The stop and the wave. Only the damn kid would pull that kind of a move off and it tugged at a string deep in Peter's heart, almost to the point of bringing him to tears. Almost. He'd learned too long ago, though, about how one held tears back. He did it now and took a deep breath.
Then came the voice; as he'd gotten lost in thoughts, the kid had moved off to one of hatches and had spoken. It was even the same voice. Asking him. Peter knew he could have said no, but to do so would have been to cut out a piece of himself and while he had done things in the past... very, very bad things- he knew he couldn't ever walk back from something like that. Another breath.
Peter reached down to press some controls and safely open up the airlock for Richie.
He'd never been in this ship, but he could guess where to find Peter. At the helm.
It was only that different designers put that in different parts of it. But Rich found it, anyway.
Peter was sitting there, hunched a little, over the controls. He didn't look up at the sound of his steps, and Rich's heart clenched at that. He wanted to go to him, to hold him and ask so many things. How he'd been doing since that flarking universe? How was he now? What was he doing? What news?
Instead, he leaned back against the wall by the entrance of the 'bridge.'
"You know. You should consider some sort of thing that tracks your location across the universe. I've been looking for you exclusively for days. It's a big place, and all that."
Edited (wording at the very end) 2014-10-21 03:51 (UTC)
Peter felt Richie's presence at his back like some kind of an electromagnetic force, tingling across his skin and into his flesh, swirling about his neck. He still refused to look back to the younger man, afraid of what he might see there, though he knew it was irrational at this point.
"Days? Guess I need to up my game when it comes to staying hidden." Peter's voice was gruff, filled with all the emotions he couldn't quite place or name. He finally turned his head over his shoulder and looked at Richie, his blue eyes weary and wary.
"I said exclusively. I've been poking and prodding for information since I popped back in again." It had been months. He could - almost - talk about it as though it was something normal. Or easy. Or something like that.
It wasn't. It was pain and loss and emptiness and floating in the void for... he didn't even know how long, alone, not knowing who he was. It still haunted his eyes, sunken in his face even when they clearly lit up with the sight of Peter again.
Then he sighed, stepping closer to Peter and reaching to rest one arm over the back of the chair on the other man's shoulder. He could see so much more time in those eyes, familiar and yet changed. Instead of all the words he'd thought he'd say, what came out was simple.
Peter felt like he'd snap in two from all the tension building in his body as Rich came that final distance to drape an arm over his shoulder. His brows knit together.
"Bad? I dunno what you're talking about." It wasn't like one of the loves of your life coming back from the seeming dead was anything for a person to be utterly confused over. He should have been happy - he was happy - but suddenly, all of his desires and frustrations were thrown into stark relief once more. It hurt.
Rich's voice was as gentle as he could make it. He was worried, but he probably didn't have the right to push. Maybe apologize, or at least explain.
... and yet all the words felt wrong. One of us alive here was better than both of us stuck there could do, but it wouldn't. Your life matters more than my death just didn't work, when he could practically feel misery roiling off Peter.
Instead, he just bowed his head. "You seem less fine than I was after ripping Annihilus's guts through his mouth. And that's okay. Not wanting to talk to me is... I guess okay. I just had to... see you."
The lump in his throat stopped any further actual words. He was trying not to cry, he really was, but, for the first time since he fully came to, for the first time from being busy and rebuilding and fixing things that could be fixed, he could feel the enormity of what had happened. The enormity of hurt - to others, more than to himself - and and it felt horrible. He had done it to them. To Peter. He had no right to cry or be comforted.
And yet Peter could sense that pain, almost as if it were radiating through that mark on his arm, but it was so much simpler than that. He knew this man, had fought and lived beside him through one of the most harrowing experiences a living creature could go through. He knew pain. Peter looked up to the kid and saw how he was fighting to hold back his tears and everything else. He finally swallowed his own feelings to reach out and take hold of the kid's arm.
"It's kind of scary, seeing a scar turn back into a normal mark, kid. It's kind of like tearing a wound open again." And that was exactly what it was - the scar had torn itself open, only to quickly heal itself in black. It hurt. Not as much seeing Rich in pain hurt, though.
Rich took a breath, though it was kind of shaky, and tried to apologize. Tried to at least ask that Peter knew he had to do what he did, right? But it didn't come out. It didn't matter, did it? It was a wound he had torn in the man he loved, and now he had torn it open again. This time, maybe, for the better, but it didn't matter.
It was a wound all the same.
"What can I do?"
It came out raw, raspy, but he owed it, to both of them. Because Peter gave him honesty. I'll be fine was better, infinitely more likely, than I'm fine. Sometimes, others could help bring that 'fine' about.
Other times, not even the nearest and dearest people couldn't.
If Peter knew which one it was, Rich would do that. If not...
"Nothing," Peter replied quickly, putting his hands up in protest. He put on a smile, trying to just turn this situation away from the tense mess that it was becoming.
"Like I said, I'll be fine and we've still got to get you back to Earth. People're gonna be missing you."
Rich flinched, his eyes wide on Peter, at the quick response. There's nothing you can do. The last person in the universe he'd have expected that from, though perhaps he should have.
But Peter Quill was also the person who knew best just how ofter Rich accepted that statement. Never, in particular. Rich's jaw set, and his eyes grew harder, from helpless and lost to determined. Whatever damage he had done, he'd find a way beyond it. He had to, for both of them.
"I was there. My brother has learned to throw a good punch." Not that he hadn't earned it. "Though that's still got people left, if you're stir-crazy or something. An old Nova ship with the Worldmind and an older Nova and maybe a few trainees."
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no subject
Then came the voice; as he'd gotten lost in thoughts, the kid had moved off to one of hatches and had spoken. It was even the same voice. Asking him. Peter knew he could have said no, but to do so would have been to cut out a piece of himself and while he had done things in the past... very, very bad things- he knew he couldn't ever walk back from something like that. Another breath.
Peter reached down to press some controls and safely open up the airlock for Richie.
no subject
It was only that different designers put that in different parts of it. But Rich found it, anyway.
Peter was sitting there, hunched a little, over the controls. He didn't look up at the sound of his steps, and Rich's heart clenched at that. He wanted to go to him, to hold him and ask so many things. How he'd been doing since that flarking universe? How was he now? What was he doing? What news?
Instead, he leaned back against the wall by the entrance of the 'bridge.'
"You know. You should consider some sort of thing that tracks your location across the universe. I've been looking for you exclusively for days. It's a big place, and all that."
no subject
"Days? Guess I need to up my game when it comes to staying hidden." Peter's voice was gruff, filled with all the emotions he couldn't quite place or name. He finally turned his head over his shoulder and looked at Richie, his blue eyes weary and wary.
no subject
It wasn't. It was pain and loss and emptiness and floating in the void for... he didn't even know how long, alone, not knowing who he was. It still haunted his eyes, sunken in his face even when they clearly lit up with the sight of Peter again.
Then he sighed, stepping closer to Peter and reaching to rest one arm over the back of the chair on the other man's shoulder. He could see so much more time in those eyes, familiar and yet changed. Instead of all the words he'd thought he'd say, what came out was simple.
"That bad, huh?"
no subject
"Bad? I dunno what you're talking about." It wasn't like one of the loves of your life coming back from the seeming dead was anything for a person to be utterly confused over. He should have been happy - he was happy - but suddenly, all of his desires and frustrations were thrown into stark relief once more. It hurt.
"I'm fine."
no subject
Rich's voice was as gentle as he could make it. He was worried, but he probably didn't have the right to push. Maybe apologize, or at least explain.
... and yet all the words felt wrong. One of us alive here was better than both of us stuck there could do, but it wouldn't. Your life matters more than my death just didn't work, when he could practically feel misery roiling off Peter.
Instead, he just bowed his head. "You seem less fine than I was after ripping Annihilus's guts through his mouth. And that's okay. Not wanting to talk to me is... I guess okay. I just had to... see you."
The lump in his throat stopped any further actual words. He was trying not to cry, he really was, but, for the first time since he fully came to, for the first time from being busy and rebuilding and fixing things that could be fixed, he could feel the enormity of what had happened. The enormity of hurt - to others, more than to himself - and and it felt horrible. He had done it to them. To Peter. He had no right to cry or be comforted.
no subject
"It's kind of scary, seeing a scar turn back into a normal mark, kid. It's kind of like tearing a wound open again." And that was exactly what it was - the scar had torn itself open, only to quickly heal itself in black. It hurt. Not as much seeing Rich in pain hurt, though.
"I'll be fine."
no subject
It was a wound all the same.
"What can I do?"
It came out raw, raspy, but he owed it, to both of them. Because Peter gave him honesty. I'll be fine was better, infinitely more likely, than I'm fine. Sometimes, others could help bring that 'fine' about.
Other times, not even the nearest and dearest people couldn't.
If Peter knew which one it was, Rich would do that. If not...
He'd come up with something.
no subject
"Like I said, I'll be fine and we've still got to get you back to Earth. People're gonna be missing you."
no subject
But Peter Quill was also the person who knew best just how ofter Rich accepted that statement. Never, in particular. Rich's jaw set, and his eyes grew harder, from helpless and lost to determined. Whatever damage he had done, he'd find a way beyond it. He had to, for both of them.
"I was there. My brother has learned to throw a good punch." Not that he hadn't earned it. "Though that's still got people left, if you're stir-crazy or something. An old Nova ship with the Worldmind and an older Nova and maybe a few trainees."
If. Or when. Whichever was more applicable.