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

[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.

[profiteering]

He takes him to a SHIELD doctor, someone who doesn't ask questions. No one asks Tony anything anymore.

Then he takes him home.

[watchesthewatchers]

Peter lets Tony drive, and passes out against the car window, cheek coming in beautiful shades of violet, pressed against the cool glass to hide it, to soothe it a little.

[profiteering]

"Jarvis, tell Bruce to get us some ice."

Tony says when they pull into the garage. He brushes his fingers against Peter's good cheek to wake him.

[watchesthewatchers]

Peter looks up at him, muzzily.

"Tony?"

Pleased to see him, at least.

"We're out of the city?"

[profiteering]

"In a different city. We're home."

He kisses his cheek.

"Let's go get you some ice and a drink. You can sleep in my bed tonight."

[watchesthewatchers]

"Bring Bruce?"

He asks, quietly.

"I'd like very much to feel the both of you on either side of me, just now."

[profiteering]

"I will. Come upstairs with me, let's talk to him."

He climbs out, and moves around to be able to help him up.