but it's warm and it smells like peter, suffuses his clothes with his scent, surrounds him in something he was fairly sure he'd never come across ever again in his wildest nightmares. he looks over at the console as peter speaks, sees what he'd been doing--opening up the roster, scrolling through. the theia helps just a little, sharpening juno's vision enough that he can see the faint outline of peter nureyev's name, a name that shouldn't be anywhere save a criminal registry somewhere on the outer rim. it should be off in the furthest reaches of space, terrorizing a floating city in the sky with the threat of plummeting to the ground. it shouldn't be here. shouldn't be for anyone's eyes to see. ]
Shit, Nureyev... [ he croaks, the name almost foreign on his tongue, bitter like a poison he drinks down. that's a problem, a problem peter's probably been able to do away with before. ] If you wanna get back to it... don't let me stop you.
[ the little stab of anger grows hot in his gut. peter's name, more precious than any goddamn thing in space, here on a registry. his eyes flick from the console that's just a worthless bunch of beeping lights to him right now (the theia is exhausted now, the headache it brings on is something dull and thrumming over and over again) and then to peter, sitting so close. the warmth of his hands on his thighs for a second feels tattooed there.
peter. peter nureyev sitting beside him, looking put together for everyone else. but juno can see the hairline fracture, thin and apoxied over again and again from close calls and near misses that he imagines come with anyone's youthful days of their career. peter's an expert now (it's always the thieves with years under their belts that are the most dangerous) and to have his name there on display for anyone to walk through and see if they dug around enough.
would it mean anything to anyone here?
there's no point in taking that chance. in breaking a sacred rule peter's held up since he left brahma (he knows too much, juno knows too damn much and it hurts.)
he reaches up a hand and starts to unbutton the front of his shirt from beneath peter's jacket. he doesn't use the expensive material to wipe himself down, rather, almost to keep up some modicum of modesty that doesn't matter in a place like this where it's the two of them and their daemons mingling with one another. looking at the pair of birds (god this place is weird) makes juno sink further down into peter's jacket as dahliad is settling close by to slowly dip down and start to preen the magpie's dark feathers with her beak. juno turns away and uses the fabric of his button down to slowly wipe away at the blood, shoulders peeking up bare from the jacket. he'll find something to replace his shirt with eventually.
god.
the last thing he needs is to muck up anything else in peter's life. ] I can watch the door if you want to keep trying.
no subject
way too nice.
but it's warm and it smells like peter, suffuses his clothes with his scent, surrounds him in something he was fairly sure he'd never come across ever again in his wildest nightmares. he looks over at the console as peter speaks, sees what he'd been doing--opening up the roster, scrolling through. the theia helps just a little, sharpening juno's vision enough that he can see the faint outline of peter nureyev's name, a name that shouldn't be anywhere save a criminal registry somewhere on the outer rim. it should be off in the furthest reaches of space, terrorizing a floating city in the sky with the threat of plummeting to the ground. it shouldn't be here. shouldn't be for anyone's eyes to see. ]
Shit, Nureyev... [ he croaks, the name almost foreign on his tongue, bitter like a poison he drinks down. that's a problem, a problem peter's probably been able to do away with before. ] If you wanna get back to it... don't let me stop you.
[ the little stab of anger grows hot in his gut. peter's name, more precious than any goddamn thing in space, here on a registry. his eyes flick from the console that's just a worthless bunch of beeping lights to him right now (the theia is exhausted now, the headache it brings on is something dull and thrumming over and over again) and then to peter, sitting so close. the warmth of his hands on his thighs for a second feels tattooed there.
peter. peter nureyev sitting beside him, looking put together for everyone else. but juno can see the hairline fracture, thin and apoxied over again and again from close calls and near misses that he imagines come with anyone's youthful days of their career. peter's an expert now (it's always the thieves with years under their belts that are the most dangerous) and to have his name there on display for anyone to walk through and see if they dug around enough.
would it mean anything to anyone here?
there's no point in taking that chance. in breaking a sacred rule peter's held up since he left brahma (he knows too much, juno knows too damn much and it hurts.)
he reaches up a hand and starts to unbutton the front of his shirt from beneath peter's jacket. he doesn't use the expensive material to wipe himself down, rather, almost to keep up some modicum of modesty that doesn't matter in a place like this where it's the two of them and their daemons mingling with one another. looking at the pair of birds (god this place is weird) makes juno sink further down into peter's jacket as dahliad is settling close by to slowly dip down and start to preen the magpie's dark feathers with her beak. juno turns away and uses the fabric of his button down to slowly wipe away at the blood, shoulders peeking up bare from the jacket. he'll find something to replace his shirt with eventually.
god.
the last thing he needs is to muck up anything else in peter's life. ] I can watch the door if you want to keep trying.