thisavrou_log | "Get outta here if you don't know"

He keeps staring at Sans a moment, trying to get a read on what the skeleton is thinking. But Peter can't figure out Sans on the best of days, let alone while he's so keyed up. After a few seconds he nods, face uncertain, and steps back. In a flash, the whirlwind is starting around the room as he runs the perimeter. Once he gets started, Peter has a hard time stopping. The past few days in the small space of the cell had done little to get out the energy built up after days confined to a bed. This room was still a limited area, he'd give a kidney for a real planet to run, but it helps ease some of the tension and makes Peter feel a little more like he can breath.

He takes longer than he meant to, letting his already distorted sense of time slip away from him with the prospect of letting loose, but Peter's glad for it. The run helped give him space to think about things beyond just what insult he was going to hurl at his neighbor next. By the time he comes to a stop again in front of Sans, after what felt like him to hours but couldn't have been nearly so long, Peter actually looks markedly more calm than he did in the cell.

"I know this had to be about more than just letting me free for a run," Peter starts, lowering himself to sit across from Sans. "But thanks for that."

"Don't mention it. I figured you were going a little stir crazy."

Sans closes his book, setting it aside and nodding for Peter to join him. "C'mon, take a seat. I'm getting tired just looking at you."

"A little," he echos, settling on the floor. He pulls his legs under him, then readjusts to a sprawl before finally taking a cross-legged stance. His impatience, and nervousness, is showing in his inability to stay still. "Sans? Like I said, this had to be about more than letting me have a run. I know you've got to have an opinion on all this."

"Yeah, I do."

The pause that comes after that statement borders on infuriating. Sans stretches, each vertebrae cracking one after the other until he resettles at Peter's side. It could be said, in some small way, that this is Sans' own way of punishing Peter for his mistakes. Slow and steady frustrates the teen.

But he can't hold out forever. Sighing, Sans' voice is firm but kind.

"You shouldn't have done that. With the net. It was a bad idea."

"Just with the net?" The question comes quick on the heels of when Sans finally speaks. Peter isn't looking at Sans, focusing a guilty stare on the far wall. There's disbelief in his voice. There were a lot of things about that night he should have done differently, but the net wasn't the one that stood out in his mind. Alice's plans were still brilliant in Peter's eyes, still could have worked for anyone else. He's the one who made a mess of it. "What? Think I should have used a different trap? That's not where I screwed up, Sans."

He sighs, deflates. "And I do know that I screwed up."

Arguing isn't on the agenda, and Sans' voice remains placid -- even friendly. And there's no reason why it shouldn't remain that way. He likes Peter, even loves Peter in his own way. Which is the one reason he doesn't let it go. Why he's here at all, truly.

"Agree to disagree. On the first point, not the second. We're both in agreement that this was a bungle, to say the least." Sans picks at his fingers, thoughtful. "Can you tell me why you wanted to set a trap in the first place? Gimme your pitch."

He scrubs his hands over his face, readjusting his stance in an effort to buy time. It's not like he hasn't told the story a few times already, it seems like all of his friends had popped by demanding answers. But only a few times had it felt awkward, showing Wanda, talking to Bruce. This was another one of those times when it felt like there was something more riding on it.

"It was Wanda. For her, to protect her. He threatened her so I had to get rid of him before she got hurt." He's still not looking at Sans. It's not the whole story, not the entire truth, but every word rings with conviction. It's what he believes. "She's my sister Sans, my twin. I couldn't just stand around and let something happen to her."

"Can't argue with that." Sans, not many months ago, was wearing the very shoes Peter wore now. Sibling in trouble, fear gripping his chest, willing to do anything and everything he could to make sure nothing bad ever happened to them.

Of course, Chara came back and Papyrus wound up gutted in an entirely different way. And now Rinzler was battered but alive and pissed, while J was...

"When I had my run-in with the law, you came to me and told me you thought I was right to do what I did. I told you I disagreed. Remember that?" Sans takes a breath, ribs rattling slightly from the effort. "You still think I'm full of shit?"

Edited 2016-04-28 06:23 (UTC)

He can remember walking into the holding area, having heard what Sans had done. Knowing why he'd done it and having that feeling of empathy swell in his chest. That feeling that some cosmic justice had been served and morals shifting into place. It's why he'd went there that day, sat across from someone accused of child murder and offered his understanding. Peter had felt like, at the time, he was looking at someone who wasn't so different. Who understood the order of the world. It cemented that he wanted to get to know the skeleton.

Here they were now. He'd gotten a little of that wish, had a chance to befriend and grow something about the man sitting next to him. And Peter still felt the same way he did hearing about the trial those months ago.

"Sans." Peter turns to look at him, lips tugging into a confused smile. "You did it for family. I haven't changed my mind. You did the right thing. "

For a moment, Peter reminds Sans so much of Papyrus it's dizzying. The assurance in what he believes is right, the smiling confidence, the determination to protect his family. Young and with great faith placed in what he believes is right.

A kid who was kicked around all his life, isolated, made to feel small while refusing to give in. They were qualities Sans valued above all else. They were strong and unattainable and cool in a way Sans had long since given up for himself. He could never hope to reach such heights. The closest he got was being near people like his brother, like Peter, leaching off their goodness like a particularly appreciative parasite.

And now look. He can't claim responsibility, no, but he was another justification. Another person Peter could hold up as someone who knew when to do the right thing.

"That same family I did it for had to watch me die a week later." Sans speaks up, finally, unable to look at Peter's misguided expression much longer. "One of the people you wanted to protect is dead. I met with your sister while you were in the sickbay, n' she was terrified about how this is all going to escalate. Terrified for you.

"It's called karma, kid, and thinking you're above it is one hell of a way to get wrecked."

Edited 2016-04-28 07:00 (UTC)

His smile wavers, something inside trying to crack. Of course he remembers what happened to Sans, but there's some part of him that wants to fire back that the situation wasn't the same. Or at least, wasn't a fear of his. Peter would rather die than let Wanda fall on the chopping block. Or River, or Billy, or any of the people he'd grown so fond of in the short time he's been here. And he might have argued his point, if Sans hadn't mentioned J.

It's a kick in the stomach to have her brought up, by Sans of all people. He's dimly aware that there must have been some kind of relationship between them; J had told Peter who she lived with and he couldn't see her putting up with a roommate she didn't like. But it's more than knowing they were friends. Everyone's danced around it, for the most part. Only mentioning J in an offering of sympathy and letting the issue go. Even Wanda had left it alone after going inside his head, maybe sensing that he just couldn't handle that conversation at the time. It's almost sickening to have it laid out so plainly, a gentle reminder of who was at fault.

Mentioning Wanda and the one horrible way he'd managed to fail her in repayment for all her kindness is just the icing on the cake.

"It's not like that." He's defensive, but not out of anger. It's the same way a child gets defensive when they're scared, too emotionally wrung out to stay calm. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen like this. I didn't mean for her t- I know it's my fault, I know where I went wrong. I'm not trying to be above anything!"

Every muscle is twitching, the desire to stand and pace hard to control. He doesn't bother to stop his hands, throwing them into agitated gestures with an intensity that had them vibrating. "All this happened because I didn't kill him when I had the chance. I know that, I know what that caused! This is all because I let that chance go, you don't have to explain karma to me."

Edited 2016-04-28 07:37 (UTC)

That's trouble in talking to a kid ten thousand times faster than you. Once they get away from the point, it's real hard to catch them.

As Peter talks, the moment his voice starts hitting that anxious register, Sans begins trying to draw him back. Quiet kids give way to insistent Peters, and before too long Sans is turned bodily towards Peter, grin turned grimace.

"It's not about dying or killing. I know you don't fear death, 'cuz you're a kid and you don't think it matters, that's fine. I'm a grown ass man and it doesn't matter much to me either, but you're nuts if you don't think it matters to the people that love you."

Sans' voice is raised only enough to speak over Peter, otherwise his usual cadence remains unchanged.

"I dunno what worked for you before. But you're not alone here. And the people you want dead? They aren't gonns stay gone. So you kill Rinzler, he comes back in three days, pissed as hell. Are you just going to keep killing him forever? Is that the plan? Kill them over and over until they figure out all your tells, learn exactly how to beat you, and use that knowledge to destroy everything you care about?"

Which of them is Sans talking about at this point? It's not too clear.

"So Rinzler made a threat. You go to Wanda, you go to me, you go to anyone. We could've helped you."

Edited 2016-04-28 08:22 (UTC)

That rant is too specific to be applicable to Peter's situation, and if he was more stable he'd realize that. He'd take a beat, think it out. Ask Sans if he wanted to talk about it. Be a better friend.

But he's not stable and this conversation is already spiraling beyond his scope of control.

"And what then? He would have killed one of you? Someone else gets put in the hold instead of me?" And it's hardly fair to argue that, isn't it? Not when Alice is sitting there for helping him. "He was pissed at me! I started this and no one else was supposed to be involved. No one else was supposed to get hurt. I was trying to keep anyone else from getting hurt."

But someone else did get hurt, and it's far too hard to think about it.

"I didn't want help, I didn't even want Alice involved. I'm the older bother, I'm supposed to be able to take care of this shit myself Sans. It's my fault he even threatened Wanda in the first place, I was the dumbass talking about her on these stupid watches and tipped him off about who she was. How was I supposed to tell my sister, who already lost one brother, that I put her life in danger and then tell her to fix it? How was I supposed to ask you that? How am I supposed to ask someone else to clean up my mistakes?"

There's something edging on hysteria in his voice. Because deep down, some part of him knows Sans is right. He knows Wanda was right to tell him off about not trusting in her. But he's the older brother, he was the only man in the house for most of his life. He's never known asking someone else to help when it was always his job to look after the rest. The truth is, it never so much as crossed his mind to get help.

He just doesn't know how to stop doing it alone.

"I thought he might stay dead. We'd get lucky and it'd solve everything. I had to try something!"

It's Sans' cue to get up, pacing. Normally he wouldn't volunteer for any activity he didn't strictly have to engage in, but for once the heat in his bones is enough that he actively feels the need to shake it out.

Powerlessness, it's something he knows well. It's something he's taken a sick sort of comfort in more often than not -- knowing that no matter what you do, the outcome will eventually, inevitably reach zero again. You could slap the longest, most complicated equation their is next to times zero, and the outcome will always be the same.

That's what his life has been up to now. One big times zero next to every experience he's had, every piece of progress he's made, every relationship he fostered.

Having that assurance gone, knowing that what he says to Peter now will persist and affect him going forward... it's a new sort of powerless, really. One he has no idea how to deal with.

"There's more to being an older brother than protecting everyone." He finally decides, not quite catching Peter's eye. "You've gotta let 'em fail, you've gotta let 'em scrape their kneecaps once in a while, and you gotta trust them to carry you sometimes. 'Cuz if you're anything like me, they do that all the time pretty much without even trying. So just--"

Sans stops, pinching between his eye sockets. The slight irritation is a nice distraction from the buzzing in his skull.

"You're not just a brother, kid, you're part of a family. You don't keep family out of the loop."

He watches Sans walk, that constant burning sensation in his muscles that tell him to move worsening. But he stays seated, pinned by emotion and the nagging worry that he was setting another relationship on fire.

So he sits, never still while Sans gathers his thoughts and sits while he unloads them onto Peter.

No. It's the first think on his mind and it's nearly the first thing out of his mouth. He's barely able to bite down the urge to shout it, that damning thing called respect is all that keeps him quiet. He's the older brother and that's all it means. He has to look out for them, he has to keep them from his problems. Because if he doesn't, than what's the point to him? It's his one good contribution to the world, looking out for his siblings. It's the only thing he's never felt he screwed up.

Until now.

Sans is rubbing salt in the wound, to bring up how he's kept his sister in the dark. That first conversation with Wanda once she'd found out had felt like getting stabbed all over again. Not in how she yelled or threw his lack of trust in his face. She wouldn't. It was the kindness in how she treated him and the bone deep disappointment in her eyes. Even as messed up as he let himself get back home, with all the stealing and cop visits and the DNA, he'd never seen that from his sisters before.

"Look, Wanda already talked me down about not telling her. I know I got to stop pretending that she, that any of them need me to take care of them like that." Because as much as he wants to be, he's not their older brother. He's not Pietro, he's not older and wiser and that hero they knew. He's out of sync with them, and it's something Peter's only noticing now. This family doesn't need him in the way they did at home.

"But I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to just let it go and let them just-" He makes some vague hand gestures, sighs and drops his face into his hands. The excitement is wearing down, the fight draining out of him. It leaves Peter just feeling tired. "Maybe I just don't know what I'm doing."

Still standing, Sans is struck first by how small Peter looks. It's a rare sensation, finding someone else smaller than him -- a position reserved for little children and littler monsters, two kinds of people in short supply on the Moira.

But still. Peter looked small.

If Sans had a gut, it might be twisting right about now.

"Kid..." He begins, heaving a breath of his own before kneeling down in front of him. "You made a mistake. It happens. Do you wanna know how many ways I fucked up looking after my family?" If Peter was going to answer, Sans makes sure to beat him to it. "Well, it's a lot. Lot more than you, that's for sure. All thing's considered this screw up is, y'know... fixable."

A big deal, yes, but Sans knows when a battle's revved to go into extra innings and when you need to call it early. There will be time for this talk again, when cooler heads might prevail.

"You're young. That's not a crime."

He's not crying, that's not why he's refusing to look at Sans. He's too old for there to be tears over his mistakes. He's nearly a damn adult, not some child who broke the window. He's mature and capable of dealing with his emotions like a man's supposed to.

It's just that he's not been talked to like this in a very long time. Not since he was little, when his powers first started and the problems first started. Back when his mother would find him with bruised knees and a wet face and remind him broken glass could be put back together. He'd do better next time. It wasn't the end of the world.

He's not crying; his chest just hurts because maybe he's not fully healed yet and his eyes just burn because he won't stop rubbing at them. He's not looking at Sans, because he just doesn't want to. That's it.

"You think so?" It comes out small and childish and tight with too much emotion. He sort of wants to punch himself for it, smooth move Maximoff. Sans doesn't need to repeat himself and Peter needs to get up, face everything that's being said here. If he's going to be an adult, then he actually needs to be one.

But maybe there's a part of him that's still that ten year old, needing to be reminded again that it wasn't the end of the world.

No tears. And if there are, Sans staunchly refuses to notice them, eyelights fixed instead on Peter's own.

"J's gonna come back." Sans reminds him, voice unwavering on that point. He refuses to entertain the thought that she wouldn't. "Your sister's already forgiven you ten times over. Rinzler is... we'll deal with him. There's gonna be a way to make this stop."

If has to put the scare into the program himself, welp, them's the breaks. He slaps Peter quickly on the knee, rising to his feet.

"C'mon, kid. We gotta get you back before anyone figures out you're missing."

There's a part of him that's been terrified that she won't, mind stuck on the worst case scenario. Sans's simple affirmation shouldn't make him feel better, and that feeling of reassurance probably won't last long once he's left alone in the cell to wait, wait and wait, but for the moment it works. It's like running cold water over a burn or scratching at a mosquito bite; a temporary relief but relief all the same.

It's good enough to carry in the moment.

He scrubs at his face a few times, taking a deep breath before taking his hands away and standing up. His eyes are red rimmed and glossy, but he doesn't look like he's about to burst into tears anymore. He gives Sans a shaky nod and a shakier smile.

"Yeah. Can't have you getting into any trouble over me."

"Me? I never get into trouble." He offers a hand to Peter, hoisting the kid up. The gesture is all it takes, and by the time Peter is standing the world has once again melted away -- replaced with brief blackness before fresh surroundings filter in.

Bars are between them again, Sans' skeletal hand still holding fast to Peter's through the thin gaps. He withdraws it slowly, forearm making it's way through without so much as snagging on the bars. An advantage of being all bones.

"I should go." He decides, not quite making moves to leave just yet. There's a beat before he continues, eye sockets pressed with rare and highly fleeting earnestness before he erases it all with a wink.

"Be good."

And in that moment, he's gone.

"Get outta here if you don't know"

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