pullmeoutalive | Ramey

[ One foot in front of the other, he tells himself. He has to trust Alec is doing shit to minimize their presence, because Peter sure as hell doesn't have a mind to do it, himself. Wasn't much his style, anyway; he liked leaving a mark, back when his work drifted more into the darker side of grey. Like leaving signs that said, "Star-Lord was here."

... Figuratively.

... ... Sometimes literally.

(It wasn't nearly as impactful as he had hoped.)

The stairs prove a little more difficult, and with his free hand, he hangs onto the railing with a white-knuckled grip, teeth gritted against his discomfort. He nearly doesn't hear the question, or at least doesn't comprehend it, but eventually it settles, and he tenses at Alec's side. ]

I—

[ absolutely fucking did.

And I'm still not super convinced that you wouldn't right now, if you had to. ]

... wasn't thinking straight. [ is what he decides on, because it's a valid reason. The best lies are those that come from grains of truth, after all, and the excuse he gives comes out relatively smoothly. ] Panic. Concussion.

[ He clears his throat, easing himself down to the next step. ] You know how it is.

[ Normally, he’d be a little bothered by that explanation, logical though it is, but right now he can’t seem to find even a spark of indignity in him. He’ll be the first to admit that this partnership went south very fast, through no real fault of their own, but it still didn’t make for a great working relationship.

He lets out a soft noise, an exhalation of air through his nose. ]

If I really wanted to make you miserable, I know about a million other ways to do that than letting some cotton candy motherfuckers beat the shit out of you.

[ A length beat of silence, then, ]

If that was meant to, like, reassure me, then, uh.

I mean, A for effort, but...

[ Another amused little laugh, barely more than a huff of air. ]

I do what I do to screw people over, but only a certain type of people, and you don’t fit the bill. Besides, it’s not your fault the universe dealt us both a shitty hand, so taking it out on you would be pointless.

Also, your buddies would murder me if I let anything happen to you.

[ He breathes out a laugh of his own. ]

I get what you're saying, but hypothetically speaking, it's not like I would've been the first person with dangerous friends you messed with. They can't be that much of a deterrent.

There’s a difference between someone I’m trying to mess with and someone I’m trying to work with.

I’m— [ there’s a pause as he helps guide Peter down the last couple of steps. They stop there for a few to let Peter catch his breath before moving into the garden. If he remembers right, there should be a gate nearby. He picks up the thread of their conversation once they start moving again ] –I’m very particular about choosing my business partners, and usually they’re people that I would both never want to piss off and would never have to work against.

Edited (brackets!!) 2016-11-02 17:13 (UTC)

[ He makes a noncommittal noise at first, letting that stand in response as they make their way to the exit. His strength is flagging, he thinks, made worse by this weird feeling of comfort flowing through him. A quiet sort of contentment, like slipping under the covers of his bed after a long day of work.

It's probably that familiar sort of shutdown, when his mind knows they're almost scot-free,tells his body that it's welcome to clock out for the evening. ]

All this to say, "I didn't narc on you"?

[ Alec is ready to put this whole mess behind him. He’s ready to kick off his shoes and crawl into bed, and just the thought sends a lazy little wave of warmth rolling through him.

He would shrug in response to Peter’s remark, but considering he currently has Peter’s arm draped across his shoulders, he makes a little “eh” noise instead. He’s not usually so open about his business practices, but given how convoluted their whole situation has become, he’d rather set the record straight. ]

I just figure you should know where I’m coming from. Things kind of went to hell before you could get a sense of how I work.

Not for lack of trying.

[ He says it a little pointedly, flicking a sidelong glance Alec's way. ]

Pretty sure I've been askin' you this whole friggin' time to just talk to me.

[ A beat. ]

Till, you know. [ He clears his throat, looks away awkwardly. ] Recently.

[ He doesn’t see that look, focused as he is on guiding them along, but he certainly does feel it. And… all right, he was really obtuse about this whole thing from the get-go, so that’s on him. It’s been a while since he partnered up with anybody for anything and he was clinging a little too hard to his secrets. ]

Sorry. After a while, I forget what it’s like to be on a team.

"The less people know about me, the easier it is for me to do my job."

[ It's a passable imitation of Alec's intonation. Not as practiced as his impression of his teammates, but enough to get the point across. ]

Did your other teams deal with that BS, too?

[ Now he looks at Peter, one eyebrow quirking up at the impression. He’s not sure if he should be annoyed or impressed, but he can’t find much annoyance in him, so he settles for the latter. ]

Only other team I had were the guys who trained me, so… not really.

[ He snorts a little. ]

Well. Maybe don't pull that shit again when you're supposed to be teaming up with other folks. Doesn't exactly set a good tone.

[ Wryly, ]

I’ll keep that in mind.

[ They move along through the garden until they reach one of the walls. Alec guides them along for a bit longer until they come across a gate- electronic lock like the bedroom door, probably to monitor comings and goings of the grounds keeping staff. Why else keep a lock on the inside? ]

Wanna call for a pickup while I work on this? Then we’ll be home free.

[ He pushes off again, supporting himself against the wall as Alec sets to work on the lock.

The call is short and sweet – bring the car around – and a heads up to the team that they're on their way back.

(get the good painkillers, please.) ]

Car's meeting us on the side.

[ Alec works the lock in the same way he did the first one, and once he carefully gathers Peter up again, they slip through the gate and away from the manor altogether. Alec barely stops himself from breathing a sigh of relief; carefully tugging Peter closer to make sure he’s in no danger of slipping from his grip and crashing onto the pavement.

They wait for their ride in an oddly comfortable sort of silence- so much so that Alec has to check to see if Peter’s finally passed out. Once the car arrives and the two of them are safely nestled inside, the ride passes in much of the same way.

Once they get back to the ship, it’s Drax who helps Peter out of the car, who takes him up and inside, presumably depositing in whatever passes for a medbay on the small vessel. That leaves Alec to his own devices, which suits him fine. He hands over the data to Rocket and heads straight for the shower. The hot water does a little to soothe his aches and clear his head, but the soreness still kind of lingers.

Naturally, he wanders into the medical area for some painkillers, and catches a glimpse of Peter there. ]

How’s the rib?

[ It slips out, probably out of some misguided sense of sympathy for the guy, though he knows they should go back to avoiding each other. Peter definitely got the worst part of this night, and he can’t help but feel kind of bad for the guy. ]

[ His focus slips in and out as they make their way back – not quite the gentle embrace of unconsciousness, as much as he'd like it, but something close to it. Enough that the trip is mostly a painful sort of blur, rather than anything worse.

The car ride makes him feel muzzy. Lazy, still. And he leans against the side of the car in that half-asleep state, breathes through the dull aches and sharp, shooting pain in his side without further complaint. By the time they're back on the Milano, that drowsiness recedes, with Peter heading one way and Alec heading the other. That pain slips into sharper focus when they part; Peter blames it on the reality of treated wounds hurting just as much as getting the damn things in the first place.

By the time Alec drops in, Peter is tucked into a seat in the corner his coat, vest, and tie draped over another chair nearby; he's waiting for Gamora or Drax, who are currently in the cargo area, turning the place upside down for that disgusting salve they use to promote healing. (Peter's pretty sure they used the last of it in their last sparring session and told them as much, but they both swear there's a jar of it somewhere on the ship.)

The top few buttons of his collar are unfastened, and he unconsciously runs the tips of his fingers across the invisible band on his throat. On the table beside him sits a mug filled with a steaming, foul-smelling brew – some tea Drax swears by as a painkiller. He glances up as Alec enters, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a shadow of a smile at his question. ]

Ohhh. [ He drags the word out on a quiet exhale. ] Definitely broken.

[ He presses an ice pack against his side, huffs out a quiet laugh. ]

Steel-toed boots. They get me every time.

[ He sucks in a breath between his teeth ] I've been there. You have my sympathy.

[ Another huff of a laugh. It occurs to Peter that he's suppose to be surly, short-spoken, and just all-around unpleasant with Alec on principle, but he can't dredge up the energy enough to give a shit. ]

The rib I can deal with. It's the nursing I can do without.

[ This, with a quick nod to the tea at his side, largely untouched and still hot. ]

Ever had someone try to kill you with home remedies? 'Cause it ain't fun.

[ For Alec's part, he knows it would be best if he left, but it just doesn't seem as important right now as it had before.

He takes a step or two closer, peering into the mug and wrinkling his nose. ] Jesus. Don't tell me you're supposed to drink that stuff. It smells awful.

The smell's not so bad, honestly. Not compared to the taste.

A nice bouquet of rotted wood, motor oil, and rancid meat, with just the barest hints of lemon and bile to round the whole thing out.

[ He nudges the mug forward a little. ]

Wanna try?

Not just no, Peter, but fuck no.

[ There's a bit of good humor to his tone, alongside his usual sarcasm. The fact that Peter's first name just kind slipped out totally escapes his notice. ]

You should definitely drink it, though. I think it'll be good for you.

Fuck off.

[ Instinct draws the words from him again, but his exhaustion saps the heat from them.

Still, he does lift the mug with his free hand, because if Drax comes back and sees he hasn't touched it, he's sure to turn the Dad Gaze on him. It's an indignity he doesn't want to suffer tonight.

Still, he can't bring himself to drink, and the disgust is clear in the tight set of his lips, in the corners of his eyes. ]

Did you need actually something, or did you just wanna kick me while I was down, too?

[ He gives the small bottle of pain pills he dredged up a little shake. ] I spent my night carrying some poor asshole around. Wasn't real great on my back.

[ Peter casts him a flat, unimpressed look. ]

Go to hell.

[ Again, the words are familiar, but they lack their usual heat, their usual shape. Blunter, softer, flatter. ]

Keep that shit up, and I might throw this mug at you. Then you'd be burned, sore, and smell like shit.

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