[ Alec vaguely wonders if his apparent nonchalance bothers Peter. The other man is obviously struggling, angry and twitchy and anxious, like that ring around his neck is literally choking him. Alec is no different, but he’s had a very long time to learn how to take the nasty and unwanted things and shove them very far away, locking them behind heavy steel doors of indifference and sarcasm.
It’s still there, the feeling of suffocation, of a guillotine looming above their heads, liable to drop at any moment and do them both in, he just hides it better.
Ultimately, he doesn’t care if it bothers Peter, because he doesn’t care about Peter. He can’t care about Peter, because giving just the slightest inch is as good as throwing open the gates, and he refuses to share himself with someone like that. Not after what happened to his dad.
So they play nice just long enough to get in the door, long enough to get a good look at the room, and apparently long enough for Peter to grab a drink. ]
no subject
It’s still there, the feeling of suffocation, of a guillotine looming above their heads, liable to drop at any moment and do them both in, he just hides it better.
Ultimately, he doesn’t care if it bothers Peter, because he doesn’t care about Peter. He can’t care about Peter, because giving just the slightest inch is as good as throwing open the gates, and he refuses to share himself with someone like that. Not after what happened to his dad.
So they play nice just long enough to get in the door, long enough to get a good look at the room, and apparently long enough for Peter to grab a drink. ]
I’m good.
[ He casts Peter a sideways glance. ]
Try not to drink too much.
[ Read: do not fuck this up. ]