wearing a warning sign;

[hastening]

 

𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕥/𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕠

 

ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ

ᴏᴡɴ ᴍᴇ, I'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏʟᴇ

ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ

ᴍʏ ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴛᴏ sɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ sɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪs sᴏɴɢ

ɪғ sʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅs ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟʏʀɪᴄs

sʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇɴ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ

Comments

starting this off with a text aka these foolish boys

[pendejadas]

[ sometime after x. ]

Did you get my gift?

{ his i can't be there, but you'll surely taste me sort of drink he made earlier in the day. it didn't take much to convince the bartender at the club. they're an alumni. it's suspended on a time loop until pietro were to place the rim of the glass upon his plush lips. a rather sweet mixture, appeasing what he knows pietro likes. ( yes, this is the education brakebills sought for him; to use his magic for the lewd and keeping an unfairly gorgeous silver-haired boy interested. ) there's a note attached, one scribbled with eliot's mostly readable handwriting. }

𝙎𝙚𝙭 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙬𝙖𝙮;
𝙋𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝, 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙨, 𝙫𝙤𝙙𝙠𝙖, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙆𝙚𝙩𝙯𝙚𝙡.
— 𝙀𝙡

[hastening]

i got the drink yes
i did not get the hand in my jeans
very bad customer service yes?

[ except that he definitely enjoys the drink and is perched at the bar itself sipping it, happy to be on his phone and ignoring the batting eyes of any possible suitors. ]

i guess i will have to use my own

[pendejadas]

i wrote the word jeans for you when i wouldn’t be caught in them.

{ and with one record text, pietro has reduced eliot to the no caps zone. let it be known he’s not doing his proper duty and might start a fillorian war. }

preferably why i always want to rip them off you. the only saving grace is that they do make your peach look appetizing.

[hastening]

it is a good peach
ripe for the picking
but someone else will have to tell you how it is no?
since you are not here to taste it

[pendejadas]

i don’t know about you, but i like to lick open a peach and make sure to feel its true ripeness. take my time to really savor.
but you can also find quick too.
go on.
i’m sure you’ll find someone suitable. i want only you to come to me and tell me if it compares.

for the best bambi;

[zalost]

pietro is late for dinner
but he is always late for dinner now that he has his dessert first
that is what he tells me
we were supposed to watch these funny movies
so i ordered sushi
if you are bored we can both make him jealous
he does not like missing out on the fun
if you are free

[ambiciosa]

little bruja, you should see them now. making out on the couch like wanton whores.
i could use a away from testosterone night.
when el gets like this he doesn't cook and a bitch has to eat.
i’ll help you make pietro’s pretty ass jealous as a bonus, no extra charge but your company.

[zalost]

then come eat sushi
i even found a bottle of good vodka
but i’m glad pietro is having fun
he does not do things for himself
and he forgot all about our movie night
but i will forgive him this once if he is happy

he’s annoying to watch movies with anyway
talks the whole time
sestra this and sestra that
so i am glad you’re coming and not him

[ambiciosa]

vodka. after my heart.
i told pietro on the way out.
he also crinkles his nose when he pouts just like you.
yours is cuter.
the boys are pathetic today.
i'll be there in twenty minutes.

i have a gift for you.

{ because of course margo has to combat any detection of sincerity with a splash of chemical x in her spice and occasional nice. she nearly pushes pietro off of eliot on her way out. she's just more grumpy when others don't pay attention to her. they laugh while she flips them off and makes towards the necessary spot where she'd have to sigil her way with a close enough checkpoint.

makes it easier when it's all contained in new york. once she's at wanda's door, she knocks since she does have the capacity to be polite. margo isn't in the mood to stare down any stark tech at the moment. }

[zalost]

they are always pathetic
but it is why we love them
i will see you soon

[ the concept of having friends feels so foreign to her still - she and pietro have spent so long having no one but each other, that the idea of inviting someone to visit still feels like the actions of another person. but the knock comes and she answers the door, a little doe eyed still. ]

Mr. Stark will be so upset at you and Eliot breaking the rules. His computers can't detect magic. [ there's mischief there as she opens the door to invite her in, a girlish excitement teeming under the surface. ] He is mad at Pietro for running around like he does.

[hastening]

[ a simple invite is all it took to drag pietro to a party at brakebills. it's the first time he's come in through what he thinks are the front doors, instead of some whimsical portal that so oft leaves he and eliot sprawling on the royal blue of his bed sheets. a passing comment about a party, free drinks, and pretty faces and pietro knew he had to come.

and he's been mingling for the better part of an hour now after some pretty faced brunette insisted he speak with her now and even pietro can see the woman has a way of commanding anyone's attention. she'd even had his, which is impressive considering the way eliot's fingers had been tickling at the waistband of his jeans. so he's taken to roaming, finding there's no lack of conversation, the magicians of all types intrigued and interested and predatory in a way pietro can feel.

but drinks appear, brought to him by several different people, all fruity and brightly colored which notes a theme. a theme too reminiscent of a night spent sitting at the bar waiting for a curly haired man, only to receive a rain check in the form of alcohol. it had always been tailored to him, which pietro found charming, but couldn't place why. but it is of no consequence now - it makes his cheeks burn a little warm after the third cocktail, the fourth making him take it slow.

they were only meant to be a one night stand. a fun party favor. and yet here he is, nearly a month later at the very house he's sure everyone's heard him come in.

now that's a thought.

the drink that comes next interrupts him and a pretty, blond-haired man with fair eyes, who leans a little too close and speaks against his ear. it's exciting, especially as he feels the zing of magic along his spine. but before the fair haired man can make any move, another drink arrives, and pietro all but barks out a laugh as he takes it. it's citrus - nectarine sweet - and the scent alone makes him salivate, makes his eyes roam.

these drinks? they're not coming from just anyone. and even as the blond boy leans to kiss pietro's neck, his head turns and somehow that icy gaze falls on eliot, perched on an ornate couch far across the room. pietro haphazardly pushes the pretty boy away. ]

Ah, sorry, yes? I think I must go.

[ he grins, a flash of teeth, and starts weaving through the room only to come up behind eliot on the couch and dangle the drink in front of his nose. ]

Devět. Do you know what this means, little petal?

[ ... Nine drinks so far. ]

[pendejadas]

{ it was margo's idea. she insisted that eliot shouldn't be keeping secrets and it's unfair that he's hiding away his latest fixation. it's probably the longest fling eliot has ever had. can he call it a fling? all he knows is whatever it is, he hasn't felt truly exhilarating in a long time. he isn't about to stop. his addictive habits catch up with him. so he invited pietro to their next party.

margo had immediately taken pietro away and called him yummy. it put him at ease to see them get along, even their flirting. it's not as if he was hiding pietro. they could probably hear them when eliot conveniently forgot to put up the wards in his room. he's been better about it. now he's realizing why. ( aside from penny giving him a mean look in his words: we get it. your boyfriend has impressive stamina. now shut up. he didn't correct penny. ) pietro is a walking temptation and his charm is deadly. some of them have heard of the avengers, others were just taking in the goods.

most magicians are not shy about intentions. the drinks started when eliot caught sight of someone squeezing pietro's bicep. he's always been one to mix when he's in any range of emotion. he has an inkling to the one that is loud when he stares at the hand on pietro's shoulder with a slight resemblance of a pout. the nerves are what catches him by surprise, considering he rarely ever gets them when he's in his element.

eventually, he does relax on the velvet couch, attempting not to sneak more glances at pietro after making too many drinks for one individual, no matter how excellent pietro's metabolism might be. there's one hand, and then another, and then... he can't look. he's still not sure why. he's been to ibiza. shit, ibiza is coming up. eliot can't think about it or if he's going this time. hell, he's supposed to also make decisions in fillory. between his wandering thoughts, someone he had entertained once before pietro, comes around and tries leaning over his lap. he paws at his tie, but eliot shakes his head. }

Not today. { he has no intention for the attention and instead looses track of time until the familiar sight of his last mixed drink is suddenly right in front of him. it's electric blue, the color of pietro's eyes. he turns to look over and breaks out into a nebulous drawl. }

They desire you. Our honored guest. Bambi and I never fail to throw a stellar party. It's our last year after all. Did I ever tell you my thesis is to figure out how to rule a kingdom and save a whole goddamned world?

{ he leans to take a sip of pietro's drink, his hazel eyes heavy on him as if he answered the question, when really he didn't. }

Are you enjoying yourself, ketzel?

[hastening]

[ something about the way the pretty boy at eliot's side leans into him makes something fiery and stubborn rise up in his chest. sure, there are many pretty boys and girls here, and pietro can certainly appreciate the fact, but he'd been invited by this strange, ethereal man and to suddenly see someone trying to claim a place across his lap or chest?

well.

so pietro leans heavy on the back of the couch, the drink in one hand, and another strong arm tripping its way round his shoulders, palm sliding firm against his chest. there's a rosy pink tinging pietro's cheeks, a tiny buzz from the cocktails, and there's a plush pout pulling at his lips. ]

I never liked school very much.

[ a tilt of his head and his icy blue eyes follow the way eliot drinks from the glass. he takes a sip of it himself following, taking his time as though he might taste eliot's lips on the rim. ]

But it is a good party. Everyone asks many questions, and they have very friendly hands. [ he drums his fingers on eliot's chest, letting the tip of his index finger slide between buttons, to graze the barest hint of skin. all the while he's still leaned heavily on the back of the couch and the pretty thing who'd try to vie for eliot's attention earlier seems to be fixated on the swell of pietro's ass instead, and the curve of his low back. ]

And there is a very friendly bartender. I came to ask who it is. Devět. Nine. Nine drinks. He must like me, whoever he is.

[pendejadas]

{ there's a slow blink on his end when he realizes that the first year boy hadn't left. his attention was so absorbed in pietro even from far away that everyone else became an instant blur. he's perceptive when it's important and perpetually dismissive to the rest without any remorse. }

You should see my GPA. { piss poor compared to his party skills. it's not his fault he just gets it faster than most and focuses on endless flasks instead. he isn't challenged enough. eliot moves the conversation away from potentially losing pietro's interest. he dances his fingers along the forearm on his chest as he catches sight of the flush. it suits pietro. distractingly so.

he's not the only one noticing. with a smirk, he lifts an eyebrow in the direction of the first year (and honestly eliot has forgotten his name), as if it isn't clear that dibs have been called. something of which magicians like to do around brakebills for the fun of it, not to be taken seriously but honored at first. it causes the idle fingers from playing with his tie, causes the longing towards the way pietro's jeans are accenting his lower back to halt as they get up and finally leave.

eliot didn't need to express it, but he won't stop pietro from exploring if he so sought it, if he so wanted to sample more magicians. it won't take the odd feeling away, but he ignores that part. he'll just roadblock as a reminder that he'll always be better. he fully takes pietro's drink from him and proceeds to lick off the salt at the rim where pietro missed. }

Maybe you have a secret admirer? You're a powered being, but you have your limits. Perhaps they should stop. You're not starving for attention, darling.

[hastening]

[ pietro doesn't catch the quiet, magician warfare made over the quirk of an eye and a smirk, but the spot beside eliot opens up and there's victory in the way his fingers flex against the man's chest. the alcohol makes him heat up under the collar, settles him into the delight of a pleasant buzz, one that seems to loosen his shoulders, drop his defenses just so. ]

I have many secret admirers here, pěkná květina. Maybe this one does not like that so much.

[ nine drinks to interrupt even the most innocent of interactions, but it's kept pietro's attention - he'll give eliot that. he outright pouts when eliot takes the drink from him and the next move he makes is nothing but a blur. one that stirs the air in the room as he rounds the couch with a swiftness that's likely envied by most magicians even.

but instead of taking up the vacant spot next to eliot, he proceeds to settle himself between eliot's thighs, sitting prettily on one. he even leans in to lick some of the remaining salt from the glass himself, though he makes no attempt to take it. instead, he keeps eye contact with eliot the entire time.

some magicians nearby watch, drawn to the pretty powered man who has stirred up some of the dust and cobwebs, and who has no problem meeting eliot in the middle of the chess board. ]

But maybe the secret admirer is starving for attention, ano? It is so many drinks, and he might be mad you took this one from me. It is my favorite one yet. [ a huff, and he rests one forearm on eliot's shoulder, so his fingers may still toy idly with a loose curl. ] It is very sweet, like candies. But it reminds me of something else. Someone else. I don't think he'd like that, do you?

text; a few months in

[hastening]

[ a week has gone by with relative silence, unusual for him. but it’s early on a friday morning when eliot’s phone alights with a message: ]

did you know the eiffel tower lights up at night
i did not
it reminded me of brakebills
it looked like magic

[ in other words, he’s been on a treacherous mission and he’s just gotten back. hi. hello. he’s missed you but he’ll never say it. ]

[pendejadas]

{ it is unusual to go silent for a week. he said he’d return soon. then fillory had a magical power outage. splitting his life is getting ridiculous and he knows it. a simple message shouldn’t make him so goddamn giddy, but at last, he nearly knocked over tick when he heard the kim possible text tone from across the throne room. }

how are you???
fu
i miss you

aw, are you seeing me everywhere you go?
i am brakebills’ finest after all.
no matter what alice says.

[hastening]

[ he halfway expects silence, knowing eliot is busy in whatever faraway magical world he escapes to. ]

i see you in my dreams
i miss
when are you

i don't know about that
alice is very beautiful
but margo is brakebills' finest yes?

i am still in france for another day
the mission was very easy and now we get to explore
i think you would like it here

[ nevermind he suspects someone like eliot has been everywhere, that france is likely mundane and boring to him. but pietro is dazzled by the history, by the lights, by the views. enough to make him yearn for something more. ]

[pendejadas]

you're right, but all my friends are attractive, even penny.
although we're barely anything. not even a sad hate fuck would do. gross.
but margo IS the finest and IF she stumbles on this it should be known

{ margo has a tendency to take his phone when bored. mostly he doesn't mind, but with so few moments as of late, he might be selfish with these texts. there goes the impulsive drive he somehow gathers when they're apart. too bad he can't and the magical glitch is still strong. who knows how long he can keep this up. }

what i'd do to see your smile
it's lone
witho

i'm jealous. i like france, so judgy and fashionable.
i'm not the champagne king for nothing.
eat a choux à la crème for me.

[hastening]

[ pietro sends a photo from where he sits, on a bench not far from the famed tourist attraction. ]

how are you
are you coming hom

you have been here before?
i will have to find a place you haven't seen
and we can eat all the sweets there
i think we are going to russia next to fight some robots

you are still in fillory?

[ code for: you're not home, are you? ]

[hastening]

[ a week comes and goes, and at the end of the time pietro sits at the edge of the bed waiting patiently for a portal to emerge in the corner of his room. they'd texted, briefly, until the signal withered out and there had been a promise - a magical two weeks. there's frustration when morning comes and pietro wakes alone in a cold bed, without the crackle of magic on the air.

they're to leave soon - another mission, another lead on catching the hydra operatives they're after. it's left him feeling more restless than normal, to the point that even wanda elbows him at the dining table because his bouncing foot (bouncing far faster than any average human could) is vibrating the floor.

eliot hadn't come.

it should mean nothing - they're not bound to one another, in no way are they attached in any significant way, and yet. pietro feels the yearning for him as deeply as his heart beating, like something pulsing and insistent and nagging. it dims by the time the second week comes quietly on the heels of the first and as he's dressing for their mission, he realizes eliot might not return at all. he spoke so fondly of fillory most times, and hearing wanda speak of her time with margo there, he imagines it to be some magical paradise, though he's heard from eliot himself there are difficulties.

he waits until he can't anymore, until captain america radios and insists he hurry up. so he obeys, whirls away into the quinjet, and disappears himself for the better part of a week.

what he doesn't expect is to be engaged in such a brutal fight - his body taking the brunt of the impact of a car as it slid off a broken bridge. his feet gliding over molten pavement set aflame by robots and men in their fancy jets. it all goes south before it heads north - there are gunshots and explosions, firefights and fistfights. he spends so much time zipping around the city evacuating citizens he doesn't realize how badly he's hurt, how deeply he's bruised, or that his lip has split and bled down one side of his mouth.

it's the knife he doesn't expect in the mess of guns and bombs and fire. he fights a man to distract and gain control of a compound the captain and stark both have called invaluable, necessary. pietro has never much liked fighting, but he's had to do nothing but since he was a young boy, trying to survive and keep his sister safe.

it's wanda he thinks of first when the blade enters his side, when he feels the sharp pain and the way the air rushes out of his lungs. he thinks of eliot second when he swings, when he uses his speed to down the man. he's grateful he has a thick jacket on, knowing that if anyone saw him injured it might compromise them finding ultron, finding the hydra men they need to secure the world's safety.

more men are coming, he can hear their thundering boots and the clanking of metal doors. he rips the earpiece where he's being questioned and throws it to the ground and he runs.

at first, he thinks he's just running back to the jet, back to something familiar, but the panic and shock of pain at every stride drives him farther, instinct taking over and leaving any logical thought behind. he wants to be home, needs somewhere safe. needs to feel for a moment like there are no angry men or bombs or guns or fighting.

he doesn't realize he's wound up at eliot's place until he's inside. he feels the sticky warmth of his shirt, the way it stains his jeans, the dark crimson spreading as he presses a hand to the wound. he's healing, but it isn't fast enough - not with the stress his body has come under. he leans back against the door, the wood cool at his back and slides to sit, out of breath. for the speedster to be out of breath? something certainly ails him. ]

Where are you?

[ it's a pathetic wimper, as if he could somehow summon eliot, even though he knows that won't work. it doesn't look like eliot has been here in a long time. he thinks about digging his phone out, texting him to see if the message might go through instead of dinging "undeliverable". the screen is cracked from the fight, leaving him to throw it aside and tilts his head back against the door with a sigh, his eyes fluttering closed.

he just needs a few seconds, then he'll leave. then he'll find wanda. ]

[pendejadas]

{ margo has returned with a trade off, her eyeball gone and replaced with one of a fae. her dedication never wilts and he is only left to continue to admire it. magic has kept with its occasional glitches. they are so close with what they’re asking, he’s lost sleep over it. they want revenge served cold. they want the heads of the magicians who have been grinding them into fae dust.

when he first heard, he’d raised his eyebrows and declared a light fair. the fae have been lurking around the castle, guests unwanted for the most part. then margo made her moves, traveling to the fae realm when fen got kidnapped. all a misunderstanding, it seems. it made him ponder. is he made for what he first desired? he must have let a flicker of a crack show since margo has pulled him aside and told him to get it together.

eliot waugh is burnt out on the mishaps. he knows his luxury is commitment and he can’t stray from them. it’s been double the time here and the first time he’d missed his window to go find pietro had been the start of his patience waning. he could feel it in his bones, on his face. pietro has a particular hold on him that naturally revived him. to start to feel the effects of their last visit become more of a blur is a layered frustration.

it became apparent when he nearly thought he forgot pietro’s voice one morning.

it’s ridiculous how much his mind has strayed and margo had to call him back. it’s probably why he’s been tricked to come into the dusted armory. margo patted his face as she muttered a simple you need a break, come back when you’re less distracted.

she didn’t mention anything else, but they both knew. it made the fond et tu, brute? in response all that more them as she pushed him and he stumbled through the open doors turned a temporary portal. he ends up in the downstairs part of the physical kid’s cottage. the magic outside fillory is less overt, but there was something nostalgic about always coming back to the cottage even if he’s beginning to move on. eventually he’ll have to move out.

for now, he can return. having a constant is good for him. which reminds him, he does search for his phone but finds the battery is dead. he’s lost more track of time than he intended. there’s a surge of slight panic, his steps heavy as he descends upstairs. }

Goddamn it, Margo! You could have at least left me with a— Shit.

{ once he rounds the corner, it’s unmistakable when he sees pietro at his door. he abruptly halts mid step. the thundering of his heart alerts to the sight of blood. his steps are then leap bound and he’s reaching out to take pietro’s face between his hands, one sliding past his forehead to note the bruises. there’s worry clashing against his self-exasperation as he takes in the blood seeping through a tattered shirt. }

Pietro?! You’re hurt. What are you doing here? How did you…? What happened?

[hastening]

[ finding the strength to get up feels impossible as he still tries to catch his breath, pressing his palm tighter to his side. he can feel the way the wound is slowly trying to heal, but every movement pulls at it painfully, reminds him of the knife that had been there moments before.

there's sound, a voice, and pietro suddenly feels the need to hide the blood, to make himself look less like tenderized meat and more like the pretty-faced mutant eliot expects. (a part of him wants to be angry, too, for eliot leaving and not coming back when he promised. but he's mostly angry at himself for waiting). instead, he lets out a shuddered sigh as the man's hands find his face and his eyes flutter closed a moment in the relief. eliot is warm, he's always warm, and there's something so inviting in it. he could sleep, just for an hour, maybe two.

he huffs a little, turns his eyes upon the worried hazels over him, takes in the lines of eliot's face. he's worried. ]

There was a boy who said he had stolen you away, locked you here all for his own so I beat him up.

[ it's a bad joke, told in a thicker sokovian accent than before. he's only really spoken to wanda the past few weeks when he hasn't been with the captain or stark. he tilts his head back, juts his chin like he's some confident schoolboy winning some pissing contest, and not a broken toy soldier bleeding on the floor. ]

You should have seen him. Isn't that the saying?

[ should have seen the other guy, he realizes, but he tilts his head into eliot's touch, free hand reaching for him briefly then disengaging. no, he'll get blood on him. ]

I did not know you were back. [ a beat, then: ] I tried to call you. Before the fight.

[pendejadas]

{ the blood is prominent in the way that it won't be able to be hidden right away. there's a flicker of a shift in his expression. he's not sure how to feel that pietro is trying to put up a front right now. he's frustrated, glad to see him, and also just fucking worried. other times he would play along, but right now he can't hide the way he contorts to the situation.

his eyes might as well say i can't lose you too. too much loss. it flashes back with the sight of blood. he centers despite the second it takes for him to let out a little laugh, one void of the fullness it would usually carry. it's more of a pitiful chuckle that shows he's relieved pietro can joke when he's badly hurt. it reminds him that they're here. it's real. }

Always defending my honor. You really shouldn't. { a beat. } I've missed your nonsense.

{ it's meant to be a soft tease, one that would be more obvious at another time, but for now it comes out with a sigh. his hands tremble but he steadies them before he brushes away the dirt upon pietro's cheek. he then reaches down to gently guide pietro to lean against him, aiming to get him to the bed. }

Don't worry about the sheets. You need care. No arguing with me. You do as I say. I need to get a first aid kit. I would use magic, but I don't trust it right now with the Wellspring malfunctioning. We've... Doesn't matter. { his arm secures around pietro's waist, encouraging a hold around his shoulders as he leads them to the edge of the bed. he makes sure that he is settled. even with pietro pressing upon the wound, he can see the blood even more bright up close. he looks beat up, warn down. he's never seen pietro like this. although he wants to see all his sides, hurt is one he wanted to avoid. he makes sure to run a soothing touch along pietro's hair once more, assuringly more than anything considering he has to step away for a minute. }

I'm getting the kit. It's downstairs. It won't take long. Stay put. Okay?

{ the urge to say it out loud wins over, to assure again, considering he’s made promises that were broken. it pains more than he'll admit. normally he'll be fine disappointing others, has done it far too often. now that it has affected pietro now and it feels shitty. eliot briskly runs out the door knowing wounds need to be attended to right away, fully intending on making it quick. }

[hastening]

[ a part of him wants to sink into eliot's chest and breathe him in, knowing that is all he needs to focus and heal and settle. how he got his heart so tangled around this fleeting magician, he doesn't know, but he's missed him in a way that has sparked some anger deep in his belly.

it dissipates briefly when he's helped up, and though he can walk well enough on his own, he's grateful for the care, the touch, the nearness. wanda tries, but with vision her newest intrigue he spends more time alone now than ever before. so he allows eliot to guide him to the bed where he sits, keeping a hand to the wound that pulls uncomfortably with every move. ]

It will heal on its own. [ said on a sigh, a near whine, but even he can tell it's not healing fast enough considering how exhausted he is. the wound tingles, the skin slowly stretching and healing at the edges. the benefits of being super-powered, though he wonders now if it's a true benefit at all.

so he sits, looking up at eliot and finding his eyes close at the gentle touch to his hair. he tilts his head back away from it, meeting his gaze. ]

I could get it faster than you.

[ not that he will, not that he will push through that hard, but he had run all the way here. all the way here expecting eliot to remain a phantom of his memories. it's been three weeks, nearly a month since that stupid rabbit visited them, since he was last tangled up in his bed with the dark haired man he'd sworn he loved.

thankfully eliot doesn't speak sokovian. pietro almost feels stupid for it. ]

But I will wait, yes? Do not worry so much. It is a lot of blood but it is not so bad.

[ but eliot is gone before he can finish, and pietro's shoulders sag. he shrugs off his jacket, pulls of his ripped and bloodied shirt. the wound isn't very deep but it bleeds eagerly between the press of his fingers. his chest, riddled with bruises and scrapes from several days of fighting, one arm with a scar that is nearly gone. and here he is, bleeding on eliot waugh's bed.

he uses his dirtied shirt and bomber jacket to sop up the blood, as if trying to leave as little of a mark of himself here as he can. ]