long overdue

[watchesthewatchers]

It's Ricki's little ramshackle apartment, but there Peter is one morning, perched on the loveseat, reading a file, waiting for Bruce Wayne to arrive.

He has a gun, but tucked out of sight, not on his person. Just in case.

Comments

[watchesthewatchers]

He sneers, and pulls out his phone. Dials.

"Ricki?"

Quiet, as the line picks up.

[lasiurus]

Bruce waits, hating Peter and his manipulations. Just standing here is an exercise of will.

[watchesthewatchers]

Peter mostly just listens, clutching the phone in his good hand, smiling helplessly a few seconds in.

"Be careful. I swear, I'll go grey over you."

At length, he adds;

"I know. I will." And then. "You too. I'll send him back to you now, yes? Take care."

He hangs up, quickly after that.

[lasiurus]

"Tony's looking for you."

Tony, with his shiny, expensive cars and fame, in Gotham. Looking for someone in the bad neighborhoods. It's a recipe for disaster.

[watchesthewatchers]

"I can't right now. Tell him I'm at the hospital and I'll find him at his hotel."

He instructs him, scooping up the gun. He assembles it, one handed, and looks up at him.

"Ricki will be tempted to drink. But if he makes it two weeks without, he'll be fine."

[lasiurus]

"If he stays overnight he won't be at a hotel, he'll be staying at my house. Just go find him and get out, or convince him to leave without you."

That isn't something Bruce can do, not with Tony being so worried over Peter. And once he hears what happened, Bruce doubts Tony will listen to him about anything ever again.

[watchesthewatchers]

He slips the gun away, stands up, and looks him over again.

"Get Ricki to keep his mouth shut, and Tony and Bruce will hear I skidded on black ice. They have a lot of respect for you, I'm not interested in hurting them with this."

Leaning back against the brick.

[lasiurus]

"In hurting them with the way you chose to break your own wrist?"

He gives him a look of such disgust.

"You manipulative psychopath. Tell them whatever you want."

[watchesthewatchers]

"Us arguing, idiot."

Teeth baring.

"But go on. Enjoy your victimization complex to the fullest. But go through Bruce to talk to Tony if you're going to accuse him of anything. I trust his judgement, but you've hurt enough of the people I love. Now." The gun cocks. "Get the fuck away from me."

[lasiurus]

"You have your gun, now get out of my city."

He's not going to turn his back on him, that's for damn sure.

There are police sirens heading close.

[watchesthewatchers]

Peter rolls his eyes, and pulls the trigger. The bullet ricochets off the wall to his left, the pitch of the sirens change.

"My ride's on its' way. Do you want to be here when they arrive?"

[lasiurus]

He doesn't flinch. But once Peter starts talking, he does lunge forward, clearing the line of fire and jamming his finger behind the hammer so it can't go off again. He rips the gun back smoothly, though it'll dislocate Peter's trigger finger, and steps back again.

"Changed my mind. You could hurt someone with this."

There's a side door to a bad restaurant, which he opens and slips into. He, more than Peter, needs to be gone when people come to check out why there was a gunshot.

[watchesthewatchers]

Peter vanishes, simply and elegantly, down the back alley and then off a side street and onto the main drag, disguised beautifully in his impeccable clothing, looking perfectly at ease walking along, looking through shop windows.

He hails a cab with his good arm, leisurely, after the sirens have stopped, and takes it to the nearest hotel.

He slips in, and gets a room on a card Tony will be able to trace.

[profiteering]

Tony finds him that night, looking frantic and moody. He knocks on the door, pauses a second, and knocks again.

[watchesthewatchers]

Peter answers, tear stained and burnt out, looking just flat. Empty.

"It's over."

[profiteering]

Tony gathers him immediately, hands on his cheeks, kissing him and pushing him back into the room. When the door is shut he launches into the questions.

"What's wrong?"

[watchesthewatchers]

Peter sucks in a deep breath, looks at him, and makes a decision;

"I was visiting Ricki when Bruce came in. We started talking, and it escalated. I said something awful to him, we tussled, my wrist snapped in the fall. Ricki came home, I left. Bruce followed me, we exchanged heated words, I won't be seeing Ricki again. I'm not a very good person, sometimes, Tony, but I do love you, and this time, I was trying."

[profiteering]

Tony exhales hard, and pulls Peter to him--then remembers that bit about his wrist snapping and he hurriedly looks down to check it.

"You can see him. Okay? I'll figure this out. We'll get Bruce to mediate. Did you fight with Ricki? Where is he at?"

[watchesthewatchers]

It's splinted up. Peter starts trembling under his touch, just giving in now that he's here.

"He's with Wayne, I think. We said goodbye."

[profiteering]

"Look...believe it or not this is not the worst fight that's happened in my inner sanctum."

He sighs and kisses Peter's temple.

"We'll work it out. But either you let me take you to a hospital for this, or...I kick and scream and drug you and take you to a doctor anyway. Bruce could probably fix it, too, but he'll probably just say 'go to the ER'. You can do it for me--I like your wrist being flexible."

Miming a handjob for a second, trying desperately to make Peter smile.

[watchesthewatchers]

"Is there someone we can see in New York?"

Peter asks, hopefully, sinking down onto the foot of the bed. The joke doesn't even get a flicker of a smile, unfortunately.

[profiteering]

"Of course. Want to go now?"

First he'll care for Peter. Then, he'll probably rant to Banner. And then he'll try to talk to Ricki without picking a fight with Wayne.

[watchesthewatchers]

"Please."

He leans heavily into him, breath going out of him in a rush.

"Get me out of here."

[profiteering]

"Okay. Come on, your chariot's downstairs."

He hovers with Peter as if afraid he might collapse.

[watchesthewatchers]

He pulls himself upright, and squares his shoulders off before they leave the room, moving cool and casual and perfect.

Anyone watching would never know he'd batted an eyelash, just in case.