( it's an interesting little thing. peter has thought, sometimes, when the wound feels a little less deep and his heart a little less broken, about all the things he might venture to say to juno, if they ever met again. mostly childish daydreams -- fantasies, even, because there really has been no intention to ever reunite with him. that ship left the harbor so to speak, carrying one person where two tickets were bought. a honeymoon peter went on by himself -- no, he will never see juno again. that's just how the story was meant to play out.
even he can acknowledge the superficial dramatics in that. he's dreamed, thought about seeing juno again and he's -- rarely angry. he wants to cry, wants to make him pity him. he wants to crack open every one of his ribs and reveal more secrets, show more of himself to juno, convince him. manipulate him, have him. trick him.
the point is that, even if he's thought about it a few dozen times, with the moment finally here, his brain just. shuts down. he doesn't need to turn around to know that it's juno steel, private investigator, mother protector of mars. he just knows, buying off the way his spine tingles in anxiety, or the sound of his voice that haunts peter like a ghost. in his dreams and not, every waking hour of every waking day.
he's right there. peter doesn't turn to meet him.
instead, he stands up straighter, pulling his hands away. they fall uselessly at his sides, and he spares a few fleeting moments to wipe the shock off his face, the pain and the misery, the look of anguish that crosses the whites of his eyes. )
No.
( is what he says, eventually. the pointed click of a heel strikes the ground as peter inevitably turns, halfway, to meet him.
-- but. the cool consideration of his face quickly wipes into worry, and his brows knit, taking half a step forward before remembering his place, stopping in his tracks. )
Juno, you're ... ( his lips twitch. ) You're covered in blood.
no subject
even he can acknowledge the superficial dramatics in that. he's dreamed, thought about seeing juno again and he's -- rarely angry. he wants to cry, wants to make him pity him. he wants to crack open every one of his ribs and reveal more secrets, show more of himself to juno, convince him. manipulate him, have him. trick him.
the point is that, even if he's thought about it a few dozen times, with the moment finally here, his brain just. shuts down. he doesn't need to turn around to know that it's juno steel, private investigator, mother protector of mars. he just knows, buying off the way his spine tingles in anxiety, or the sound of his voice that haunts peter like a ghost. in his dreams and not, every waking hour of every waking day.
he's right there. peter doesn't turn to meet him.
instead, he stands up straighter, pulling his hands away. they fall uselessly at his sides, and he spares a few fleeting moments to wipe the shock off his face, the pain and the misery, the look of anguish that crosses the whites of his eyes. )
No.
( is what he says, eventually. the pointed click of a heel strikes the ground as peter inevitably turns, halfway, to meet him.
-- but. the cool consideration of his face quickly wipes into worry, and his brows knit, taking half a step forward before remembering his place, stopping in his tracks. )
Juno, you're ... ( his lips twitch. ) You're covered in blood.