pullmeoutalive | Ramey

Recognized me. [ Somehow, even barely voiced, he manages to weave a touch of accusation into his voice. His hand twitches toward the closest Kree, still unconscious (dead? Peter doesn't know which. Doesn't care, if he's honest). ]

Knew who I was.

[ which, like, never happens, no matter how infamous Peter felt his call sign might be.

It seems a logical conclusion, at least to him. Alec wanders off on his own. Peter gets nabbed for being himself. Which must mean Alec ratted him out.

Logic.

Peter gives up on the idea of being upright for now, his shaking arms collapsing beneath him, letting himself fall back to the floor. At least the tile is blessedly cool against his face. And, really, sleeping probably wouldn't be the worst thing he's done today; blackness waits at the edge of his vision, tempting and welcoming and standing with wide, open arms. ]

[ Alec's gaze flicks from the Kree to Peter, and he has to take some mighty leaps in logic to figure out just what Peter means. ]

You ever think I'm not the only person at this party who remembers your face, asshole?

[ He's ready to argue further, but Peter hits the floor with a wet-sounding thwap, and Alec starts. That sense of distress coils in his chest again, gnawing, gnashing. ]

Quill?

[ He nudges Peter with a foot, though that doesn't seem to do much. He crouches, hands on the other man's shoulders as he rolls Peter onto his back. ]

Hey. Hey! Don't fucking pass out on me. I'm not carrying your sorry ass back to the ship!

[ He's just drifting off as Alec turns him, and the movement jars him back into consciousness, pulls a strained noise from the back of his throat as he settles onto his back. ]

That hurt.

[ Then, not too long after that, ]

Fuck you.

[ Apparently that's just his instinctual response to Alec, by now; there's little heat behind the words as he dutifully recites them.

But he's awake, mostly, despite every desire to the contrary. He wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, lets his arm fall across his middle. His suit is a fucking mess, and maybe in a little while, he'll mourn its passing. (He liked this suit. He likes everything he wears.) Now, though, it feels restricting, like he can't quite get a good breath of air into his lungs.

Or maybe that's because of that weird, echo of a sensation just behind his sternum. Cold and barbed and yawning with a mouth full of teeth. He brings up both hands to his brow, digs the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees stars.

... Doesn't know what compelled him to do that, though, because that fucking hurt (everything fucking hurts), and he jerks one of his hands away from his face. ]

Shit.

Sorry. It was either that or let you pass out, and I already said I'm not gonna carry your dumb ass.

[ He jerks his head a little- Peter's face is a mess, and just watching that hurt. ]

Still wanna bitch at me or can we get out of here?

Fuck you.

[ Has he said that yet? He feels like he hasn't.

Part of him still doesn't trust this asshole, but considering Peter hardly thinks he can stand on his own right now, much less walk, he'll have to take what he can get.

He takes a few breaths, as deep as his body allows, as deep as that cold, coiling thing in his chest lets him, and he reaches out toward Alec. ]

Gimme a hand.

You keep saying that. The answer is no and it's always gonna be no.

[ But he'll take that last part as a "yes, let's get out of here" and that weird gnawing in his chest seems to ease a little. He brushes it off as frustration over this whole thing going tits up, and stands to offer Peter a hand. ]

Try not to bleed on me.

[ Just for that, Peter decides he's going to bleed all over him on principle.

It's an effort, but the two of them manage to get Peter to his feet, though he stumbles once he gets there, legs trying to buckle beneath him. He has to grab on to Alec to regain his equilibrium. That alone is mortifying and infuriating enough, and Peter mumbles a half-hearted, ]

Sorry.

[ Peter also probably gets blood on Alec's sleeve.

He does not say sorry for that.

He presses a hand against his ribs, his other arm draped over Alec's shoulders, has to lean on him for support far more than he wants to. ]

Get anything? [ because talking about work is better than wandering the mansion halls in stony silence. A distraction, at the very least. Otherwise Peter might resort to childish insults regarding Alec's person. ]

[ For a moment he thinks he really is going to have to carry Peter, and that's not something either of them want. This is too much already, but they're left with little by way of choices.

He slings Peter's arm over his shoulders, looping his own arm around Peter's back to support him. He's got him well in hand enough now, but if the going gets too rough, he always has his Enhancements to fall back on.

The apology is noted but passes without remark. The blood on Alec's sleeve also goes without remark, because he just wants to get out of here. ]

Not much. Found some consoles but didn't manage to get far.

You?

[ A quiet, noncommittal noise at the back of his throat. ]

'Parently Mansoon's breeding racing Swerzogs.

[ So, you know, a whole lot of nothing. They trek onward in silence before Peter makes a scoffing noise, angry and frustrated. ]

Didn't get shit out of this, did we.

[ Alec falls quiet for a beat or two. Something bitter rises in the back of his throat, frustration, yes, but the fact that this was a bust means that this mission is going to drag on longer, and that’s not a thought he wants to entertain.

His eyes flick to the little side hallway from where he had previously come, and he runs his tongue over his lower lip in thought. ]

We might be able to salvage this, but that depends. Did those two assholes tell anyone else you were here?

[ He gives a little shake of his head, hissing in a breath when he takes too large of a step. ]

No, I don’t think—

[ He frowns a little, thinking back on it. Then, with more certainty, ]

No. They were just about to, but…

[ He trails off, then makes a small noise at the back of his throat, as if to say, You know. After another pause, ]

Someone tipped them off. [ With his head on a little straighter now, he knows it’s unlikely it was Alec. Still, that little pang of mistrust sounds in him – aimless, this time. ] Dunno who.

[ He slows them both to a stop, going over the possibilities. He imagines that whoever threw Peter under the bus was keeping a close eye on him, and probably saw him get nabbed by Beavis and Butthead back there, so it’s safe to assume they’re out of play for the moment.

And since the two Kree didn’t get as far as telling anyone else they had a prisoner, it’s also safe to assume they’re not expecting any more company up here for a while. ]

Think you can hold out long enough for me to take another crack at those computers?

Just go.

[ No hesitation. He doesn’t want to go back to the ship empty-handed, especially not if it means they’ll have to start from scratch on this stupid fucking job. ]

Won’t have a another chance at this. I’ll be fine. [ Because he’s a stubborn ass, and he refuses to be the one holding them back. ]

Hurry.

[ He’s already moving as soon as Peter says “just go”, redirecting them to the side hall, and tapping into his Enhancements to better guide Peter along quickly. He shoves the office door open with a shoulder, bringing them both inside.

Peter gets carefully lowered into the second desk chair, then Alec turns to lay a few basic wards around the door- soundproofing, mostly, but a small fire spell as well, in case someone barges in. They won’t get another shot at this and time is of the essence, but a little caution can go a long way, as well.

Alec plops into the remaining chair, and turns to set to work, but something makes him hesitate. Something tugging at the back of his head, and he glances back over at Peter. The guy looks like he got the shit kicked out of him, and just looking at him makes Alec ache.

Sometimes, he really wishes he knew how to turn off basic human empathy.

The wizard etches a mark in the air, and a small stream of water trickles down from the mark, pouring from an invisible vessel, collecting in an invisible bowl in the air at Peter’s chest. ]

Clean yourself up. You look like shit.

[ With that, he turns to his work, doing his best to ignore the sensation that this is dangerous, and not just because they might get caught. ]

[ 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.

Then, with obvious reluctance, ]

… Thanks.

[ Alec focuses on the computer as Peter cleans himself off- he’d rather focus on work any day, but especially now with Peter in such close proximity. As he stares at the screen, the beginnings of a headache begin to bloom behind his eyes, mild aches settling in his limbs. He finds that odd, but only in passing. Usually he has to really work his Enhancements to feel sore so soon after, but this whole job has been nothing but stressful, so it’s probably catching up to him a lot faster.

At Peter’s thanks, he gives a quiet grunt of acknowledgement, lifting one hand from the keyboard. The water evaporates away, the dampness of Peter’s skin and the edges of his clothes going with it. ]

[ It’s the barest of changes, the damp edges of his sleeves and collar drifting away, but it makes Peter tense all the same, sends a quick lance up his side when he does that makes him flinch and hiss in a breath. He brings a hand to his throat, feels along the collar and finds it dry, and he scowls. ]

Was that you? [ But without waiting for an answer, ] Don’t just friggin’ do that.

[ His head twinges painfully, and he screws his eyes closed until it passes. Just a little more- he’s found his way into Mansoon’s itinerary, and this might give them the lead they need. He’s not gonna let a little headache get in his way. ]

Sorry. Didn’t really finesse that.

[ Then, ]

I think I’ve got her schedule.

[ That catches his attention, and he sits up a little, a hand still pressed tightly against his side. ]

Actual schedule, or like, her kissing babies schedule?

[ … or was that just a politician thing, the kissing babies shtick? Oh, who cares. ]

Anything good?

Actual schedule.

[ He falls quiet again, save for the muted sounds of his fingers on the keyboard. A lot of it is pretty low-end stuff, meetings with dealers, a couple of shake downs of local businesses. Not anything they’re interested in, in the long run.

But then he catches sight of the name he’s been looking for the whole while- Grun. He grins and moves the whole thing over onto his datastick. ]

She’s got a meeting with Grun in a couple of weeks. I’ve got the particulars.

[ He swivels in his chair to face Quill, that grin still in place. ] Ready to get out of here?

Well, ‘least one of us is havin’ a good time.

[ Grumbled, though without too much bitterness. It’s a step forward, at least – and an itinerary is a lot more than they had just ten minutes ago.

He grits his teeth, and although his pride stings a little with it (but what doesn’t sting right now, anyway?), he reaches out his free hand again. ]

Gonna need a little help.

[ He retrieves his datastick from the computer, pocketing it before closing everything out and making sure the machine was as he found it. That done, he stands and takes Peter’s hand. Inexplicably sore and tired as he is, something in him eases as he does. Whatever’s left of the knot of teeth and dread uncoils in his chest, melting away. It’s a small relief, but it’s there.

In the moment, he just figures he’s glad to have something solid, and to finally be done with this place.

He drapes Peter’s arm over his shoulders as before, shoving the chair back under the desk it belongs to with his foot and waving the wards away with his free hand. ]

Is there a way out that doesn’t lead us back downstairs?

[ He grunts to acknowledge the question, mulling over the hastily memorized floorplans in his head as Alec helps him get to his feet, stepping in to take his weight. He’s not sure if it’s time or the little snippets of rest, but the ache of his injuries is a little less sharp, a little less grating. Not gone, but the bite has been curbed. Gives him a chance to further clear his head.

Unconsciously, he leans into Alec, letting out a quiet breath. ]

Lots of windows. Couple balconies. [ A little wryly, though drowsily, and definitely not the best of ideas, climbing down the side of the house, given the state of him. Still options. ]

Patio. Attached to the master bedroom. [ A quick twitch of his head toward the back of the house. ] Stairs to the garden.

Room might be locked.

Hm. [ He mentally goes over each of the options, looping his free arm around Peter’s waist to keep him steady as they exit the little office and take to the halls again. The party and therefore the security are focused on the grand hall at the front of the estate, so-- ]

Back of the house is probably the best bet.

[ There’s a little bit of his usual smugness in his voice when he adds, ] I can handle a locked door.

Smug asshole.

[ Again, he says it more by rote than with any real feeling. He’s not sure if it’s their imminent escape that’s making him relax bit by bit, but it’s happening all the same.

They stumble through the halls together. Peter focuses on putting one foot in front of another, trying to shove off the drowsy feeling that’s filling his head like cotton. At least Alec’s presence at his side is something of a comfort. Means he won’t fall flat no his face at a misstep.

Thankfully, they reach the back of the house without incident; with the party still in full swing, security is likely lurking around on the first floor, at the staircases. The door, though, is locked, as Peter predicted. ]

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