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enchantedlokii · 4 years

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Fire

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Characters: Peter Parker, Karen, Tony Stark, Helen Cho

Mentioned: Adrian Toomes, May Parker

Prompt Credit: @tadie1234 || burns

Peter had to admit, fires were among his least favorite rescues as Spider-Man. He knew it was a selfish thought, but he hated going into burning buildings to save people for more reasons than one.

First, his suit wasn’t exactly fireproof. It was less flammable that his makeshift suit, but it wasn’t indestructible. It didn’t completely protect him from the flames. Second, it was hard to see and Karen struggled to differentiate between heat signatures with everything ablaze, meaning he relied mostly on his Spider-Sense to pull people to safety. Third, it reminded him of the Vulture. Every time he saw fire he remembered the fight on the beach and he struggled to keep his anxiety in check long enough to get the job done.

The worst part, however, was the smoke. His mask helped; it filtered out some of the chemicals in the air, but it didn’t completely prevent the smoke from filling his lungs. It wasn’t an oxygen mask, and it couldn’t save his life if it came down to it. It was better than nothing, sure, but it wasn’t as protective as he wished it was.

Despite all this, Peter didn’t hesitate to rush inside when he saw the smoke pouring out the windows of the apartment building. “Okay, Karen,” he murmured. “I need you to try your hardest to pick out heat signatures for me, alright? If there’s even the slightest difference in temperatures, you tell me.”

“I will do my best, Peter,” she replied. He didn’t wait for her to find anyone to start searching. Every now and then he would call out, hoping that someone might hear him. And eventually, he started to find people when he reached the higher levels of the building; the floors above the origin of the fire. With each find, he would swing out the window and lower them to the ground before jumping back inside to start searching again.

The last time he went inside, his Spider-Sense grew stronger. He was confused at first, but then heard the creaking noise and cursed under his breath. Pieces of wood and metal started to fall down on him, burning his suit on contact and leaving him with open wounds. “The structure of the building is becoming unstable,” Karen informed him as he made his way to the next floor. “Evacuation is suggested.”

“Not yet, Karen,” he responded, focusing his senses. “There’s still a few people left.”

And with each person he carried out, Peter felt himself growing weaker. His chest was starting to ache, and he had to stop as he broke into a coughing fit. Someone suggested he rest, but he just shook his head and jumped back inside. There was just a few more rooms left to check. He would be okay.

“Peter, your vitals are starting to grow unstable,” Karen warned him. “If they do not steady soon, I will have to activate Baby Monitor Protocol.”

“Yeah, don’t do that,” Peter muttered. “This is the last room, okay? Then we’ll get out of here.”

Karen didn’t protest as Peter busted down the deteriorating door of the last room. He was showered with embers, but he ignored the pain when he saw a small figure inside; a little girl that couldn’t be older than six. She was barely conscious, raising her head slightly to look at him.

Peter immediately rushed over to her. “Hey, Sweetie,” he murmured, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

The little girl nodded weakly and Peter felt his heart breaking for her. In a split second decision, he pulled his mask off and slipped it over her head. “Karen, filter out as much smoke as you can.” Knowing he wouldn’t hear the reply, he picking up the child and started towards the window. His lungs ached with the effort as he shot a web to the next building and swung himself to the roof. He took the mask off the girl and slipped it back on before taking her down to the waiting medics.

As soon as he was sure the girl was safe, Peter shot a web at the building across the street. He stumbled as he landed on the roof, collapsing in a coughing fit. His chest aches with each effort, and he struggled to fight off his panic. He knew that he needed help. There was no way he would be able to make it home in the condition he was in. “Karen?” He was shocked by the hoarseness of his voice. “Call Mr. Stark.”

Karen didn’t respond, but Peter could hear the ringing noise inside his mask. He was afraid that his mentor might not pick up, but he relaxed when he heard a click. “Hey, Pete.”

“H-hey,” Peter choked on a cough before taking a shaky breath. “Could— do you think you can come get me?”

Peter heard the change in Tony’s voice as he realized something was wrong. “Peter? What’s wrong, Kid?” He could hear a whirring noise that let him know that he was already getting in a suit to come find him. “God, your vitals are tanking.”

“There was a fire,” he croaked. He took a deep breath to continue, but instead started coughing again. This fit was longer and black spots danced in his vision before it ended. He could hear Tony talking to him but couldn’t respond. His words became more frantic but he finally sighed with relief as Peter took a breath.

“Save your breath, alright? I’m almost there,” Tony said quickly. “Take slow, steady breaths for me.”

Peter did as he was told. He wanted to close his eyes and rest, but he knew that wasn’t the best idea right now. As the adrenaline faded, he felt the stinging pain of his burns. Then there were patches of skin that were numb. He knew that meant that they were likely third degree burns, and he silently hoped that a skin graft wouldn’t be necessary with his superhuman abilities.

“Peter? Pete, you with me?” Peter heard metal clank against the roof and looked up as Tony came out of the suit and kneeled beside him, pulling off his mask. He seemed relieved when Peter looked at him, his eyes showing no confusion. “Sh*t, Kid, you’re burned up.”

“That’s what happens when you walk through fire, Mr. Stark,” he mumbled, smiling a bit. He hoped that the joke would help ease his anxiety. He slowly tried to sit up, wincing at the pain.

“Hey, take it easy.” Tony gently supported his back as he sat up. He put his other hand on Peter’s chest, frowning at the rattly breaths the boy was taking. “Okay, we’re going to get you to the med bay.”

“N-no, I’ll be okay,” Peter countered. “I just need to rest and I can’t get home.”

Tony shook his head. “Sorry, Kiddo, but your vitals are terrible right now and some of these burns look nasty.”

Peter sighed but didn’t protest as Tony got back in the suit and carefully picked him up. He couldn’t help but hiss in pain as his wounds were touched. “Sh*t,” he muttered, coughing out the word. His head was starting to hurt now and he brought a hand up to massage his temple.

The flight to the tower wasn’t long, and Peter was relieved when he was laid down on a soft bed. A doctor was looking over him immediately, strapping a mask to his face and pricking his arm with an IV. “That bad?” he mumbled, watching the medicine start to flow towards his body.

“I told you your vitals aren’t looking good right now,” Tony reminded him, pulling up a chair to sit next to him.

“That, and it’s going to hurt while we work on these burns,” the doctor added. Peter recognized her now as Dr. Cho. He had never actually seen her in person, but there were plenty of videos and photos of her. “We’re going to have to peel your suit off.”

Peter winced at the thought. “Tha’s gonna hurt,” he murmured. He was surprised at the slur in his words. He glanced back at the IV and realized that there must be some sort of strong painkiller in the liquid.

“Heavy painkiller and light sedative,” Helen explained, noticing him glancing at the IV. “The salve we’re going to use has antibiotics in it, but we may end up adding some to the IV depending on how quickly you start healing.”

Peter just hummed in response. He felt a hand in his hair and smiled softly, glancing up. He could see the worry in Tony’s eyes as he watched Helen preparing to take off the damaged suit. Every now and then his gaze would switch to the monitor that was showing Peter’s vitals. They were starting to level out more now, but still weren’t great.

“‘M ‘kay, Tony,” he murmured, catching his attention. “‘S not that bad. ‘M jus’ tired.”

“I know, Kiddo,” Tony replied quietly, continuing to comb his fingers through the boy’s hair. Peter was a bit surprised by the comforting touch, but he didn’t mind. It was nice. “I just hate that you’re hurt.”

“Not bad,” Peter pressed. It was starting to hurt as Dr. Cho started cutting his suit open, but he tried not to let it show. He hoped that his eyes didn’t give the pain away. If he didn’t focus on it, he hoped, it would go away.

“Kinda bad,” Tony countered. He was quiet for a beat, glancing at Helen before looking back to Peter. “Hey, I’m proud of you, Kid. You did a good job today.”

Peter let his smile grow a bit. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.” It wasn’t the first time that the man had complimented him, but it was still nice. It was nice that he was staying here with him, too. “You don’ have to stay.”

“I want to, Pete,” he replied. “I’ll stay until Helen is finished and then I’m going to go call your aunt while you try to get some sleep, deal?”

“Do we hafta tell May?” Peter whined. He knew that there was no way Mr. Stark would let him leave the Medbay tonight, but he had hoped they could tell May he was there for something else. Not Spider-Man purposes. Well, at least not hurt Spider-Man purposes.

“I’m sorry, Underoos. You know the rules,” Tony told him. He was right, too. May would let him be Spider-Man as long as she was told whenever he was hurt. Even if he went to Mr. Stark for help. She didn’t want to be kept out of the loop. “She’s probably worried that you’re not home by now as it is.”

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. He knew it must be past his curfew by now. “‘M I staying here tonight?” he murmured.

“Yeah, Pete. You’re staying here tonight,” Tony confirmed. “Burns don’t heal overnight, even for Spider-Kids.”

“Not to mention that you already don’t thermoregulate well,” Dr. Cho cut in. “The skin is what keeps your body temperature regulated. With it damaged, you won’t be able to stay warm. Not to mention there’s a higher risk for infection until the third degree burns heal. You could be here a couple of days.”

Peter groaned with frustration. He hated being cooped up, but he knew that she was right. He would only be cooped up longer if he got sick on top of his injuries. He would lose his mind.

But tonight. . . Tonight wouldn’t be bad. The salve would be soothing on his burns. After they were wrapped up and he was given some water and an increased IV drip, he would be grateful to drift away into a peaceful sleep. Truthfully, it was worth it. Because he managed to save everyone in that building. He managed to get them all out safe. For that, the burns covering his body was a small price he didn’t mind to pay.

#marvel #mcu #avengers #whump #irondad #spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #helen cho #spider man #iron man

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songfell-ut · 4 years

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Chapter 7: more talking

But it’s important talking! Clues are not gotten! A proposition is proposed! And damn, does SpellCheck not like Sans’ dialogue. D:

Chapter link here, hi @lostmypotatoes

When they strolled up to the chapel entrance, the captain on duty was the very one who had been in charge of Sans' cell the day they met. He was discussing the fireworks with one of his subordinates, who looked over the captain's shoulder and got very, very quiet. The skeleton took a great deal of pleasure in waiting for him to turn around, then saying, "Well, hey there. Don't I know ya from somewhere?"

The captain was ready to have a conniption until he spotted Frisk: Sans was leaning far sideways, and she was standing almost on tiptoe, holding the crook of his elbow so that he was escorting her like a proper gentleman. "Your Eminence!" the captain gasped. He looked back and forth between them, hand on his sword hilt. "My lady, where have you been? Has this creature done something to you?"

"He saved me from being ill in front of half the kingdom," Frisk said coolly. "I am fine now, Captain, thanks to his timely intervention. Has the benediction been performed yet?"

"Uh...no, my lady, but—"

"Then I will do so." With her head held high, the High Priestess led the skeleton past the guards and straight into the chapel.

Unsurprisingly, their entrance caused quite a stir. The last verse of the last hymn was starting, and as the pair approached the altar, Frisk signaled for the choir to keep going. The congregation watched, stunned, as Frisk took Sans with her through the ring of guardsmen and stood to one side at the front of the chapel, waiting for the music to end.

She hadn't planned on this, but she wouldn't have done it any differently; it was impossible not to smirk a little. The boss monster must have felt the same way, because he bent down to say, under the cover of song, "Didn't think I'd get t'walk ya down the aisle today."

"You do know that a girl's father does that for her, not the groom?" she murmured back, and Sans looked so chagrined that she snrrked again.

The hymn came to a close, and Frisk moved up to read the benediction. She tried to put her facade back on, but she couldn't help smiling; when she formally ended the service, there was more applause than she'd ever heard.

Though the guards prevented anyone from coming up to the altar, she reclaimed Sans and, ignoring all attempts to stop her, went to stand in the back of the chapel to speak with people as they left. Sure enough, despite the presence of her massive escort, there was such a traffic jam around her that Frisk ended up having to move outside the entrance.

Of course, amidst the compliments and well-wishes came several questions about her absence from the middle of the ceremony; enough people knew about Sans' abilities to ask if they'd really seen a woman and/or men vanish from the congregation, and why the people sitting near them had been taken away quietly by armed guards.

Frisk made a quick guess as to what had happened, and that the woman and/or men's families were the ones talking loudly to the guards in the next room. She told the questioner that extraordinary measures had been necessary for everyone's safety, and certain persons had had to be taken into immediate custody—no one had been spirited away to never be seen again, and no one would be, which her listeners seemed willing to believe.

It was also a matter of great speculation why someone would trouble themselves to put on a fireworks display in full daylight, and a time when everyone was in church and wouldn't see them. Luckily, the consensus was that it had been a mistake, and Frisk could feign ignorance along with her parishioners.

More cute, but problematic, was the custom of children offering her little tokens like flowers and ribbons on their way out. There were no pockets in her wretched dress, so her hands filled up quickly, and she could only tuck so many golden flowers behind her ears. On impulse, Frisk started winding the ribbons around Sans' arms instead and tying the flowers on; seeing that Sans was not killing or eating her, the children soon began ignoring the priestess and going straight to the skeleton, decorating his legs and poking flower stems through his wristbones.

Throughout this ordeal, Sans had no idea what to do, so he opted to stand there, expressionless, and do nothing. This happened to be the least threatening and therefore correct option; Frisk checked frequently on the crowd's reactions, but after the first few minutes, no one was frightened at all. Parents were even bowing to Sans and mouthing "Thank you" up at him as they reclaimed their delighted offspring.

The priestess had been sure to speak loud enough for the nearby guardsmen and any curious bystanders to hear, and when it was time to step away from the crowd and confer with His Holiness privately, she didn't have to repeat herself much. That was when she learned that magically infused items had been brought into the chapel in lieu of daggers or crossbows, and how Sans – still bedecked in flowers as he gravely related these particulars – had used his teleportation to thwart their efforts; the three suspects' friends and families had already been escorted upstairs for further questioning.

This last fact turned out to be a slight problem. Frisk had thought the "fireworks" would be easy to trace to anyone who had left the chapel in a hurry a few minutes after her hymn, but it seemed several people had been escorted out for questioning at the same time. Many of them had been loud or troublesome enough for someone to have followed the group out and slipped away without notice.

"Pity. Overall, a job well done, sir," the Cardinal told Sans, and gave the guard captain a look that forced the poor man to say through gritted teeth, "Indeed, sir. Thank you for your service."

"Thank you, Your Holiness. We'll take our leave, then," Frisk said smoothly, giving Sans the slightest tap with her foot. "A Happy All Souls Day to each of you."

Sans mumbled something similar, and with a couple of bows, they were free to go. The priestess was starving, but the second they got back to the workroom, she shuffled at top speed to her dressing room, slammed the door, and peeled the gown off as fast as she could. Her sigh of freedom was so exaggerated and yet genuine that she heard Sans mutter, "Guess it was good fer you, too," which made her laugh till she had to sit down amidst her shoes and catch her breath.

It was strange; by unspoken agreement, neither mentioned their embrace in the hallway, but as she came out in her loosest, oldest dress and they sat down to breakfast, the silence was completely comfortable. They each ate a small pile of soul cakes, some eggs, and then more soul cakes, not stopping until they ran out of milk and Sans finally allowed her to take the basket away.

They sat around for a few minutes afterward, half asleep, with the boss monster lost in thought as he picked flowers off his arms; she knew it was serious when he began shifting around and tapping his heels on the floor. "Hey, Frisk?" He twisted a couple of flower stems together. "How do ya go about gettin' a list of what human's got what monster? It's a Church thing, right?"

Frisk had been sitting cross-legged on the floor to unwind the ribbons around his legs, and stood up slowly to place a handful on the table. She'd known this conversation would have to happen sooner or later, but why did it have to spoil such a nice, quiet moment? "Is there a specific reason you want to know?" she asked cautiously.

"Yeah. One of the people after you was gonna use an ice spell she got from a monster named Snowdrake. The magic felt pretty fresh, not like they drained 'im already and jus' used it now. I figured he must still be alive."

The priestess sat down beside him and picked up another golden flower. "I'm going to be honest with you, Sans, and in return, I ask that you not get too angry with me." He nodded without looking at her, and she continued, "I already asked the Cardinal for those exact records, back when we met him and the King. I am deeply sorry for my phrasing, but I said 'a specific class of goods' because I wanted to be circumspect in front of you. I didn't know what you would say if I asked for a list of all the monsters registered as slaves. It is indeed 'a Church thing,' I am disgusted to say. Again, I apologize for—"

"Nah, you were right, I'd'a gone nuts. Ya don't hafta be so stiff about it. I know ya don't actually think of us as stuff ta buy and sell."

The words were mature enough, but Frisk didn't like the look on his face. "I suppose it's time we had a real talk about this," she said. "I've been thinking it over for years, and I have an idea of what we can do to put an end to the monsters' slavery. Will you hear me out?" He wouldn't answer, and Frisk tugged at his sleeve. "Please, Sans."

The giant skeleton flicked at the pile of flowers, sending them flying across the tabletop and onto the floor. "Fine," he growled. "Talk."

"All right. First, I don't know if you know the exact legalities, so: it is technically against the law to go to the border with the Underground, find a monster, and bring said monster back here to be sold, but it's rarely enforced, and it is legal to sell, buy, or own them. It's definitely a crime to buy or own a monster without registering him or her and paying the proper taxes, and the Church enforces it very strictly. ...Sans, I'm not saying any of this to upset you. I have to be sure you know exactly what we're fighting, and that if you charge out and start liberating monsters, you're going to make everything a thousand times worse. May I explain why?"

His teeth were gnashing so hard that it sounded like metal on metal, not bone. "I am tryin' very hard ta be good right now, kid. Ya better get to the friggin' point soon."

"Very well. The point is that if you decide to free any or all of the monsters and you kill a human in the process, not only will you go from an emissary to a wanted criminal, you'll reinforce everyone's fears about monsters being dangerous, even the people who left church today thinking that skeletons may not be evil after all. That much fear could very well push the King to declare war."

No reaction. Frisk stopped to pour herself some water, but she was thinking so hard that she just stared at it while she said, "I wouldn't be able to stop them from sealing the Underground and forcing every single monster in it to choose between slavery and starvation. And if you think you could use your magic to free monsters without killing anyone, don't. They'd figure out it was you, and you'd be banished at the very least. Meanwhile, I'd be stripped of my title, forced to pay double the full value of each monster, and imprisoned."

That made him sit back a little, but Frisk was not done by a long shot. "Now, if I thought that money would make the problem go away, I would've done it a long time ago—but no. If I were to buy every monster in the kingdom, it wouldn't stop anyone from going out to get new ones. In fact, it would drive prices so high that humans would be racing to set up camp in the no-man's-land and raid the Underground itself for more slaves. They wouldn't care what the law says. They'd be making more than enough to just pay the fines, or be so numerous that the King couldn't arrest them all. If you tried to fight them off, they'd kill any monsters who attacked them, claim self-defense, and get away with it. No one would stop them because we've gotten so dependent on magic, and right now, humans still think monsters are—"

"Shit on a brick! Fine! I get it. You're right. Yer totally goddamn right." Sans' head sank between his elbows, cheek grating on the table. "So, we play nice 'n let everyone see how cuddly I am, an' a few hundred years from now, humans might like monsters enough ta feed us every single day?"

"I'm getting to that, Sans. By law, monsters must be provided adequate food, water, and shelter, and any accommodations their unique biology may require. They're also not supposed to be used to commit crimes. If someone used Snowdrake's magic to fashion illegal weapons, I can have him confiscated and placed in my custody, and I'll register his new location as a house I own on the outskirts of the city. How long would it take you to make one round trip from here to the house and the Underground, and back? Could you do it, say, overnight?"

"Hmm. Yeah, it'd just take a lot outta me." Frisk couldn't help noting that he now considered it a given he'd be coming right back, and allowed herself to be very happy for a moment before he went on, "With Snowdrake, G—the doctor already told 'em to find whoever took his magic for that spell. So that's already happenin', which just leaves...how many monsters are there here?"

"I don't know the exact total offhand. I promise to show you the records as soon as the Cardinal gives them to me, if you promise you won't use them to do anything rash, which I define as 'anything you know Frisk does not want you to do.' For the immediate future, the best plan of action would be to check the conditions each one is being kept in and see if we can legally take any more of them. We'd need to do it before word gets out and everyone suddenly starts behaving perfectly—that's what usually happens when I try to order surprise inspections."

"Great, but when can we get started on makin' this shit illegal t'begin with?"

"When we have enough political support. We need people to feel that it's wrong to keep monsters like animals, even if they're well-treated, and we also have to be prepared when they ask, 'But where will we get our magic?' Part of the answer will be the natural power sources you and the doctor are working on now, which he should be able to formally present to the King before you leave. But also..." She trailed off, her throat closing up with sudden nervousness.

Sans lifted a hand. "What? Spit it out."

Frisk's heart was pounding. She knew Sans wouldn't like this part, but if she couldn't convince him, the entire plan was sunk. How to begin?

Something occurred to her, and without thinking hard enough, she said, "I'm sorry for the comparison, but it reminds me of Luke and his birds." He stiffened, and she hastened to add, "Don't get me wrong—monsters are not pets, and I'm not suggesting you stay confined in any way, but it's a valid example of working within the constraints of supply and demand. If we can't eliminate the demand for magic, we need to supply it without exploiting monsters, and we have to make it as painless a transition as we can. In this case, not only do we work on wind and solar generation, we..." A deep breath, almost a gulp. "...have monsters give magic voluntarily. You could sell it to us, or perhaps trade it as part of a peace agreement, or for food, until we learn to make enough for ourselves. Partners, not slaves."

Sans didn't move. "...Partners?"

One word, nothing more. Frisk's heart sped up until she felt sick. The boss monster was sitting stock-still, but the air around him started to turn faintly red, smelling like heat lightning. Frisk made herself say, "You hate humans. I know that. I won't claim to know exactly what you're feeling, but I—"

"Ya couldn'a picked a worse monster fer this. Ya know that?" The skeleton turned his head, and Frisk flinched: his right socket was blank, and the left was solid crimson, the same color as his blaster the day he'd been prepared to kill her and all the guards in his prison cell. "Lemme tell ya somethin', kid. I'll admit that you've been treatin' me right, and I don't mind bein' cutesy 'n nice once in a while if it'll make other monsters safer." His fist slammed into the solid oak tabletop, leaving a dent. "But I'll be fucked in the eye 'fore I go back ta Asgore and say, 'Hey, maybe they'll quit squeezin' us out like jelly rolls and leavin' us to scream ourselves inta dust, we just hafta promise we'll be good helpers!' Are ya kidding me, Frisk? This whole time, you've been plannin' to end slavery by gettin' us ta whore ourselves out instead?!"

The priestess' ears were ringing. She hadn't seen or felt him this angry since the day they met. Should she back off, try to placate him, and wait to bring it up again later—maybe shelve it entirely till she could talk with another monster?

No. She knew Sans. If she left things like this – especially if she apologized for proposing it – she'd be all but telling him that he was right to be angry with her, and he wouldn't have to face the possibility that he was unfairly pointing a lifetime of hatred in her direction. Not only would that gall her on a personal level, it'd unbalance him even further, maybe to the point where she couldn't reach him anymore. Nice, quiet moments were all well and good, but she had to be able to talk to him about difficult things, not just chess and stupid jokes!

Frisk pressed her lips together, burning with determination. She turned to face the boss monster, though they were so close that she had to tip her head back. "I don't know what else you expected, Sans," she said firmly. "As things are now, monsters have no future. Short of killing literally every human alive, the only way for you to live in peace is to live with us and make the best of it. You don't have to like it, but you do have to acknowledge reality. May I ask if you have any better ideas?"

His eye was starting to leak a fine red mist. "Mmm, I dunno about every human. We could start small, maybe a few hundred, work our way up."

That reminded her—partly out of curiosity and partly to distract him, she asked, "After you were imprisoned, did you stay put for all that time because you were waiting to kill whoever came to get you out?"

"Ding ding ding! Smart lady. Mostly." Sans suddenly reached down for her face. Frisk held steady as those huge, slightly pointed phalanges brushed her temple. "I did wanna get more information before I busted out, maybe identify who all had magic so I could kill 'em later." Something rustled her hair as Sans removed one of the golden flowers still tucked behind her ear, lifting it all the way back up to his eye level. "But I mostly wanted ta see exactly what kinda person thought they could box me up like yer little dumbshit boyfriend 'n his stupid-ass birds." A giant, horrible grin. The flower evaporated in a cloud of fine ash. "Then I was gonna snap their arms 'n legs an' wring their head off, nice 'n slow."

Frisk dug her nails into the ball of her thumb, controlling her own anger and, yes, fear. She had to stay calm and think very, very carefully about what she did next. She'd been trained in mediation—what was it Sister Maribelle had said? "Pay attention to little asides or silly demands that they refuse to concede. There you'll often find the real heart of the matter."

All right. She had anticipated some resistance to her proposition, but nothing this violent. Yes, he hated humans, and she hadn't touched that nerve so much as sucker-punched it. But why had he mentioned Luke like that, and why did he sound so bitter? Was he that offended at her comparing monsters to captive birds? Or...

...Good Lord. He couldn't be...jealous, could he? There was no way—but even if he was, why bring it up now? This argument had nothing to do with—

Unbidden, her mind flashed back to that moment in the hallway. She'd needed comfort so badly, and with someone she trusted right at hand, she'd been selfish enough to take it. Her body tingled at the memory of his hand resting on her back as she clung to him, and...

She still didn't understand what had happened to her heart. It didn't seem the kind of poetic, butterflies-in-the-stomach attraction she'd read about; this was literal attraction, keeping her against him for as long as possible. It'd felt absolutely wonderful, but a little frightening, like her – what did the monsters call it? – like her SOUL was literally stuck to him, and would tear loose from her chest if she tried to pull away. Was that normal? Maybe it was why so many romantic songs and poems mentioned a moment lasting forever...

Frisk shook herself. He'd been very patient with her hugging him, and pushed her away as lightly as usual, but she couldn't ask that of him again. There was no point speculating exactly how else he'd felt about it, or imagining anything more.

But there was a point in speculating about how Sans felt now. He'd had to get up early to sit around with someone who was clearly interested in her and who she hadn't done much to discourage—probably a bit annoying, but not problematic until she went and threw herself into his arms just a few hours later. It had probably come off as mixed signals at best, and leading him on or using him at worst. She could only suppose that it was still bothering him on some level, and then she'd brought it up amidst the stress of talking about monsters and slavery...

Well, Frisk wasn't going to give him a free pass to say or do whatever he wanted, but she wasn't nearly as angry anymore. "I won't apologize for having a workable plan towards peace, but I am sorry for likening you to birds," she said, keeping her voice quiet enough that he had to focus to hear it. "Lord Owen was a poor example, too. I don't even know if I'd like to see him again," she added.

Sans' aura receded ever so slightly, his brow creasing. "Why's that?" he rumbled, adding too late, "Not like I care. We're gettin' off topic."

Frisk was a little surprised herself. She let Sans see her hesitation as she thought out loud. "It's...tiny things. He's so perfect on paper, but..."

"But what?" snapped the skeleton.

"He didn't say 'Please' to the maid. No one in his family ever does," Frisk remarked. "They're not at all cruel to their servants, or even rude, necessarily. They just—and another thing. When he was moving my hand for Ruby to perch on, he was too rough. He scratched me a little when he took my bracelet off, which reminds me that I left it there. Wonderful." Despite herself, Frisk closed her eyes. Through the adrenaline of fighting with a volatile boss monster, she could feel exhaustion hovering on the periphery, clouding her judgment and keeping the words flowing: "You're almost twice his size, and you never manhandle me like that. He'd be more considerate if I asked him to, but I don't like his presumption. Did you notice how he smacks his lips when he eats? And unless he's changed completely in less than a year, his sense of humor is boring." She cracked one eye open, suppressing a yawn. "I know I'm being spoiled and ridiculous, but I can't help it. He's rich, he's very kind, and his whole family would welcome me with open arms. I've dreamed of having a family my whole life! But, still, he just seems...adequate. Am I wrong for wanting more than that?"

Sans tilted his head at her. His eye was still pulsing red, but he was clearly thinking something over; she didn't know whether to be hopeful or put up a preemptive barrier.

A long moment later, with an even more visible effort, he pulled the scarlet haze almost all the way back into his bones. "I got an idea, too," he said roughly. "You an' me ain't gonna talk about this 'partner' crap any more, 'cause there's no point. But you tell yer King what ya just told me, if ya haven't already. Get the plans squared away for convertin' all yer shit to run on good ol' Mother Nature, not from breakin' anyone's ribs an' tearin' their SOUL out." His eye dimmed. "I'll take ya back to the Underground with me an' get you in ta see Asgore. Then you can ask him what he thinks about it."

Frisk felt the blood drain from her face. "You...you want me to go to the Underground and speak with your King?"

He nodded shortly. "I won't lie t'ya, Frisk. I fuckin' hate yer plan. I'd never go along with it. But maybe he would, and he's the one in charge." The skeleton snorted. "And nah, I don't have any better ideas. Just...come back with me."

The thought of going to the Underground, and the way he said it—something in her chest unclenched, and just as swiftly squeezed itself back into a knot. Suddenly, all the exhaustion, tension, and frustration she'd been holding back threatened to boil over, and to her embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears.

The red vanished, all of it. "Frisk?" Sans leaned over her, orange pinpricks reappearing in his sockets. "C'mon, kid, don't do this again!"

"What if—" She had to stop and swallow a few times. "What if I'm tired, and you've just made my life a lot more complicated, and I need to 'do this again'?"

"Oh, I'm the complicated one?" Sans looked ready to launch into another tirade, but Frisk sniffled and rubbed her eyes, and the skeleton covered with his face with his hand instead. "O-kay. Ya know what I think? I think we both need a traditional All Souls nap. Sleepin's a good way ta honor dead people, right? It's all they do."

That startled a laugh out of her. "I'd argue if I could." She scrubbed her eyes again. "I need to think about this. It'd be quite an undertaking, but...who knows? I've already made you an emissary against your will. Maybe I can return the favor."

Sans perked up so much that she wondered if he was being sarcastic. But no, he just answered, "Sure, take all the time ya need. I'm still stayin' another, what, twenty days? That's forever." More somberly, he picked a golden flower from behind her other ear. "You'd be way better at it 'n me. King Asgore's not the same nice guy he used ta be, but I think he'd listen to ya. Either way, me 'n Tori would keep you safe," he said quietly.

Dirt. Frisk scratched her cheek where the petals had brushed it, wondering for the hundredth time how someone so big could move with that kind of gentle dexterity. She couldn't handle this right now. "I don't know," she tried to say, but her voice cracked.

The skeleton looked a little panicked. He glanced at the tabletop, guiltily moving a plate to cover the dent he'd made. "Nap time," he muttered.

Frisk nodded. Without another word, she rose and went into the office, and shut the door. She slid down against it to the floor, and tried not to burst into tears, or look at the couch, or think of the rosewood box hidden beneath the floorboards. But how could she not when he had flat-out asked her to go back with him?

That damned box. "For you to reclaim, or not," the Mother Superior had said the day Frisk left the convent.

Why had the old woman given it back to her? Why hadn't they thrown it away?

Why hadn't Frisk thrown it away?

What would happen if she just had Sans smash it? Would the orb evaporate, or would everything hit her at once? The thought was terrifying. She knew all too well that the women who ran the convent were neither sentimental nor faint-hearted; she couldn't imagine the state she must've been in for them to take that much. It had to have been literal life or death.

Frisk shook her head, giving one last sniff. Sans was right. She did need a nap. But when she thought of staying in here alone on the couch again, more tears started leaking out until she wanted to howl like a small child—again, the way she probably had when they first brought her to St. Brigid's.

This wouldn't do. The priestess wiped her eyes on her threadbare skirt and got to her feet. She didn't care if she woke Sans, he could always—

When she opened the door, she was met with a gigantic ribcage and a huge hand curled up in her face, ready to knock. Frisk leapt back with a little squeak. "Don't do that!" she cried.

Sans had also jumped back. "What the crap?! Ya scared me half t'death!"

They glared at each other for a moment. Then Frisk's mouth twitched, and Sans tried to scowl, but snickered, and soon they were both laughing helplessly, leaning against the doorframe and the worktable, respectively. "Okay, okay," the boss monster managed. "If ya really hafta have another slumber party, c'mon."

Frisk giggled again, wiping her now-raw eyes. "Is that what you were doing? Inviting me back over?"

"Well..." The skeleton headed towards the bedroom, scratching the back of his skull. "I can't do my job when yer in another room, am I?" He opened the door wider for her. "'Sides, Pap's not here, an' I can't fall asleep unless I've been buggin' someone."

The priestess gave him a watery smile. "I missed you, too."

Sans turned an interesting shade, and muttered a general denial of missing anybody, which she ignored. "Hey, hold on a sec," he said as Frisk retrieved a large quilt and climbed into bed. "Where's yer fort?"

She stole the single pillow and plunked it down on the far side of the mattress. "It's a pretend fort." The young woman lay down facing him and shook out the quilt, draping it over herself and scrunching the corners into a sort of burrow. "There. I can't see you, and you can't see me," she said through the top, and yawned. "Come on. Don't make me put you to sleep."

Sans' mouth opened and closed a few times. "What, ya mean—"

"I mean that I'm tired, and so are you, so get into bed and be quiet. That's how naps work."

"But—"

"Sans."

The skeleton didn't bother arguing further. He stood for a moment, and turned to leave. He stopped. He shook his head, and reached for the doorknob.

A movement from deep within the quilt was his only warning before the now-familiar vibrations swept through him and his hand drooped, hanging limp at his side. She was cheating: her humming was too muffled to hear if he went any further out of the room. Telling himself this was against his will, Sans shut and locked the bedroom door, went back to the bed, and stretched out in his usual spot, letting his eyes close and his SOUL soften as the sound lapped at him.

It was so nice to be safe with someone besides Papyrus, especially in a room big enough for him. He knew better than to be this happy with a human, and yet the thought of her really, actually coming home with him made him want to...he didn't know what, because he was out of practice at happiness. Smile, maybe? No, it was a deeper-down feeling than that. Grabbing her was out of the question. Sans tried to think of something else happy people were supposed to do, only to find that he couldn't move past the grabby option.

What did come to him was that quiet image of Kris holding his hand and beaming up at him. Yep, it still hurt. Hadn't he learned his lesson? He and Papyrus – all the monsters – had loved their little human buddy, and then he was gone, taking a tiny chunk of their SOULs with him.

It's not gonna happen this time, the boss monster argued with himself. We couldn't have stopped those assholes from taking Kris away 'cause he was a kid. She's the High damn Priestess, and if she wants to be Underground, we just have to tell the Kings to go to hell, and no one else can tell her what to do. She won't have to leave, and she doesn't have to marry that scratchy little prick!

The humming paused as Frisk pulled back the quilt to check if he was asleep. Sans grunted to let her know to keep going.

A patient sigh; the quilt came back up. "Sans?" she murmured.

"Hm?" The skeleton opened a citrine eye. "Wha?"

"Will you take me to the festival this evening? We can sleep until then, I promise."

"Hmm. D'I hafta put skin back on?"

"Yes, if you can. I don't want to make a scene. I just want to walk around, get some cider, and have my fortune told."

That made him open his other eye. "Fortune?"

"It's an All Souls tradition, a real one." Yawn. "There's a man, he charges too much, but everything he says..." Another yawn. "I have an important question. Don't want advice. Want to know what'll happen if I do or don't...something."

"Don't we all." Sans yawned, too. "Sure, we c'n go. Skin."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever ya want."

The humming resumed. As the world went fuzzy around the edges, Sans wondered idly what would happen if she did meet someone she liked. Couldn't he just kill the guy? If it happened a couple times in a row, word would get around, and she'd never have to marry anybody.

Yes. That was the perfect solution. Everything was perfect. Ignoring a little shiver of apprehension, Sans gave up thinking, and was asleep in moments.

#songfell i want to shake these characters

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gegenji · 4 years

Text

Advent of an Amazing Aether-Administrating Apparatus!

RP Partner: @onehundredplumblossoms Date: 24 June 2020

Nenemo Nemo evaluates the Namazu, the exterior hull holding fast against the furious storm that rocked Gloam not long ago. The town is already starting to look more orderly, apart from the numerous windows under repair and waterlogged furniture in the street waiting to be broken down and replaced. For an independent community Gloam is relatively well off, due to the ceruleum, so it isn't damage they can't bounce back from. Continuous storms however, who could say. Nenemo Nemo: > For her part, Seseka seems satisfied that the submersible hasn't been severely compromised in any way, and only needs to send her mammets scurrying about the hull to check for anything out of the ordinary. Very little but cosmetic damage is found. She clutches a cigar between her fingers, running a hand through her shortened hair.

Chachanji Gegenji peered awkwardly into the warehouse, draped in an azure-hued rain slicker that was likely rather new - though perhaps not unwarranted given the weather he's had to deal with around Gloam in his past outings here. Seeing Seseka and her mammets inspecting the Namazu, he pushes his way in - and into conversation with the older Lalafell - with awkward steps and equally awkward small-talk. "So... ah... h-how's th' Namazu lookin'? All th' gadgets still in one piece after th' storm?"

Nenemo Nemo: "Ah? Oh, yes yes, she's quite fine. Your construction was solid. Nothing but scratches so far. I can't perceive any damage to the propeller either." Nenemo Nemo puffs a small cloud of cigar smoke. Her recent infirmity doesn't seem to dissuade her any.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Tha's good!" he chirps, meandering in closer and looking over the vessel a little himself. "I did bring back s'more'a me tools in case any repairwork'r anythin' needs done, 'long wit all th' stuff on th' list Ms. Aya gave me." And Virara, but given Seseka's reaction to his wanting to bring her in the first place... he figured omitting that part was probably for the best right now.

Nenemo Nemo: "I don't have any use for you right now. If it so comes that Miss Foxheart has a need of another modification, however, your craftsmanship will no doubt be called upon again." Nenemo Nemo states with her low, somewhat raspy voice. She seems slightly unfocused. It might be the effect of her mammets. Judging from what was alluded to before, some 'part' of Seseka seemed invested in them all, especially the red one. It might be that she's in the midst of 'multitasking' even now.

Chachanji Gegenji: "'n I'll be 'ere ta do it if'n it's needed..." Chachan reassured, tapping lightly on the more armored chest-piece of his rain slicker. Protection against rain and zombie sahagin, from the looks of things. He watched the mammets go about their business in silence for a couple moments, a couple wary glances sent Seseka's way, before he spoke again. "Um... w-were ya able ta put t'gether those... um... thin's tha'd keep th' zombie fishmens away?"

Nenemo Nemo: "Yes. I've had my boys set them up about the beaches and shorelines of this island. With any luck they will be prevented from entering Gloam again. However, I would not expect that we would be able to continue producing such devices with reckless abandon. After all, I was only able to make a surplus of disruptors here because the island is privy to a large supply of surplus Imperial communicators and parts. What with the circumstances of their independence." Nenemo Nemo muses without looking at him.

Nenemo Nemo: "Should the cultured drone problem spread beyond the vicinty of Dagon and Hydra itself, I doubt even the Empire proper could produce enough disruptors to keep every shoreline of Eorzea free of them."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Well, hopef'lly we'll be able ta deal wit th' pro'lem at th' source once we're down there... Right?" Chachan offered, though the question at the end rather clearly belied his own uncertainty of that. He fidgeted a bit, scratched at his cheek. Another awkward little silence. "Um... s-so... given all th' parts 'n stuff 'ere... ah... c-could ya be able ta make another'a of a diff'rent gadget? I-if'n ya wanted ta, a'course."

Nenemo Nemo blinks, shutting her eyes momentarily and leaning back. Some tension seems to leave her body before her eyes flutter open again. Thus unoccupied, her concentration also broken, she turns to Chachanji. "I was wondering when you'd get around to asking me whatever it was you really wanted. No one comes to an old coot like me for anything but to make a request. Well, what is it?" Nenemo Nemo places her cigar in a round glass ash tray in front of her.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Th-tha's not true! I... I wanted ta make sure ya were akay, too," he stated, silently admitting he had a request. "I... jus' didn't know which would be th' easier ta bring up first... 'n both ended up bein' kinda... difficult." He rubs at the back of his neck. "S-still, since we're on th' topic of gadgets 'n makin' stuff... I-I figgered thi' would be th' best one ta... um... start wit?" He gives an awkward shrug and smile.

Nenemo Nemo rolls her eyes. "Get on with it. I'll try to help you as best I can. It's the least I can do for your superb service."

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-akay..." He nods before taking a deep breath. "Um... w-would ya be able ta make 'nother one'a those um... aether-pullin' gadgets tha' ya used ta help me back when we were testin' those potions'a yers? Y'know, me 'n th' folks from th' Roadhouse? Ya... um... saw what extra aether does ta me 'n... I-I dun want ta risk somethin' like tha' happenin' while we're down there. I mean... g-given th' bigger zombie fishmen we saw, I-I 'spose it COULD be handy? But... I can't really... control it well."

Nenemo Nemo presses her bronzed spectacles up with her pinkie. "Ah yes, your condition. I remember it well. But that wasn't a device for "clearing aether," so much as improvising via the effects of an existing trinket I simply had on hand. More study would be needed to understand the vagaries of your physiology, such that I have a grasp exactly of what your bodily transformation entails." Nenemo Nemo: "In particular, I find it curious that you are able to gain mass so easily, yet lose it all without any discarded matter. It is a strange characteristic." Nenemo Nemo seems to mean matter as in any solid substance in this case...

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah... w-well, I dun really understand it meself..." he admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck again. "Jus'... whenev'r I take in extra aether... tha' happens. I thought it'd jus' last until I actively used it up 'r it was taken outta me but... ah... some recent events have shown me tha' jus'... after enough time... I go back ta normal. Still... it's th' fact tha' it happens tha's th' pro'lem... 'n if'n somethin' caused it while we were down there..." He looks down at the warehouse floor. Chachanji Gegenji: "I... I could put ev'ryone in danger."

Nenemo Nemo: "If it concerns you so much, then don't go. Why must it be you who risks yourself for the safety of others?" Nenemo Nemo questions him, a clear, calm look in her eyes.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Well, fer one... I... thin' I hafta go 'cuz otherwise Ms. Ririco might not work wit us?" He scratched at his cheek. "I mean, ya were th' one tha' said tha'." A pause. "But... I... I want ta be able ta help, too. Ta try 'n make sure ev'ryone tha's goin' down there comes back safe. Ms. Aya, Ms. Portia, you, 'n those we're goin' down there ta find. I dun thin' I could stand it if'n I stayed behind... 'n I find out ya guys got hurt. Or worse. When I coulda been there. Done somethin'."

Nenemo Nemo: "That. That there. Worrying about things you can't help. That's what I mean when I ask this of you." Nenemo Nemo points at him with the stub of her sizzling cigar. Nenemo Nemo: "I think the little brat would probably assist us so long as you delivered on your promise. I don't expect that she will lie, as... fixated as she is. But even so, you talk about this like it's something only you can do. Why?" Nenemo Nemo doesn't seem hostile, more that she's genuinely curious.

Chachanji Gegenji: "'s... not tha' it's somethin' only I can do," he admits, quietly. "Honestly, wit Virara comin' along... she could prolly handle th' fishmen all by herself. But..." A longer pause. "I want ta help. I want ta be there fer me friends. I want ta be able ta tell th' captain tha' he's got friends... a family waitin' fer 'im back in Limsa. I want ta do me best ta protect ev'ryone, ta see ev'ryone come back safe." He turns and places a hand on the Namazu. "I dun doubt th' Namazu can get ev'ryone down-- Chachanji Gegenji: --there. 's what's waitin' down there, tha' unknown... it worries me."

Nenemo Nemo: ".... Hm." Nenemo Nemo seems unimpressed. However, she slips off her stool to the ground, brushing off her sooty coat, pausing momentarily to sneeze. Nenemo Nemo: "PSCH!..."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I mean... ev'n me condition could be useful if'n I could -control- it," he insists. "But... oh, ah, bless ya."

Nenemo Nemo: "Alright fine. I don't know why you're so particular about this. It seems to me that any number of people could do what you intend to do. You don't need to put yourself in such needless danger on their behalf. But if it's what you seek out, I suppose I could cobble something together."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Mebbe they could... 'n mebbe better than I ever could. But... I'd still want ta try. Ta be there if'n I can be, ta help if'n I can. Protect who I can." He scratches at his cheeks, which have reddened a bit in embarrassment. "I... want ta see ev'ryone safe, 'n be able ta do all I can ta make tha' happen."

Nenemo Nemo: "It is a shame you cannot put that motivation forward towards your own personal goals. That aside, such a device would likely need to adhere to your body to properly channel aether into it, in the manner of a focus, attuned to your body's frequency much like that of a portable aethryte crystal. Not suitable for teleportation, but other wavelengths of energy can be funneled through it." Nenemo Nemo: "The problem is regulating that flow. I would have to study your body more carefully, but I suspect the issue is a cascading effect in which the body's massive conduciveness to aether pulls in greater and greater amounts until it can contain no more. It is a marvel you haven't exploded yet." Nenemo Nemo notes with disarmingly casual ease.

Chachanji Gegenji: "It -is- me personal goal, though. Ta see ev'ryone down there. Ta see them safely back. If'n th' captain's down there... if'n yer student's down in th' other one. I want ta see them back safely. Whether fer joyous reunion 'r..." A quiet pause. "... fer proper burial."

Nenemo Nemo: "Chachanji dear. You want these things, but not for yourself. You're only considering the needs of those around you. Believe me. I am an expert on selfishness. I have spent my life fleeing from my responsibilities, over and over again. I even faked my own death to get away from them."

Nenemo Nemo 's tone takes on a quiet, sullen tone. Nenemo Nemo: "Wanting to protect others is admirable. But you must value your own life as well. Only then can you weigh properly when and where you mean to sacrifice it." Nenemo Nemo: "A device like this could be considerably dangerous for you."

Chachanji Gegenji shakes his head. "I... do want these thin's fer meself, though," he admits. "'ve nearly lost me family ta the razin'a Doma. Me brother to a coma. A girl I onced loved 'cuz I was too afraid tha' I was more hindrance than help. I... I don't want ta lose anyone. Not if'n there's somethin' I can do about it."

Nenemo Nemo: "..."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I... want ta know I can protect people. Save people. Maybe not be a 'hero' but... at least try ta be somethin' close."

Nenemo Nemo sighs, narrowing her eyes. Nenemo Nemo: "But you're still talking about others. Have you ever considered what you'll be doing years from now? What of your trade? How do you want to advance it? Is it really just to save others' lives, and nothing else?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "But tha's the purpose of a crafter, ain't it? Ya make thin's fer others," he states. "Sure, some folks do it jus' fer profit but... there are those who make thin's 'cuz they want to see others usin' them. Ta see their lives bettered by it. Tha's what I want ta do wit me trade 'n... well... wit meself as well."

Nenemo Nemo shakes her head. "... What a waste. If nothing else, you might make a decent test subject. I can't teach those who aren't willing to learn." She doesn't seem terribly upset, however. Nenemo Nemo: "Fine, I'll make your little gadget. Don't blame me when you draw in so much aether you pop like a balloon."

Chachanji Gegenji gives an awkward chuckle. "S-speakin'a test subject... I... kinda was one a'fore, 'n I thought mebbe th' results'a tha' might help." He reaches into the bag at his side, pulling out a thin lockbox and - from that - he produces what looks like an Arcanist's codex. "There was... um... an alchemist tha' wanted ta try'n replicate what I do. Ta make super soldiers 'r somethin'. These are her notes. If'n they can help... 'n-n if'n ya need ta study me proper... tha's fine too."

Nenemo Nemo pulls the notes into her grasp rather hastily. "Give them here. What are their credentials?" Seseka questions, apparently forgetting her own are rather dubious, so long as she remains unrecognized and a fugitive from Sharlayan. "No, don't bother telling me. I'll discern them for myself. These could perhaps serve my purpose well without needing to do partial biopsy."

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah... sh-she is - or was - a member'a th' Alchemists' Guild?" he offers quickly when she all but snatches the tome from him. "'n-n she was able ta kinda-sorta replicate th' results wit 'er assistant so... I-I guess she figgered at least part'a it out?" He scratches at his cheek, though it pauses at 'biopsy.' He didn't really know what the word meant but... perhaps it was the rabbit that was his spirit animal... he had a feeling that it wasn't a very good word in regards to his own well-being.

Nenemo Nemo: "Drawing ambient aether into the body without proper training or a suitable focus is highly dangerous. It could potentially result in overaspecting, or aether poisoning, or the suffusion of your body with other aetheric maladies. Not to mention the surrounding environment could suffer a catastrophic loss of aether as a result, depending on how depleted it already is. I will have to account for this with the device. A tomestone might be capable of acting as a regulator." Nenemo Nemo: "Many allagan devices are designed to be able to efficiently self-regulate aetherflow such that they cannot exceed capacity, storing the aether away in containers until they can be safely disposed of. I could perhaps re-purpose such a circuit to your needs, and allow for an infusion. Transforming back will be trickier. And most likely, the device would restrict you to an infusion that doesn't exceed the healthy limits your aetherpool could sustain for a short duration." Nenemo Nemo: "In other words, you would only be able to grow so large. Has that dissuaded you enough?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "W-well, if'n it helps... 've had a lotta... practice wit it recently," he offers, a bit of a grimace crossing his features of memories that were obviously a little bittersweet. "So, hopef'lly tha' should help?" He paused as she continued, trying to follow along with her jargon as best as he could. To what success was debatable. "W-wait, so thi' wouldn't jus' be a device tha'd keep me from changin' ev'ry time I get too much aether, but let me activate it 'n control it?" Chachanji Gegenji's eyes grow wide with awe upon seeing you. Chachanji Gegenji had obviously not been dissuaded at all.

Nenemo Nemo: "Practice? How so?" Nenemo Nemo nods. Nenemo Nemo: "It would be an aetheric regulator, similar to that which keeps Allagan devices from overloading. The excess would be stored for use in giving you a safe, regulated infusion of aether, such that for a brief amount of time, you could perhaps grow in size." Nenemo Nemo: "After a certain amount of time, or when you have completed your use of it, the excess aether would be siphoned off of you and stored in a crystal, to be discarded or kept with you as needed."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I made friends wit some... well... they called 'emselves Pixies. They're like Sylphs but more... person-lookin'?" he explained. "'n they liked playin' pranks 'n stuff. 'n tha' included messin' wit me condition once they knew'a it. Tha' 'n... sometimes their pranks backfired 'n needed help dealin' wit th' mess. Which often tended ta be large, too. So... yeah... a lotta practice." A sigh, then a shake of the head. As if to dismiss the negative memories and focus more on the positives of the-- Chachanji Gegenji: --here-and-now. "I... thin' I get what yer sayin' 'n... tha'd be really impressive if'n it can do tha'. I... still ain't wholly comfortable -usin'- th' ability but... I can't lie tha' there's been times I thought it woulda be useful. Like durin' th' storm when th' larger zombie fishmen showed up." Chachanji Gegenji: "But... wit th' difficulty I have usin' it... 'n worryin' 'bout gettin' too big 'n causin' more pro'lems or fear... I hesitated, y'know?"

Nenemo Nemo tilts her head to the side Nenemo Nemo: "... Pixies? I know not of such an organism. Don't you mean sylphs?" Nenemo Nemo thinks to herself. "They sound like sylphs."

Chachanji Gegenji: "I mean, they looked a lot like Sylphs. They jus' called themselves Pixies." He shrugs.

Nenemo Nemo: "Are you sure they weren't just sylphs under a different name?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "'s possible, I jus' went 'long wit it ta try'n keep them happy. Upsettin' 'em jus' meant more pranks."

Nenemo Nemo 's mouth flattens into a thin line. "It would be useful to dissect one. Already deceased, of course. Then I could determine if any physiological differences exist. I believe the sylphs have more in common with seedkin than beastkin or spoken... which are really just beastkin who talk... This categorization really needs to be revised. If only I had been able to continue at the academy..." Nenemo Nemo mutters to herself.

Chachanji Gegenji gets a bit of a worried look, uncertain how the likes of Gria would take to offering up one of their own - deceased or not - for such practices. "W-well, anyroad, 'cuz'a them I spent a lot more time big then I had since... well... since gettin' th' ability ta begin wit. So I 'spose I have them ta thank fer all th' practice."

Nenemo Nemo: "Hm. It will be useful. You may have an inherent feel for how much your aetherpool is able to accommodate of foreign aether." Nenemo Nemo stretches her arms out at her sides. "Much like the limitations of holding one's breath, or straining your muscles to their limit.

Chachanji Gegenji: "Tha's... a neat way ta put it," the little smith admits.

Nenemo Nemo smiles and taps her fist against her chest. Nenemo Nemo: "Immaterial and material are my fields of study. The aetherpool, and by extension, one's anima, are waveforms, true, like an invisible aura of energy within ourselves, but they are as much 'you' as your flesh and blood. And I am quite familiar with manipulating that immaterial half of you." She glances at her mammets. Nenemo Nemo: "People speak of it as a spiritual energy, like a soul, but I believe one day body and 'spirit' will be as manipulable as one's clothing."

Chachanji Gegenji: "'s still 'me', huh...?" he echoes quietly to himself, a soft smile drifting across his features. The phrase reminding him of a more pleasant collection of memories. "Chagenji is Chagenji," he murmurs quietly with a chuckle before looking back up at Seseka. Seemingly having missed the last part about the goals of body and spirit manipulation in the process. He awkwardly tries to cover that fact, though. "W-well, seems like I was right tha' ya'd be th' best person ta ask fer help on thi'."

Nenemo Nemo: "Of course I am. I am a professor of aetherochemistry, and far more versed in these matters than any of my tedious peers. Aside from perhaps Loloki. But nevermind that ruin-diving, dust-encrusted scarab." Nenemo Nemo recounts her peer with a faint tone of amusement.

Chachanji Gegenji: "... Loloki?" he echoes, the name seeming... vaguely familiar. Perhaps he had encountered her once? "W-well, if'n thi' gadget will be able ta do all th' thin's I thin' yer sayin' it can... 's ev'n more than what I was hopin' fer."

Nenemo Nemo: "I will need to do some limited testing on you, but I expect I should be able to succeed. In return, I only ask you work hard procuring any materials I require for the construction of a device. Oh, and out of curiosity, how did you manage a solution to the matter of well, your clothes?"

Chachanji Gegenji: "Oh, ah... tha's a bit of a group effort, act'lly," Chachan admitted. "I know a tailor who's partner changes size - though not ta th' degree I do - 'n made special cloth ta accommodate 'er. Tha' plus th' runic leatherworkin' I learned from th' Nu Mou 'n... well, 've managed ta make at least some outfits tha' scale wit me ta some degree. I hafta wear them fer a bit, a'course. 'Soulbindin'' I thin' was th' term fer it."

Nenemo Nemo: "Hmm... Nu Mou? You've been to some strange places. I've not heard of these people either. A leatherworking cooperative?" Nenemo Nemo: "I will have to draw upon your knowledge to make certain my methods of adapting the device to fit you properly aren't inconsistent with theirs."

Chachanji Gegenji: "Cooperative's prolly a good word," Chachan stated with a chuckle. "They 'pparently REALLY liked bein' able ta help others. 'course, they were SUPER strict 'bout the rules of th' exchange. Like... if they asked fer three frog legs fer their work, they wanted EXACTLY three. No more, no less. Got... kinda scary 'bout it, honestly..." A brief shiver. "A-anyroad, yer helpin' me out a lot wit all thi', so I'll help ya wit as much of it as I can."

Nenemo Nemo: "Yes, yes that's fine. I will get to work immediately with the immediate research needed to plan the specifications of this regulator, so for the time being, shoo!" Nenemo Nemo ushers Chachanji off hastily, clearly more obsessed with the idea of putting together the device now than anything else she was previously working on. Hopefully she won't be TOO distracted from her work maintaining the submersible until it is used again.

Chachanji Gegenji: "A-ah... w-wait, there was th' other reason tha' I came too... th-th' one tha' wasn't jus' lookin' fer a favor!" he interjected quickly as he's being Lalafellhandled out towards the door. "I-I mean it tha' I want ta see all'a ya akay! 'n-n I saw Mr. Alec say somethin' ta ya tha' seemed ta freak ya out! S-so... um..." A pause at the door, since she had managed to jostle him all the way there. "I-if'n yer in trouble, 'r... 'r jus' need an ear ta bend. Lemme know, akay?"

Nenemo Nemo grins toothily. "Don't you worry about it dear. Worst comes to worst, I'll just put him to sleep with one of my lectures!" Nenemo Nemo: "But thank you."

Chachanji Gegenji pouts, but relents. "I-if'n ya say so. Jus'... wanted ta put tha' offer out there, is all. We're all in thi' t'gether, right?"

Nenemo Nemo: "Of COURSE we are. Don't sweat the details, Chachanji darling. It's just a bit of old people chattering about, that's all. I won't divulge the secrets of my research to him so easily."

Chachanji Gegenji nods before heading out the door. "Akay. Jus' know yer one'a th' ones I want ta keep safe too, Ms. Seseka." He adjusted his bag. "A-anyroad, I should get these spices ta Ms. Aya. Let me know if'n ya need me!"

Nenemo Nemo: "Go already! I have to get to work on your device! Don't make me boot you out the door!"

Chachanji Gegenji: "'m goin', 'm goin'!"

Nenemo Nemo shooes him away, all but booting him bodily from the warehouse.

#ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv rp #rp log #seseka #chachanji

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bevioletskies · 6 years

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don’t you (forget about me) [8/8]

summary: despite being total opposites, gamora always considered mantis to be her best friend, having lived across the street from her since they were five. if only she didn’t have an annoying, obnoxious, loud-mouthed, ridiculously attractive, kind-hearted, charismatic big brother who liked to hover - then she would be perfect.

or: peter’s been in love with his sister’s best friend his entire life. gamora isn’t exactly sure what it is she’s feeling, until there comes a point in their lives where she may never see him again.

word count: 5.1k

a/n: fic title is from the song don’t you (forget about me) by simple minds.

“You are going to be okay. You deserve to be okay. We all do.”

ao3 | tag

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up, in the morning when the day is new...

And after having spent the day together, hold each other close the whole night through...

Peter woke to the feeling of two very distinct sensations - one: the feeling of Gamora curled against his chest with her hands loosely resting on his hips while his arms were around her waist, her breathing in near-perfect sync with his, the crown of her head nestled neatly underneath his chin. Second: the feeling of water (or rather, he desperately hoped it was just water) being dripped onto his cheek, which, considering the proximity of their heads, was now sliding down into Gamora’s hair.

He yelped in realization at what was happening, using the sleeve of his shirt to hastily wipe at his face and pat down Gamora’s head, then sat up to glare at the culprits. Rocket and Groot were hovering over them, snickering, looking incredibly pleased with themselves. “Really, guys? What are you, five?”

Gamora stirred at the sound of Peter’s voice, smiling sleepily at him before turning to glare daggers in Rocket’s direction. “Rocket,” she growled. “What did you do?”

“Oh, nothin’. What did you do?” Rocket grinned, wiggling his eyebrows lecherously, and he and Groot promptly hightailed it out of the den. Groaning, Peter slumped back onto the pillows in defeat, noting that the two of them were alone; everyone else seemed to have woken up and left the room a while ago.

“I’m gonna kill ‘em,” Peter declared, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “And you can’t stop me.”

“Believe me, I’m with you on that one,” Gamora said, laying back down beside him. “So...you get the news today. But you said you’ve already decided, one way or the other.”

“I have,” Peter nodded, drumming his fingers absentmindedly on his stomach to the beat of a song only he could hear. “I should go grab my computer and get everyone in the kitchen. Think it’s about time I tell you guys that I’ve finally got it all figured out.”

Gamora smiled as Peter quickly kissed her before standing and heading upstairs, sighing contentedly. There was no limit to her vocabulary when it came to describing her and Peter’s relationship, especially in its newest form, but the one word that came to mind throughout the years was comfortable. She literally felt warmer snuggled up to him, sure, but their presence grounded one another, a far cry from both of their previous relationship histories.

She got up as well, quickly ducking into the bedrooms to let the others know what Peter was up to. Drax and Mantis seemed to have taken over the kitchen already, preparing breakfast for the entire group, while Yondu was drifting off at the table, yawning and rubbing his eyes constantly. “What’s goin’ on, Gamora?” he asked, stretching exaggeratedly in his seat.

“What else? Peter wants our attention,” she smirked.

“I’ve got somethin’ to tell you,” Peter announced loudly, strolling into the room as if to make Gamora’s point. He set his laptop down on the counter by Gamora, though he was quick to close it before anyone could see what was on the screen. “First, I guess - Gamora and I are...we’re…” He squinted a little. “I just realized we never talked about what this was gonna be. I mean, I just assumed - ”

“You’re my boyfriend, Peter,” Gamora interrupted exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. None of the others seemed all that surprised, which was understandable considering how Peter and Gamora had been wrapped up in each other’s arms with no attempt to hide what had conspired last night. Yondu, on the other hand, nearly fell out of his chair at the news.

“Really?” he exclaimed. “Well, it’s about damn time! You was both startin’ to get on my nerves with all the runaround, ‘they don’t feel the same way’ nonsense. Lemme guess - it was you who said somethin’ first, Gamora. We both know how defensive he gets sometimes.”

“Hey,” Peter protested. “I do not get - okay, you got a point.”

“I am so relieved,” Mantis groaned to everyone’s amusement, sinking into the chair beside Yondu. “Do you know how hard it was to know about your feelings and not say anything? For fifteen years?”

Peter and Gamora turned to look at each other, both slightly rosy-cheeked in embarrassment, but they couldn’t help but grin adoringly as well. He threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in closer, while she slid her arm behind his waist, squeezing him in affection. Rocket gagged. “Oh man, it’s startin’,” he muttered to Groot, who merely shrugged, unbothered as always.

“Okay, next - I got a message from the Nova Corps.” It felt like the entire room was holding their breath as Peter momentarily let go of Gamora to open his laptop. A few torturously quiet seconds passed while he turned it around so they could see. “I got in!”

The kitchen practically exploded with sound and movement as they all crowded in to throw their arms around Peter, shouting their congratulations over one another, getting louder and louder until Yondu was fairly certain their neighbors were going to call the cops, and yelled for everyone to shut up. Once they settled down and moved back into their seats, chatting excitedly, Gamora gravitated back to Peter’s side. “I’m proud of you, Peter,” she said softly. “I have to admit, when you told me about this a week ago, I just assumed you did it out of boredom. But I’ve seen your dedication before, in the way you take care of what’s yours, and this proves it tenfold.”

“Thanks, Gamora.” Peter wrapped her in a hug, kissing her forehead. “It means a lot, hearing you say that. But I’m not finished yet.” She looked at him curiously, but he simply released her so he could pull up another screen. “So, uh, I sent in an application for somethin’ else a few days ago. A college application, actually.”

“What?” Gamora’s eyes widened. Mantis got up from the dining table to cross the room, her antennae lit up in curiosity.

“Yeah, I actually applied to a few schools. Stayed up a little late to finish ‘em, but it was worth it,” he smiled. “And I got accepted. To all of ‘em. Including my first choice, which is great, ‘cos it’s where the two most important women in my life are going, too.”

Mantis clutched at Gamora’s arm in shock, her fingernails digging into her skin. “Peter, does this mean…?”

“I gotta do one of those sit-down interviews first, and I’m just in general studies until I can declare my major, but...yeah, I’m going back to school.” Peter broke out into a huge grin. “I’m super out of practice, so I’m gonna need some help, but it’s gonna happen. I want to be a teacher. You guys know I’ve never been great at school, but...I liked learning. I wanna make that happen for kids. Make school an awesome experience for ‘em. I don’t know what I’m gonna teach or what age group or anything like that, but...I’ve got time to figure it out.”

Mantis flung her arms around her brother, sinking into his side with a relieved sigh. “Oh, Peter, I am so happy for you,” she breathed, burrowing into his shoulder. “You are going to be the best teacher in the entire universe, I know it!” Rocket and Groot were next to join in on the embrace with whoops of joy, and even Nebula took a step closer like she was seriously considering it.

“Being a teacher would suit you better than a soldier, Quill. You are something of a child yourself,” Drax commented, clapping Peter on the back. The group jolted unpleasantly at the sudden contact.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Gamora said with a euphoric laugh. Peter made another sound of protest but ducked his head to kiss her anyways, causing everyone to groan exaggeratedly.

He withdrew from her to glance over everyone’s heads across the room at Yondu, who hadn’t moved from the table at all. “...Yondu?”

“You done me proud, boy,” Yondu said thickly, and as if everyone wasn’t already emotional enough, he appeared to be tearing up. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, his jaw clenched to prevent himself from crying. “I shoulda told you two years ago that you didn’t hafta stay for me. I was sick, but I wasn’t that sick, and the shop was gonna be jus’ fine without you. But I didn’t, and I’ve been feelin’ awful about it ever since. And you got too much of a soft heart, so you woulda never listened to me, anyway. I’m real glad you’re doin’ it now.”

“Aw, Yondu - ” Peter stepped out of the group embrace to jog over and wrap himself tightly around Yondu’s shoulders, causing him to cry out in surprise. “I’m gonna keep makin’ you proud, okay? Always.” Yondu nodded sharply, patting Peter on the back. “But...I do kinda need my job back for the rest of the year. Gotta save up some more money for tuition and books and stuff.”

“You’re hired,” Yondu laughed wetly, sniffling. “I don’t trust no one else with the register. Not even these hooligans.”

“These ‘hooligans’ are offended by your insinuation,” Rocket called without any real bite.

“Hold on, so you’re staying here for another semester?” Gamora asked. “Like me?”

“I don’t wanna rush it,” Peter replied, letting go of Yondu so he could walk back to her. “Gotta take my time and get ready, ‘cos I’ve been outta school for almost three years now. From what I’ve heard, college don’t sound like a walk in the park.”

“That’s an understatement,” Gamora deadpanned, smiling. “It would’ve been a little strange if you had your first semester of school while I’m back home. It’s good to know we’ll be here together.”

“And when you got some time for me, I’ve got some date ideas in mind,” Peter murmured, sliding his arms around her waist.

“Can we get breakfast goin’ so I at least have something to throw up when these two start makin’ out in the kitchen?” Rocket demanded. Peter flipped him off in response, leaning down to kiss Gamora again, regardless of the ensuing protests.

Mantis and Drax finally finished serving breakfast a few minutes later, the entire group crowding in at the dining table, chattering loudly over each other once more. “Seriously, enough about me. What’re you guys gonna be up to? For the long-term, or whatever?” Peter asked.

“Me n’ Groot can stay at the store forever. Don’t need a fancy lifestyle,” Rocket shrugged. “Though if we can go on more of those buying trips and get at the goods first - ”

“I seen you around shiny things, boy, don’t count on it,” Yondu snorted.

"I am Groot," Groot agreed.

“I plan on proposing to Hovat on her next birthday,” Drax said proudly, though there was an endearing shyness in his voice, too. “It will mostly be a formality, as we have discussed marriage at length already, but now feels like the right time. Then we can move in together and start a family. I know we both especially want a daughter.”

The room exploded in congratulations once more, everyone reaching around to squeeze Drax’s shoulder, or in Mantis’s case, hug him even tighter than he had done to Peter before. “That’s awesome, dude!” Peter exclaimed. “She’s definitely gonna say yes. And if you need someone to look after your future kids, you know who to call.”

Drax paused. “Who?”

“Peter will teach your children how to swear and dance, Drax, you would be better off leaving them with Mantis,” Gamora said dryly, smirking at Peter, who looked half-offended. Drax shuddered at the very thought.

“I have already started looking at places where we can open a clinic,” Mantis confessed, raising her hand tentatively like they were still in school. “I know it is way too early, but I liked the idea so much that I thought I would see what opportunities we have.”

“Show me what you’ve found,” Gamora said, brightening. “Who knows, maybe we’ll find a fixer-upper and save it from being turned into one of those franchises. Get it cleaned up so it’s ready for us by the time we graduate.”

“I was thinking of taking some local classes,” Nebula mumbled, almost as if she didn’t want anyone to hear. Gamora’s eyes nearly popped out of her head in shock. “I’ve spent far too long sitting around at home, staring at the wall. I need something to do before I lose my mind from boredom.”

“Not the worst reason I’ve ever heard,” Gamora said, relieved. “Do you want some help looking at courses?”

The corner of Nebula’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Maybe.”

“Look at all of us,” Peter declared, setting his fork down. “Movin’ up in the world. Well, kinda. We’re all still sort of...here.”

“Maybe ‘here’ isn’t so bad, after all,” Gamora said quietly. “Maybe we can move forward without moving on.”

“I like the sound of that!” Yondu agreed, raising his coffee mug. “I hate to say it, but...you kids keep me young. An’ broke as hell.”

“Cheers to that,” Peter snorted, also lifting his cup. Everyone else followed suit, grinning happily at each other from across the table. ______

Gamora stared out the window, apprehensive yet curious, at the iron-wrought gate that came into view as Peter pulled the car into the drive. She scanned the name embedded in the metal, and suddenly, it dawned on her what they were doing here. “Peter?”

“Okay, so this isn’t the best first date ever, but I promise it’s gonna be...memorable?” Peter winced a little. “I know we gotta be on the road soon, drive you back to your school - ”

“Soon to be our school,” Gamora reminded him.

Peter grinned, nodding happily. “Right, our school. I have to drive you both back to our school in a few hours, but I said I was gonna bring you here, didn’t I?”

She smiled, leaning back a little in her seat to fix her gaze on him. It was strange, thinking about how distant they had been a week ago, how they had slipped out of each other’s lives in the past two years, only to become intimately acquainted like never before. Distance hadn’t made the heart grow fonder, but time seemed to have done the trick. “So take me there.”

Once they parked and got out of the car, Peter immediately reached for Gamora’s hand, pleased by the way her fingers automatically tangled with his as if they had done this many times before. He led her across the lush green lawn of the cemetery toward his mother’s empty grave. The grounds were unsurprisingly empty, considering it was a warm Sunday morning and people had far less morbid places to be. So, Peter laid out a blanket like he had last time, and he and Gamora sat down, cross-legged, in front of Meredith’s headstone.

“So obviously, my mom is actually buried somewhere in St. Charles, back on Earth, but I got this plot for her anyways so I have somewhere to go. See her when I’m thinkin’ of her, when I need advice, when I just...wanna talk to her again.” Peter smiled sadly. “I asked Yondu to help me set this up as my tenth birthday present. He said it was kinda depressing, but he didn’t ask any questions, just...did it. Mantis is the only other person who knows this is here. Well, until now.”

“It’s a really good idea,” Gamora commented. “I wish I had thought of it for my parents, too. But by now, I...I’ve long forgotten how to talk to them. I don’t know what I would even talk to them about.”

“Not too late,” Peter insisted with a shrug. “After you finish school for the year and come back home, maybe you can do it, too. Y’know, only if you want to.”

“Maybe I will.” They sat in contemplative silence for a moment, the mild late summer winds whistling through their hair. Eventually, Peter shuffled a little closer so he was kneeling right in front of the headstone.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, clearing his throat. “Said I was gonna be back, so here I am. Things’ve changed a lot since I was here a few days ago, so I thought I’d give you an update. I, uh, I brought someone to meet you today. I mean, you kind of know her, I’ve talked about her a lot.” He turned briefly to smile at Gamora. “I told you about this awesome girl who was just so... confident, and smart, and passionate about the stuff she really cared about. She really knew her values, and I always admired that. Having convictions, having morals. I was never good at any of that,” he admitted, laughing. “I think I would’ve been a different person if she hadn’t grown up across the street from me. And not to brag, but I think the same goes for her.” Gamora nodded in agreement. “And, uh, she’s my girlfriend now. One of my best friends in the entire universe. We’ve officially been dating for about...thirty-six hours? But we’ve already got plans, y’know? Long-term plans.”

“I decided not to join the Nova Corps, after all. It just wasn’t for me, that kind of thing. I gotta figure some stuff out on my own, and having someone tell me what to do don’t seem like the right way to do it. So I’m going back to school next year to become a teacher. That’s the plan, anyway. Who knows, I might find something else I’m really into. And I’ll be going to the same place as Mantis and Gamora, so we’re gonna get an apartment together, close to campus. When they graduate, they’re gonna come back here and open a women’s clinic together. I’ll have another year or two of school after that, and then I’ll come back and be a teacher.” Peter plucked at the grass, lowering his head. “Maybe it sounds unrealistic, but you know I’ve always been a dreamer. I just...I wish you were here to see it.”

Gamora reached over to squeeze Peter’s shoulder reassuringly. He laid his hand on top of hers, patting her gratefully. “I miss you, Mom. I’m always gonna miss you. But I think I’m gonna be okay.”

Peter settled back on the blanket, still loosely holding Gamora’s hand between them. “You are going to be okay,” she said quietly. “You deserve to be okay. We all do.”

“The last time I was here, I told Mantis I didn’t wanna be the guy that works, lives, and dies in one place,” he said, turning to look at her. “I guess that’s sorta what’s happening, anyways. But I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. Not when I got you and everyone else with me.”

Gamora nodded silently, unsure of what else to say that hadn’t already been said. There was something oddly peaceful about being here, something contemplative. Her mind had been so preoccupied with thoughts of the past and the future all week, that now, she felt still, and she didn’t want it any other way.

“You look like you’re thinkin’ about something.” Peter pulled his legs up into his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees as he fixed his gaze on her.

“Actually, I’m really not,” Gamora said. “I know that when I go back to school, I have assignments to catch up on, exams to study for, but...coming back here really made everything so much clearer. About me, about Nebula, about us.”

“That’s awesome,” Peter said sincerely, smiling when she shuffled closer to lean against him, her body sinking into his. “This is gonna sound super cheesy, but...you really inspire me, Gamora. I’d be lying if I said you weren’t my biggest influence, with me going back to school and all. And I’m actually really excited about it, even though I never liked going to class, doing homework, all that stuff. I get to work hard on somethin’ I wanna do, I get to be with you and Mantis every day like when we were kids, and I’m gonna make Mom and Yondu proud.”

“You’ve already made your family proud,” Gamora insisted, reaching over to gently push his hair out of his eyes, sliding her hand along the underside of his jaw. “I can only hope I can do the same with my sister.”

“You know you will.” Peter stretched his legs out so he could gently tug Gamora halfway into his lap, her knees laid on top of his. “And you also know that you’re family, too. Always have been. ‘Cept you’re definitely not my sister.”

“Good, because that would make this weird,” Gamora chuckled, leaning up to briefly kiss him. “I love you.”

Peter’s heart melted a little, tilting his face just the slightest bit so he could kiss her again. “I love you, too.” ______

Fifteen years ago

Peter had to admit, when it came to making friends, it had been far easier back on Earth than it was on Xandar. Growing up in St. Charles, though it certainly wasn’t the smallest town around, there was an inherent friendliness built into the community - “oh, you’re Meredith’s boy!” people would say, because it seemed like everyone knew and adored Meredith Quill, and they would welcome Peter with open arms. Here, however, there was a social bubble around him, partially because of his heritage (he was pretty much the only Terran who had ever lived outside of their own planet), but mostly because of Mantis.

Mantis was the kind of child that the others liked to avoid, given her abilities. Her control over them was wildly unpredictable, manageable only when she was completely relaxed, and it scared most people, even adults. Peter wasn’t about to abandon his sister, especially for friends who were frightened of her, anyway. It was why he had been especially eager to befriend Gamora and Nebula, who seemed socially isolated as well.

Their first few weeks on Xandar had mostly been trial and error, figuring out where their boundaries were - Peter wasn’t in the business of making his potential new friends uncomfortable, though he knew he had the tendency to be over-enthusiastic, regardless of how hard he tried not to be. The sisters were slowly warming up to Mantis more so than Peter, given her similarly shy, inward nature, and the three of them often sat in the den together, quietly chatting with the TV playing in the background. Sometimes, Peter tried to join in, but he found himself more bored than anything. He was trying, though.

A knock on the front door sent Peter practically flying down the stairs, resulting in Yondu calling after him from the kitchen, scolding him about running in the house, as always. He opened the door, somewhat out of breath, and was startled to find Gamora standing there by herself, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “Hi,” he said, astonished.

“Nebula fell out of a window trying to run away and broke her arm, so Tanak and Mexa have to take her to the hospital,” Gamora said matter-of-factly. “Can I stay here until they get back?”

“Who’s at the door, boy?”

“It’s Gamora!” Peter shouted back. Gamora winced from the sheer volume of his voice. “Nebula broke her arm so she’s gotta stay with us ‘til they’re back from the doc.”

“Then let her in already!”

Peter smiled beatifically. “Come in.” Gamora shot him a weird look before carefully stepping into the house. She briefly disappeared into the kitchen to get her customary juice box from Yondu, then crossed the hallway to join Peter in the den. He was already flipping through all the television channels, hoping to find something to entertain her for a few hours. They had never really been alone before, the two of them, since one of their sisters usually acted as a buffer. Well, Mantis was a good buffer, able to maintain conversation that wasn’t incredibly stilted. Nebula liked to make things more difficult just because she could. “How long are they gonna be gone?”

“I don’t know.” Gamora sipped on her straw politely. It was only then that Peter noticed her hands were trembling.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

Gamora looked uncertain of whether to answer, slowly lowering the juice box into her lap. “The sound she made when she hit the ground…” She shuddered. “I didn’t think I would ever have to hear her scream like that again.”

“Because of...right.” Peter trailed off, knowing better than to bring it up. They hadn’t even spoken Thanos’s name since their first day here, and he suspected they wanted to keep it that way. “Um, so do you wanna do somethin’? Like, I got card games and board games...or this weird spinning toy thingy that Yondu found at a trading post for me. Or at least, I think it’s a toy.”

“I don’t know,” she repeated, sounding far sadder this time.

“You wanna...talk?” Peter wanted to take it back the moment he said it. The fact Gamora had even admitted her fear of Nebula being hurt again was far more revealing than anything she had ever said to him before. Asking more of her was probably just going to make her mad, something Peter was unfortunately very good at.

“Can I…?” Gamora hesitated. She set her juice box down on the coffee table and reached across its surface for the Walkman, eyeing it curiously. Peter watched as she turned it over in her hands, fiddling with the buttons. He had only played music for her and Nebula once, who both seemed largely averse to it, so he hadn’t done it since. Seeing Gamora hold the headphones up to her ear, however, told Peter that she wasn’t nearly as opposed to it as he thought.

“Want me to find a song for you?” he offered. She nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to ask, and held it out to him. He found a gentle song, something that soothed him whenever he was feeling particularly antsy, and set the Walkman down between them.

I took my love, I took it down...climbed a mountain and I turned around…

And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills...'til the landslide brought me down...

He laid down on the couch, his feet hanging over the edge of the armrest, and Gamora followed suit on the opposite end, albeit a little uncertainly. Their heads were side-by-side, with her chin by his forehead and vice versa. They had never been this close before; he could almost count every individual eyelash, name all the shades of brown in her eyes. “You don’t hafta talk about it if you don’t wanna. I can talk enough for the both of us.”

“Because you like the sound of your own voice?” Gamora asked tentatively.

Peter was almost offended until he remembered it was what Mantis had said about him when they first met, and he laughed instead. “No, ‘cos you don’t wanna tell me. And that’s okay. There’s some stuff I don’t wanna talk about, either.”

Gamora tilted her head slightly to meet his eyes. “Your mother?” she guessed.

“Yeah. And my daddy.” Peter shuddered. “An’ now they’re both gone.”

“At least you have Yondu.” Gamora turned onto her back to stare at the ceiling. If she stared long enough, she could pick out patterns and images in its pebbly texture. The greenish-hazels of Peter’s eyes felt too intense for her. “My parents are gone, too. I just have Nebula.”

“We can be your family, too,” Peter offered. “Me, and Mantis, and Yondu.”

“Maybe,” Gamora hummed. “I’ve never had a brother before.”

Peter paused. Maybe Gamora was in a chattier mood than he initially thought. “Why’s Nebula tryin’ to run away? You have it good here, right? Better than, y’know, before.”

“I don’t think she likes people very much,” Gamora said thoughtfully. “Tanak and Mexa are nice, but...she’s used to being yelled at, and hit, and thrown around. She was hurt a lot more than me and the other kids. It’s why I wanted to save her first. But...I didn’t get to save anyone else.”

“How’d you do it?” Peter asked.

“I snuck into a ship one day, and I called the Nova Corps. They came to Titan and tried to kill as many bad guys as they could. I told the officer to take Nebula first, but then something went real wrong and the Corps ship had to take off, so they grabbed me and her, and left.” Gamora sank a little further into the couch cushions. “Maybe Nebula wants to go back. To the other kids. She might like them more than she likes me.”

“But you saved her,” Peter exclaimed. “That don’t make any sense.”

“Maybe I didn’t really save her.” Gamora sighed, rolling onto her side to face him. Peter wasn’t exactly sure what she meant, but he had the feeling she would explain it to him one day. “What about...what about you and Mantis?”

“Yondu used to take kids to my daddy, like me and Mantis. I guess we were the only ones that were actually his, ‘cos he kept us around. I saw other kids sometimes, and I dunno what happened to ‘em. I have an idea, though.” Peter swallowed. “An’ one day, Yondu said he had enough of my daddy, and he took us here instead. Said he won’t tell me what happened ‘til I’m older, but...I think he killed my daddy. He was real mean to Mantis, and wasn’t so nice to me either, so...I’m kinda glad he’s gone. Is that...bad?”

“I wish Thanos was gone.” Gamora smiled ruefully. “So no, I don’t think that’s bad.”

“Do you wanna run away, too?” Slowly, Peter reached over to take her hand. “I hope you don’t, ‘cos...I like havin’ you here. Don’t got a lot of other friends.”

“I kind of like it here,” Gamora admitted. “I feel...safe. Like I’m going to be okay.”

“You are gonna be okay,” Peter insisted, squeezing her hand. He barely registered the song switching to something more upbeat, almost as if the Walkman could sense the shift in the room’s mood. “So, um...are we friends?”

Her expression softened, her smile slowly widening, and he felt a strange ache in his chest that he couldn’t quite identify. Then, to his amazement, she giggled, something musical and warm and unlike any other sound he’d ever heard her make before. Her grip on his hand tightened just the slightest bit, squeezing back.

“Yes, I think we’re friends.”

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older, then we wouldn't have to wait so long…

And wouldn't it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belong...

a/n: and here we are at the end of my little summertime fluff fic! i really liked writing this sort of low-key, low-conflict fic after the more complex everybody wants to rule the world, so much so that i have a lot of flashback scenes on the cutting room floor that i might post someday. if anything, i like the idea of writing the adventures that they've alluded to throughout the fic, so i might revisit this au down the road!

everyone else's songlists for peter's going-away present are as follows: Mantis - Wouldn't It Be Nice, Build Me Up Buttercup, You're My Best Friend, Daydream Believer, The Way You Do The Things You Do Yondu - Rocket Man, Everyday People, The House Of The Rising Sun, Hotel California, Father and Son Rocket - Southern Nights, Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang, Everybody Wants To Rule The World, Rich Girl, Come A Little Bit Closer Groot - Mr. Blue Sky, September, Spirit In The Sky, Baba O'Riley, I Want You Back Nebula - It's Raining Men, Take On Me, Total Eclipse of the Heart, Every Breath You Take, Careless Whisper

(as mentioned before, drax didn't make one because it felt disingenuous, and nebula was definitely playing a joke. the song at the beginning and end of the chapter is Wouldn't It Be Nice, and the song peter played gamora in the flashback is Landslide once again.)

thank you so much to everyone who has read, commented, kudoed, liked, and/or reblogged this fic! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it. my next starmora fic will be starting in the last week of september, which you can read about on my wip page (and i've alluded to it strongly here as well), though i take peter/gamora and scott/hope fic requests at any time and have a couple prompt fills that i will be posting between now and then. i hope to see you again in a future fic, and thanks again for being so lovely!

#starmora #starmora fic #peter x gamora #gamora x peter #myfic #myfic: don't you #marvel #and that's it!!#i hope y'all enjoyed this one :)#my next main fic is coming in sept but the last part of 'nothing's gonna stop us now' will be next fri #plus i've got prompt fills and stuff

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