holds onto Peter's hand, offering it as a way to pull himself up. ]
Let's get back.
no subject
He takes a rallying breath before pulling himself up with Gamora’s help, and thankfully, taking those long moments to compose himself means that his legs don’t buckle beneath him again, as they had when they climbed out of the tunnel. The whole... thing has still left him shaken (and shaking, at least a little), and Peter wishes desperately that he’ll never have to see another cave like this one for the rest of his life.
There’s a dim light that illuminates these chambers, and he could probably retract his mask, but he doesn’t. That layer of obscurity feels almost comforting, given how much he’d already betrayed, and in all likelihood, he’ll keep the helmet on until they find their employer. ]