quipsandthwips | [PSL] The Vinsmokes vs. Spider-Man

[PSL] The Vinsmokes vs. Spider-Man

[Peter Parker is doing fine.

Let him re-phase that: he's adapted and adjusted accordingly. Look, it hasn't been easy. Deciding to remain friends with MJ and still finding himself without an actual job or home to speak of doesn't beat losing both his mentor and his last surviving family member. There are empty spaces in his life that he tries not to linger on too long — but god, he misses May's smile, her voice, her kindnesses. It had taken so long to accept Ben's death... and now it's, just... it's hard. It's easier to just be Spider-Man for a while.

Crime doesn't sleep, after all. So yeah, homeless. That's no biggie. He's been there before. He mainly just works at FEAST with the homeless (he relates, and the new head honcho Miriam knew Peter was on the streets somehow, so he makes his keep there by volunteering. He, um. He gets to sleep in May's old office. It's... nice. There are still pictures and stuff hanging up that nobody had dared move.

So he's only sort of homeless now.

Anyway. Not important. What is important is keeping tabs on the villain activity around here. With most of the villains locked up aboard the Raft (not gonna even think about Dr. Octavius right now, because it still hurts too much), it's mainly these little obnoxious crime families and gangs; Kingpin had been the leader of all the gang activity before his arrest. And now it's this crime family. The Vinsmokes. Hard to get them arrested, and they've got so many secret strings being pulled all over. It makes for a real pain in the ass to deal with. He hasn't gotten a chance to catch the head honcho with anything criminal yet, but boy oh boy has he busted soooo many drug deals, weapons manufacturing, stolen goods deals — and so on.

Most of the grunts are easy-peasy. The literal family are all a bunch of super-powered heathens like him. Cool. He's gotten, like, three of them locked up on the Raft... only to have them somehow bought out, or released for shoddy police work, or something or another. Now there's just one locked up, but it's only a matter of time before Daddy Vinsmoke does his magic.

Ugh. He hates it.

2:30 a.m., and he's down by the docks and sticking against a nearby wall as fake money exchanges hands.]

Hey, do those work on any vending machine?

I'm dying for a bag of Doritos right about now.

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[He snorts, nudging at him a little.]

You can't even say one nice thing about me? Not even one?! C'moooon!

[HE'S COOL. HE'S HIP!]

[Peter you are none of those things. And, God is Sanji tempted to either be a Grade A dick about this, either by denying Peter a compliment or just offering a backhanded version instead.

It just. doesn't get the mental chuckle out of him that he was hoping, and why after a pause:]

Fine.

[Face immediately set like he doesn't care about the words about to come out of his mouth]

Probably gonna get you killed one day -- hell, I bet it causes you way more problems than you'll admit -- but... better you're a nice guy who tries to help everyone out instead of the opposite.

That shit shows. Everyone really loves you... Sure your aunt would be proud.

[There. And look at that, no hives]

-- So from now on, I don't wanna hear shit from you about how I can't say a nice thing. [HUFFING]

[His expression smooths out into something a bit more serious, a little less drunk, as he listens with rapt attention. It's not like he hasn't had compliments before, from people at FEAST or from acquaintances. He's not that wretched, that he can't catch a break like that, but it's — different when Sanji does it, because he knows it doesn't come easy and probably isn't a big thing for the Vinsmokes. Really, he'd been joking around and not expecting anything... so this is something, and it makes his stomach feel kinda fluttery.

Probably the liquor talking. Just like the liquor is probably making him tear up at the mention of Aunt May (god I miss her, I miss her so much and I feel alone now, because I'm all that's left of this family-); he's laughing wetly like he's trying to mask the swell of both warm and sad emotion that goes to war inside him—

—So from now on, I don't wanna hear shit from you about how I can't say a nice thing.

Or so Sanji would fully say, but as he goes to finish 'nice thing', Peter throws an arm over Sanji's shoulder and plants a firm kiss on the side of the man's cheek while he's busy being properly mystified and maybe mortified; he doesn't know why, he just feels that command in his jelly-like arms, the nervous system he's got leading from his full heart instead of his foggy brain working overtime.]

Everyone there loves you, too, yunno. You're pretty — pretty —

Awesome.

[Good compliment, bud, you really thought that nice comment through.]

[mm

bad

That was. a lot of bad that just happened in the span of two seconds. Sanji reacts like he always does when confronted with a positive emotion -- like a cat that's been drenched in water -- and tries to backpedal quick, except whoops, Peter's arm sure is still wrapped around his shoulder. Guess he's going nowhere and has to deal with that sappy follow-up about his existence actually having value to other people!

If there's a miracle, it's that he didn't set them both on fire to spare them the embarrassment that's gonna follow]

-- Goddamn, you're drunk.

[By which he means: bullshit. All of that is a load of bullshit brought on by alcohol. But have heart, because Sanji is going to be a Good Person for once in his shitty life and not roast someone else for their questionable life choices... even if his ears and cheeks are flaming red, and the air around them has grown a tad warmer than before.

Fuck.]

You're going straight to the shitty couch. No bathroom breaks. [Trying to wiggle awaaaay, please let him go, what the fuck, you did not just sloppy kiss him in a fit of emotion. He knew he shouldn't have brought up his aunt]

I'm not that drunk. M'just shabby at it.

[He's really not a drinker. At all. But hey, he's doing great right now! But he does let Sanji wiggle out of his grip, as he stumbles to walk in front of Sanji, backwards. Despite how absolutely terrible this idea is, he seems to be going it pretty well.]

But I mean it, man! You're a good guy! You gotta — [hiccup] — give yourself more credit.

... The couch isn't that shitty. Or is that you flavoring your sentences again?

-- Shabby at what?!

[The compliment? The liquor? The kiss? Y'know what, doesn't matter, Sanji is giving Peter a failing grade either way, and glares in disapproval when Peter starts walking backwards. Boi, he swears to God if you trip...]

And would you stop it with the shitty compliments? I told you before, I'm not here to make shitty friends with you or anyone else. This is just shitty business.

[Maybe, just maybe, if he keeps throwing words at Peter, the guy will shut up.

... He might have also added all of those "shittys" for revenge. Bc fuck you, Parker, he does what he wants with the English language.]

Drinking! What else would I be shabby at?

[He's honestly not even processing that he kissed him, because it was clearly just a totally awesome broment that is not plaguing Sanji's mind at all. He puts his hands behind his head and continues his dumb backwards walking, too easygoing in his mildly wobbly steps. Despite how absolutely likely it is he should be falling over.]

Hold on a sec — since when is going out with a buddy for pizza 'business'!?

Not everything's gotta be business.

[... Right, well. Not that Sanji expected that kiss to mean anything, but that Peter's so drunk he might have already forgotten about it thins Sanji's lips into a line.

This is exactly what he wanted and it's still fuckin annoying.]

Maybe it's not business for you, but I've got --

["obligations"

... Turning his head away as his thoughts tick on. No matter what he says, Peter is probably too inebriated to appreciating anything he says -- no, it's worse than that, isn't it? A nice guy like this couldn't understand regardless.]

Tch. Forget it. I appreciate the thought, alright? [It was kinda fun, he'll admit that much. Now please drop it.]

... Hey.

[He gives Sanji's arm a punch, sloppy but almost feather-light.]

When you're with me, nothing's gotta be business.

You got it, punk?

Do I look like someone who is all about business? [He points both index fingers at his face, to better accent his seriousness — and then bumps right into a light pole with his butt.] Oof—! Where'd that even come from? Jeez.

[Note to self, spidey sense won't save you from street lamps that aren't any danger to sober people.]

... If that were real karma, you would've fell on your ass.

[Instead Peter got a light slap on the butt from a pole. Disappointing. Reaching over, Sanji captures the guy by the scruff of his jacket and manually turns him so that he's facing the proper direction.

Does he let go after that? Of course the fuck not. Peter will just wiggle himself into a new stupid position that's gonna hold them up in the middle of the city.]

We'll be here all night if you keep walking into shit -- so march.

[it's not exactly arm-linking, but hey. Even though Sanji refuses to comment further on what Peter brought up, he sounds a little less gloomy. Certainly not business-like at all.]

[He just laughs at that, light and airy.]

Alright, alright. I'll aim for falling on my ass next time.

[He continues his walk-like-a-newborn-deer method of being pushed along, and maybe it's better that Sanji can't see the expression that crosses his face — one that's far more somber, maybe a little less eager and peppy than he usually is.]

You wanna know what? It's not just that you deserve good pizza. I mean, that's it, too.

... It's just — I don't really have a lotta friends.

[That's probably weird to hear, from Mr. Social Sunshine Machine.

But — there's no dishonesty in his slightly slurred words.

If anything... it's probably something he wouldn't have admitted, without a lot of drinks in him.]

Edited 2019-03-01 03:44 (UTC)

[If Sanji can't see Peter's expression, all the more reason Sanji's own takes a turn for honesty, a flash of brief surprise that softens into... something. Yeah, that is a little weird to hear. Sanji's not too keen on idealism, but guys like Peter? Should be swimming in friends.]

Eh, so with me, you're scrapping the bottom of the barrel, eh? Damn I feel bad for you.

[-- It's a joke. Really. His tone is purposefully light to reflect as much. And as much as the obvious follow-up question floats around his thoughts, Sanji refuses to ask the whys of such a claim.

Not his business, yeah?]

... Well. [A shrug that travels from his shoulder through his hand, further wrinkling the fabric of Peter's jacket] Sure you're still doing better than me. Never had friends growing up. Don't have any now, either.

[He tries to sound neutral about the entire thing -- and he is. You don't feel lonely when that's the emotion you grew up with. That last sentence trips awkwardly on his tongue, however, until he grimaces and after a long beat, forces out an edit]

-- Well, I got one now, or -- some shit.

[He snorts, as he lets Sanji continue to lead him. Too trustingly, maybe.

Sanji's probably not quite so used to someone offering their defenseless back to them, but, well — Peter figures he deserves that kind of faith, even if Sanji would think otherwise. He's proven already he's not nearly what Peter had thought of him at first. He's fixable. Salvageable. A good person under the crime family dynamics.]

Don't know why you'd feel bad about it; I feel awesome.

[It does leave a feeling of loss, of anxiety — Harry, his best friend, he'd been gone for... god, he's not even sure how long now. He's looked and looked, as Spider-Man, as Peter Parker... He's just gone. His father, too. Just... vanished from the city. God, he hopes he's okay.]

Anyway, I'm totally the best friend anyone could ever have, so you obviously lucked out.

[Oh no. Now they're using the word 'friend'.

You're hosed, man.]

Excuse me if I'm not jumping for fuckin joy over here.

[Sanji hand drops once he's certain (or just hoping) that Peter won't start doing somersaults the moment he's free. He then uses the opportunity to shove his hands back into his pockets. It's not to keep them warm. He's just... trying not to think too deeply about this line of conversation.

He hadn't been completely honest; once, he had someone he dared to call his friend. It hadn't ended well.

... Seems cruel, rolling the dice with someone's life on the line again. And Sanji can't pretend it's anything but cowardice that keeps him from bringing it up.

But-- It'll be alright, won't it? Cliche as that fuckin line is, he's learned his lessons. He knows how to be careful now. It's not so bad, having a person that doesn't actively hate him]

Don't expect any special treatment, though. Shithead.

[He looks back, rosy-cheeked and annoyingly fond, like Sanji practically said the nicest thing ever.]

Heh. Sorry. You got it, chef.

[Wait, the moment's over. His nose scrunches, as he nearly trips over his own feet. Again.]

On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad's my hangover gonna be?

7.

[Without missing a beat. Also, with zero sympathy in his voice.

Suffer, Peter.

Sanji's a fair guy, though -- he's taken it as his job to lead Peter back to the shelter in one piece. So that's what he'll do, albeit with a lot of cursing whenever Peter trips, and lacking some basic bedside manner upon roughly throwing the guy into the couch to sleep off the alcohol. No talking, shithead. Only sleeping.

Honestly, though, it's a fuckin relief once Peter is safe in his "bed", curled up on the cushions, a blanket tossed over his frame and out like a light. And leaning himself against a nearby wall, Sanji will... stay hovered in the room for a couple more minutes, watching the other with a quiet expression, then leave Peter to his sleep.

He doesn't come into work the next day.

He doesn't come the day after that, either.

And by the third, Peter is going to be fielding a lot of questions from concerned regulars who wonder why their favorite chef isn't manning the kitchens. Did he quit? Sick? Just skipped work, huh? Doesn't seem like Sandy, if you ask them. The guy's gruff and pretends to be nasty, but anyone with eyes can see he loves working with food.

It's only when the third day comes to a close that Peter, if he's in the shelter, is gonna hear some odd thumping coming from the second floor -- around where May's office is. Might wanna check what the heck that is.]

[It's starting to become a habit for Sanji, to worry the hell out of Peter. But that's just sort of how it usually goes, right? It's what he signed on for, when he decided to keep the guy close by, make sure he knew he had a place to retreat to. He's unhappy to find him missing. He's also unhappy to find that as Spider-Man, he doesn't run into any evidence of him being around.

Dammit.

... Peter at least feels the prickle of danger and bad omen, when he hears someone in May's office.

Because when that noise happens and it's him, it's usually after he'd gotten himself hurt as Spider-Man. Never a good sign. Part of him hopes it's Sanji, but... Something's not right, he can feel it like his spider sense. After a moment (and to make sure nobody else was privy to it), he starts up the stairs and toward the small office; the blinds are all drawn as usual, so he's not really sure what he's getting into when he opens the door.]

[The room's going to be pretty warm when Peter enters it.

That might spoil the surprise and maybe put the guy's mind at ease -- there's only one reason for this kind of heat besides an actual fire, and said reason is curled up on the floor at the hidden end of the couch, his head bowed into his knees.

... Not really moving, not even when Peter sneaks int the room.]

[Well, this could be the day I die.

He carefully closes and locks the door behind him.

Sanji's not a bad person, that much Peter's gathered, but he's also very much noticed that when Sanji's worked up — well, sometimes he can't control the literal fiery burst of emotion that comes out of him. He's had a few blistered fingers to prove as much.

Buuut he has spider sense, not common sense, so he walks over without fear.]

Hey — Sandy? What happened?

[His voice is low and kind, sweat forming on his brow from the heat as he reaches out to put a hand on the man's unmoving shoulder.]

[Wow Pete, it's like you don't trust the dangerous mafia man seated on your floor to avoid bursting into flames.

In reality, Sanji's reaction is minimal, sluggish ... rather underwhelming. As if sensing the hand reaching out for him, he'll shift to shy away from it, but not so much that Peter can't touch him anyway. The heat from his body spikes before forcibly snuffing itself into a cooler temperature -- unless he maintains it, though, the room isn't going to feel hospitable.

Whatever is wrong, it's not unlike the last time this happened. He's not looking to take the building down with him. He's not looking to take a bystander down with him, either.

Looking up from his folded arms, however... the foggy glaze in Sanji's visible eye doesn't suggest the man is very lucid. He barely looks like he recognizes Peter at all.]

[-- Oh right.

Peter's got about a second before Sanji's hand darts out to grab him by the throat, by the way]

[The concern is hardly going anywhere. He looks drugged.

This is bad, badbadbad. A sliver of low simmering anger prickles up his spine. What happened?

It's something to really think about, that Sanji doesn't set off his spider sense.

When the heck did that happen, huh? Mysterious. But he sure could have used the heads up, before a hand darts out and grabs him by the throat — which hurts, actually, and he has to do everything in his power not to reflexively start a fight here and now. He's Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. He's just some normal 'shitty punk' or whatever Sanji'd call him, a civilian with no fighting credentials, and definitely not someone parallel to Sanji's insane strength and endurance.

So he just grips Sanji's sleeve and hopes the guy doesn't get too close to choking him out.

... Gonna probably leave a mark, though.

His voice is gritty and strained, as he speaks in a quiet voice:]

San — Alessandro. Hey, it's me.

[Gis other hand is softly pressed over the one around his throat.

He's calm, for someone getting a little strangled at the moment.]

You're — hurting me, man.

[The hand doesn't loosen.

-- It doesn't tighten, either, so thank God for small favors today. Peter's allowed just enough room to breathe while Sanji stares at him, still peering tiredly over his arm, a stare lacking in calculation or self-awareness. He might as well be in a different planet for all he seems to notice that he's choking his friend.

But so long as Peter doesn't make any sudden moves, the hand will loosen in regular increments, until the fingers no longer dig into Peter's neck with an iron grip. Pretty lucky so far, Mr. Nice Guy. What are you going to do next?]

[... Jesus. Well, he'll just ignore whatever pain he's feeling in his neck, breathing sharply in and recollecting his bearings. He carefully looks the man over for any injuries without getting handsy, frowning deeply at the lack of reaction. Shit. This is bad, really bad.]

... Sandy, hey. You know I'm not gonna hurt you, right?

Do you know where you are?

[He doesn't loosen his hand from the one lingering at his neck.

More to comfort than anything. He hardly cares for his own well-being, you know?

Not really his thing.]

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