[ Peter just goes where he’s led. Doesn’t have much choice anyway, does he? Unlike their last job together, at least Peter keeps his mouth shut this time, sits quietly in the chair Alec deposits him in, aside from a quiet rattle in his breath. He slouches in it until the back of his head sits against the top of the backrest, hand still pressed against his side. His eyes shut, and he focuses on breathing and aggressively ignoring nearly everything.
He does pretty well until he hears the trickle of water, hears Alec’s voice. ]
Screw you.
[ It must just be a kneejerk reaction, now, like Peter actually thinks the world might end if he doesn’t tell Alec to fuck off.
He pries open an eye to see the water pouring out from nowhere, pouring into nothing, and his expression pinches into something that clearly says, What in the ever-living fuck. He watches it for a long second, suspicion etched into the corner of his eyes, but eventually he reaches out, lets the water flow over his split knuckles. Seems alright in those few seconds, and reluctantly, he pushes himself up with a quiet grunt.
He cleans himself up after that, or tries his best in the spots where the barest touch makes him flinch, scrubbing off dried and drying blood. After a bit of work, he still looks like hell, and now he’s a bit damp around the edges, but there’s much less red. Easing himself back down, he lets his eyes slip shut again.
no subject
He does pretty well until he hears the trickle of water, hears Alec’s voice. ]
Screw you.
[ It must just be a kneejerk reaction, now, like Peter actually thinks the world might end if he doesn’t tell Alec to fuck off.
He pries open an eye to see the water pouring out from nowhere, pouring into nothing, and his expression pinches into something that clearly says, What in the ever-living fuck. He watches it for a long second, suspicion etched into the corner of his eyes, but eventually he reaches out, lets the water flow over his split knuckles. Seems alright in those few seconds, and reluctantly, he pushes himself up with a quiet grunt.
He cleans himself up after that, or tries his best in the spots where the barest touch makes him flinch, scrubbing off dried and drying blood. After a bit of work, he still looks like hell, and now he’s a bit damp around the edges, but there’s much less red. Easing himself back down, he lets his eyes slip shut again.
Then, with obvious reluctance, ]
… Thanks.